Page 72 of Silver & Smoke
Wren stepped back from her sister and passed a hand over her face, her chest constricting with every moment she wasn’t with her soul-bonded as he suffered. ‘I should have killed Lucian the moment he told me about the poison, not gone along with this horseshit.’
‘No arguments from me there,’ Thea replied. ‘But you didn’t, and this is where we are now. You need to show your face in front of the bannermen, show your unity with the Devereuxs. Then, when everyone is drunk and passed out, we’ll cover for you while you visit Torj.’
Wren shook her head, fighting back tears of despair. ‘I hate this,’ she murmured.
‘I know,’ Thea said gently, tugging on her hand. ‘Come sit by the fire with me and Wilder. We’re going to sharpen our swords.’
‘Is that some sort of warrior couple innuendo?’ Wren asked weakly.
Thea snorted. ‘No. We take the care of our blades rather seriously.’
With that, Wren allowed her sister to lead her from the tent and guide her to one of the campfires, where Wilder was waiting. As she sat, Wren unsheathed the dagger at her thigh and pulled it into her lap.
Thea let out a low, appreciative whistle. ‘Naarvian steel...’
‘Torj had it altered for me,’ Wren said quietly.
Wilder glanced up at that. ‘He not only gave you a Naarvian steel blade, but had it altered from the Furies’ chosen form?’
‘Yes.’ Wren balanced the weapon on her fingertip, showing how the weight suited her perfectly. ‘Will you teach me how to care for it?’
‘Here.’ Thea offered her whetstone. ‘You want a coarser stone to begin with, for repairs and major sharpening.’
Wren took the rough object and waited.
‘You can use water or oil to wet the stone before you start. I prefer water. Then you hold the blade at a consistent angle, like this.’ Thea pointed to where Wilder was holding his sword against his own whetstone. ‘Then you draw the blade across the rough surface in smooth strokes, from base to tip—’
Wilder snorted. ‘Something you’re rather familiar with, Princess...’
Wren’s mouth twitched. ‘I remember when you were a serious warrior, Wilder. Good to see how thoroughly Thea’s corrupted you.’
‘I never stood a chance,’ he replied. ‘My mind was always filthy when it came to her.’
‘I’m well aware,’ Wren said dryly before turning back to her sister. ‘You were saying?’
‘You need to maintain even pressure and repeat the motion on both sides until it’s sharp. Then, you can use a finer stone for a razor edge.’
Wren dragged her dagger over the whetstone. ‘Like this?’
‘Make the angle a touch sharper,’ Thea told her. ‘Yes, like that.’
Wren repeated the motion, and when she looked up for Thea’s approval, she saw that her sister had started on another blade with a rag this time. Without a word, Wilder handed Thea the oil she needed before she could ask. Her sister’s fingers brushed his as she took it, a touch that lingered just a heartbeat too long to be casual, even after all these years. Every small gesture between them made Wren ache for Torj – the way Wilder shifted to block the wind when Thea shivered, how Thea absently brushed the fire’s ash from his shirt while reaching for another whetstone.
The cool night air was filled with the soft scrape of steel on stone and the crackle of the fire. Wren had hoped the repetitive task would quieten her mind, but it only made the thoughts churn faster. What if she and Torj never got the years her sister and Wilder had? What if they had squandered their chance? The thought of poison coursing through the Bear Slayer’s veins made Wren nauseous.
Wilder’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘I’ve been where you are.’
Wren looked up to see the Hand of Death watching her with a pained expression.
‘Remember when we thought that fate stone belonged to Thea?’ he asked. ‘We all thought that she would only live until she turned twenty-seven.’
‘I’m not likely to forget it,’ Wren said. ‘It belonged to Anya instead...’
Wilder dipped his head. ‘It did. But we didn’t know that until the end. For the entire first chapter of our time together, I thought I would lose her...’
‘But Torj... Torjisdying,’ Wren whispered, finally saying the words she’d been too afraid to say aloud before this moment. ‘The poison is moving faster than we anticipated, and I am no closer to saving him. Even if Lucian gives me what I need, there may not be enough time. How do I know that and not...’
‘Break?’ Thea finished. ‘You don’t. You break a little every day. But you keep going, because that’s what warriors do – we fight anyway.’
