Page 51 of Silver & Smoke
Torj looked up, noting the pink flush across Wren’s cheeks, and the way she bit her lower lip. Her chest was heaving, as was his as they looked down between them, his release leaking from between her thighs.
‘Fuck...’ he groaned at the sight. In that moment, there was no denying who she belonged to, no pretending. His claim was right there for them to see, and it made him want to take her again and again.
Wren Embervale was his.
CHAPTER 26
Wren
‘Of an alchemist’s prized tools, the finest magnifying lens is crafted not from glass, but from study that dissolves the barrier between what we perceive and what truly is’
– Drevenor Academy Handbook
IT WAS NIGHTFALLby the time they finished talking and Torj slipped from the compartment to find the captain, but Wren was more alert, more alive than she’d been in a long time, when she reached for her quill.
Now she knew exactly what to write.
She stayed in the chain locker for as long as she could bear it before she staged a visit to Darian in front of Lucian and then returned to her cabin to continue scribbling away. She only paused to push the parchment into Kipp’s hands and take whatever food he brought her. All concept of time was lost to her as she poured herself into the pages before her, her hand cramping from the endless hours of use. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the sun on her face. Cracking her knuckles and rubbing her bleary eyes, she retrieved a new leaf of parchment with a sigh—
‘We’re dropping anchor,’ Kipp’s voice sounded from the door. ‘Time to go. Tal’s flown back to Naarva to speak with the shadow-touched.’
Surprised, Wren rolled her aching shoulders and dropped her head into her hands, instantly regretting that she hadn’t slept ahead of the hard ride to Thezmarr. ‘Surely it’ll be hours before we can actually disembark—’
‘No, we’re first off. I called in a favour.’
Wren gave a tired laugh. ‘Of course you did. No doubt you want to use the newfound time to stop by the Fox?’
‘Not this time,’ Kipp replied, his expression unreadable.
A chill ran down her spine. ‘What is it? It’s not like you to—’
‘I can’t be sure yet,’ Kipp told her quietly. ‘But the sooner we leave, the better.’
Seeing Kipp serious was unnerving to say the least, and so Wren got to her feet, quickly packing away her things in her oilskin satchel and securing her belt of potions around her waist.
Up on deck, several members of the crew were releasing the mechanisms and controlling the drop of the anchor into the dark waters below, feeding the rope through the hawsehole. A loud scraping noise filled the air as the thick hemp scraped against the wooden hull, followed by a tremendous splash as the iron hit the water.
Kipp fidgeted beside Wren. She had travelled by ship with him enough times by now to know that he was not usually a nervous voyager, and yet he peered beyond the docks with narrowed eyes, shifting from foot to foot.
‘What is it?’ Thea asked as she joined them, noting the same anxious movements in their friend.
‘Settler’s Port is quiet,’ Kipp replied, not taking his eyes off the docks below.
Wren followed his gaze. The markets, usually buzzing with activity, were empty of patrons and vendors alike. There were no stalls, no traders hawking their wares...
She risked a glance across the deck to where Torj stood rigid beside Wilder, surveying the quiet port below, his brow furrowed, a muscle twitching beneath the stubble of his jaw.
‘Must be something going on in the capital,’ Lord Lucian offered as the crew began securing the remaining rope to the bollards. ‘Regent Liora is known to love her festivals.’
Wren shot Thea a look of disbelief, only to find her sister’s expression mirroring her own.
It wasn’t long before they disembarked, and were met with an unnatural silence looming like a heavy cloud. No gulls squawking, no insects buzzing around the market scraps, and certainly not the hum of a prosperous city beyond...
With their horses being led out from the hold, Darian sent scouts ahead while the Warswords and a skeleton company followed in their wake. Wren refused to be left behind, as did Dessa, Zavier and Kipp, who all trailed after the warriors. Unease settled over Wren as they moved into the outskirts of the capital, her nape prickling, her palms growing clammy. This was an outlying residential area, she realized, taking in the withered plants in the windowsills, the lines of laundry hanging above.
Ahead of her, Torj took his war hammer in his hands, and beside him Thea and Wilder unsheathed their swords. The telltale creak of Cal’s bow sounded from nearby as well.
Torj’s voice came to her.Stay close, Embers.
