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The Shadow of Death was a name that had been thrust upon her as she walked in the footsteps of her former mentor, the Hand of Death. There had been an all-too-brief pocket of time where she’d accepted it with pride, but now? Now she loathed it, loathed that despite all she had achieved on her own, she would always be connected to him.
Wilder Hawthorne reached for the lone piece of hair that had escaped her braid and tucked it behind her ear. ‘Thea…’ he murmured, his voice broken and hoarse.
He caught a glimpse of the text on one card, which was barely legible: strong of mind, strong of body, strong of heart. The words sent a shiver down his spine. There was something strangely familiar about them, something that made the hair at his nape stand on end.
‘But when it’s used on someone you love?’ he said. ‘There is nothing more powerful.’
‘I don’t want you,’ she told him, knees buckling. ‘I don’t believe you.’ He closed the small gap between them, still clutching her hand. ‘My shirt smells like you,’ he murmured, the sound a low rumble in the shell of her ear. ‘I still have your marks on my back from our last night together. You claimed me long ago, Thea. You don’t get to say I’m not yours now.’
‘Why would I want to watch the world fester, and the people I care about perish? Almost all of those who were gifted immortal life moved on beyond the Veil long ago, into realms that understood such things. For me… living alone forever in any wretched place was the last thing I wanted.’
‘I knew from the moment I first kissed you that I’d never think of another woman again. That you were it for me. Despite everything, that hasn’t changed. Nor will it.’
‘You think this is a game to me?’ He yanked her back against him, so she could feel every inch of his cock, even with the layers between them. ‘I haven’t stopped burning for you,’ he growled. ‘And I never will.’
‘If you need something to believe,’ he said, his blood heating as he closed the gap between them and hauled her body to his, ‘then believe this.’ He kissed her. It was the kiss he’d been dying to give her, the kiss that fractured every doubt between them and reforged the cracks with something golden. She tasted just as he remembered, like hope and salvation, like home and his.
When someone told her not to go somewhere, that was usually exactly where she needed to go. She had reasoned and reasoned, churned things over in her mind for far too long. Now was the time to go with her gut, and it demanded that she see Wilder Hawthorne.
‘Come find me at Thezmarr, little brother,’ he said. ‘We’ll be Warswords together.’
Kipp gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘Don’t you get it by now?’ Thea looked at him blankly. ‘Get what?’ Cal shook his head as though she’d just asked what colour the sky was. ‘We’re not following the guild, Thea. We haven’t been for some time.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘It’s you we’re following,’ Kipp said. ‘Though in this moment I have no idea why. You’re as thick as Cal’s skull.’
‘What he’s saying is that we’re with you. It’s you we’re loyal to, not some antiquated horseshit laws of Thezmarr.’ Thea’s eyes burned.
‘He loves you. That was never in any doubt. Not to us. I’ll wager that everything he does is for you.’
‘Let me tell you something, Althea Zoltaire. A fine wine is just like this event… It’s all about the finish.’
‘Should have shot him in the dick instead,’ Kipp offered. ‘I would have paid to see that.’ Cal laughed. ‘Too small a target, even for me.’
‘I told myself that it was enough,’ he murmured into her hair, his voice hoarse. ‘That I should be grateful for the time we had. It was more love than most people get in a lifetime. But the truth is, Thea… A thousand lifetimes with you wouldn’t be enough.’
‘Sometimes being a Warsword is not only about fighting, but learning when to live to fight another day.’
‘You wound me.’ ‘I wish someone would.’ Dratos puffed away on his pipe. ‘That’s right. Get it all out, you moody bastard.’
‘Fuck’s sake, Dratos. That’s not tobacco.’ Dratos frowned. ‘Why would I smoke tobacco? Tastes like shit.’ He took a hearty pull on the pipe, embers glowing in the bowl. ‘This here is the finest Naarvian grass a smile like mine can buy.’ Wilder spat the bitter taste on the ground. ‘You’re getting high? Now?’
‘Takes the edge off your vicious insults.’ ‘It’ll take the edge off your fighting if we’re attacked.’ ‘Nothing takes the edge off my fighting,’ he replied,
The ranger gave a hoarse laugh. ‘You bringing anything to the table? Besides your mood swings and muscles, I mean?’ ‘I brought a soon-to-be Warsword.’ ‘Great, and I brought my cousin Gus,’ Dratos replied drily. ‘Anything else?’
‘I was right, all that time ago…’ Wilder mused, watching her carve up the monsters. ‘About what?’ she managed between blows. ‘You’re even more beautiful with steel in your hands, and the blood of your enemies splattered across your face.’
‘When I stand against the gods at the end of my days,’ he told her fiercely, ‘I will regret nothing. Not the lies I’ve told, nor the lives I’ve claimed or the rivers of blood I’ve spilt. I do not regret a single moment, because every one of them led me to you.’
Thea was a trembling mess, shock settling into her bones. ‘Does this mean… Does it mean that I can be both? Both Warsword and storm wielder?’ A knowing smile tempted the Fury’s lips. ‘Who’s going to stop you?’ she said.
‘Because there is power in names,’ Thea replied. ‘And women whose might is etched in history deserve to have their names carved there too.’
Iseldra, Morwynn and Valdara… ‘It’s an honour to meet you.’ Thea bowed low. She wondered if it would be the only bow she ever made of her own free will to those who had earnt it, rather than out of obligation.
But hers was different to those she had studied so intensely before. Her totem had an addition she’d never seen. Behind the three blades were streaks of lightning.
