Vows & Ruins (The Legends of Thezmarr, #2)

by Helen Scheuerer

A lost heir of Delmira. A storm wielder.

‘You were given an order, Alchemist,’ sounded a deep, commanding voice. Thea would have known that voice anywhere. It had pulled her back from the brink of death, had whispered her name against her lips, had broken her heart in more ways than one… Silver eyes met hers and Thea’s breath caught. The Hand of Death towered above her, his powerfully built frame clad in black armour that dripped red. Against all reason, despite all her fury, that rich timbre skittered along her bones as Wilder Hawthorne leant in close and murmured, ‘Or should I call you “Princess” now?’

‘Death comes for us all, Princess. One way or another.

‘Then stop looking at me like that,’ she snapped. ‘Like what?’ ‘Like you’ve seen me naked.’

‘But that’s exactly what you did, you bastard. You left. You fucking left me.’

‘You come from a long line of powerful storm wielders. Your parents, King Soren and Queen Brigh of the Embervale family —’

‘— possessed some of the most potent magic the midrealms had ever seen. It was said that their magic could be felt across the realms, causing terror tempests in faraway lands.’

Let them see, Wilder thought irrationally. Let them see that she belongs with me.

The rest of the arena fell away and it was just the two of them, moving as one, sharing the same breath, blades carving through the air.

How had he never felt power like this before? Magic rippled from each of the stars as one by one, his apprentice, a lost princess of Delmira, the woman he loved, plucked them from the wall, freeing him.

‘Haven’t you seen that poor man? He’s like a caged animal when dear old Thea’s around, like he’s trying to break free.’

‘You have no idea how much I want you. How I burn for you. You lit an inferno within me and it won’t stop. I can’t stop —’

‘I have dreamt of this every night, Thea…’ he breathed, his throat bobbing. ‘Every. Fucking. Night. There is no counting the ways I want you.’

‘I knew you’d be my ruin, too,’ Thea whispered.

Althea Zoltaire had destroyed him. And it was the greatest privilege of his life. His heart threatened to burst from his chest as it pounded, trying to catch up with everything he felt.

He was fucked. Well and truly fucked. Because the way he burned for her… No vows, no notion of duty – nothing – could stop it.

‘Audra says my family were tyrants…’ ‘They’re not your family. Just people you’re related to.’ ‘Oh?’ ‘Wren, Cal and Kipp? They’re your true family. The one you chose.’

a deadly whisper in the night.

Not a single one was a match for her, and she relished that new kind of power at her fingertips: the power of violence, not magic.

But she lost herself to the call of death, swinging her blade as an extension of herself. Long gone were the leering expressions and arrogant smirks. In their place was pure, unadulterated terror. They feared her.

‘There’s no escaping this,’ she said, reaching for his hands. ‘No matter what we say. And I’m done denying it. I want you, Wilder.’

‘May you walk amid the gardens of the afterlife a whole half hour, before Enovius reads your ledger of deeds.’

Gods, he had been right in every sense of the word. Althea Zoltaire would be the end of him.

‘Since when does a librarian command a Warsword?’ Wren snapped. ‘Since when does an alchemist complain so much?’ Torj bit back.

But Torj simply raised a brow. ‘If there’s one thing that transcends time and distance and all else, it’s love.’ Then he strode back to the others, leaving his words to sink deep into Wilder, and settle around his scarred heart.

For as long as she’d have him, Althea Zoltaire was his. And he no longer cared who knew it.

Tell her how you feel, the voice in his head demanded as he stared into those stormy eyes. Say the words. But the words lodged in his throat, refusing to form on his tongue. If he told her, he’d lose her, just like everyone else.

‘Furies save me,’ he whispered, blinking up at her in awe. ‘You’ll be the end of me.’ Thea smiled. ‘I can think of worse ways to go.’ ‘I’d die a happy man…’ Wilder reached for her. ‘But I’m not finished with you yet.’

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. ‘I never thought I would have this.’ He gestured between them. Thea waited, watching as his brow furrowed and he struggled to find the words. His throat bobbed. ‘And now I have it… I’m terrified.’ ‘Of what?’ ‘Of losing it. Of losing you.’

‘You won’t allow it?’ Her first words to him were as sharp as a blade. ‘You won’t allow it?’ That tempest in her eyes was back, surging right for him. But Wilder was done. He hadn’t allowed the darkness to take her back in the Bloodwoods and he sure as fuck wouldn’t let her own darkness consume her now. ‘No,’ he ground out. ‘I won’t allow it.’ She took a step towards him, closing what little space remained between them, staring up at him with fire in her gaze. ‘Why?’ she snarled. Wilder couldn’t stand the inferno within for a second longer – couldn’t take the strain on his heart, on his soul, for a moment more. ‘Because I fucking love you,’ he said.

‘Because I love just as I fight. Hard, with everything I have. And I was afraid to lose it all. To lose you.’

‘Now?’ he breathed, wrapping his hand around hers, pressing it to his chest so she could feel his heart hammering beneath. ‘I’m terrified.’ Thea’s voice was raw when she asked: ‘Is that what it means to love me? To be terrified?’ ‘I think that is what it means to love at all,’ he said, brushing his lips over hers, the whisper of a kiss. ‘But it’s more than that, Thea. To love you… is to be free.’

His apprentice, his Guardian, his love, didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back as she slayed enemy after enemy, moving like a dancer of death through the chaos, becoming chaos herself as she whirled her sword and dagger.

‘I thought you would recognise your own blood, sister,’ Anya said.

Anya, the Daughter of Darkness, the enemy to end them all… was the true heir of Delmira.

‘Where walks death, so does Althea Zoltaire,’ someone called. Murmurs broke out across the camp. And it was only as Thea’s gaze met Wilder’s that he realised what they were calling her… The Shadow of Death.

‘I am the storm,’

With lightning sharp in her veins and her heart full of fire, Thea set out across the midrealms, the wind tearing at her braid as she rode east, the taste of vengeance on her lips. And so the hunt began.