Page 40 of Shadow & Storms

‘Kipp,’ Cal warned, his voice low.

But Kipp darted forward, wrestling Cal to the ground with surprising strength and, to Thea’s horror, dragging the back of Cal’s pants down, enough to expose a pale cheek.

A small shape marred the skin there, and upon closer inspection, Thea tipped her head back, suddenly unable to breathe for the hilarity of it. She clutched her stomach, tears streaming down her face as she wheezed.

‘Tell me that’s not a —’

‘Laughing Fox?’ Kipp finished for her, grinning. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Fuck you, Kipp,’ Cal growled, trying to wriggle away from their friend, who still had him pinned to the floor. ‘I know you’re to blame for it. You were there, whispering in —’

‘I had nothing to do with it!’ Kipp said, but the gleam in his eyes said otherwise.

‘Thea —’ Wren’s voice sounded from the door, before she stopped in her tracks, her eyes going straight to Cal’s bare backside. ‘What in the midrealms are you doing?’ she gaped.

Kipp shoved Cal away. ‘Put your arse away, Callahan, there’s a princess present,’ he said, turning to Thea’s sister. ‘Elwren, you look as lovely as ever.’

Wren glanced at Thea with a look of disbelief.

‘Don’t ask,’ Thea told her, getting to her feet. ‘What is it?’

‘They asked me to come get you,’ Wren replied, still looking baffled at the Guardians who were straightening their clothes and expressions. ‘The allies’ meeting is starting early.’ She slid a small silver tin onto the chest of drawers. ‘And this is the salve I promised. Use it twice a day for a week and the pain should subside.’

Thea ignored her friends’ questioning looks and pocketed the tin, her scarred wrist aching at the mention. ‘Thank you.’

Instead of taking them to the Scholar’s Lounge like Thea expected, Wren took them to a formal dining room. A long mahogany table ran the length of the space, lined with high-backed chairs. Talemir sat at the head, with Drue on his left and Malik on his right. Mal was braiding a strip of leather between his huge fingers, with Dax curled up a few feet away. Dratos, Anya and Adrienne lined Drue’s other side, while Audra sat next to Malik and Farissa, Thezmarr’s alchemy master, took the place at her right.

Wren strode forward and sat beside her mentor, and Cal and Kipp followed her, taking their places as well.

Where’s Wilder? Thea wondered, scanning the room for his handsome face. Where had he gone so early in the morning without so much as a word to her? Was he alright? It had only been a few nights since his rescue from the Scarlet Tower, and she knew his sleep had been fractured, plagued by nightmares —

A scraping noise sounded as Adrienne pushed back the empty chair beside her. ‘Here, Thea,’ she offered.

Thea took a breath, grounding herself in the here and now before she went to Adrienne, accepting the seat. As she looked around, goosebumps rushed across her skin at the familiar faces that met her gaze. Friends and family, new and old – each and every one of them meant something to her now. They had all come together again, but it was a far cry from the drunken, crowded room at the Singing Hare. This was so much more formal, more sombre… It suddenly felt so real. They were here in Naarva to plan battles. The decisions they made here would impact countless lives, would end just as many…

A steaming mug was placed in front of her, tendrils of peppermint wafting up to her nose, as Wilder took up the empty chair beside her.

‘Shall we begin?’ he said, placing his scabbards on the table and leaning back in his seat.

At the head of the table, Talemir bowed his head. ‘The first order of business is the consequences of what Thea and I did to the Scarlet Tower,’ he said, with an apologetic glance in Thea’s direction.

‘I knew there would be consequences,’ she replied. ‘Do you know what they are yet?’

Talemir nodded gravely. ‘King Artos declared that you’re not only a fallen Warsword, but the lost heir of Delmira, come to finish what your parents started all those years ago…’ He looked to Wren, who dug through her pockets and produced two crumpled pieces of parchment.

‘After your little lightning display at the tower, they put a price on both our heads.’ She passed Thea the yellowed flyers.

Wanted. Elwren Embervale (previously known as Zoltaire). Alleged storm wielder and heir of Delmira. Wanted dead or alive, in association with the Daughter of Darkness.

‘Where did you get these?’ Thea turned to the second sketch, where her own likeness stared back at her, a similar message scrawled beneath it:

Wanted. Althea Embervale (previously known as Zoltaire). Fallen Warsword. Alleged storm wielder and firstborn heir of Delmira. Wanted dead or alive for: treason, the destruction of the Scarlet Tower, aiding and abetting a known criminal, murder, unnamed crimes against the midrealms, association with the Daughter of Darkness.

‘That’s quite a list,’ Wilder murmured beside her.

‘Don’t be put out,’ Dratos interjected, sliding another poster across the table. ‘There’s one for the Hand of Death, too.’

Thea turned the parchment over and met the vicious gaze of Wilder Hawthorne, his features drawn far sharper and more unforgiving than the true lines of his face.

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