Page 129 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
‘You know why…’ Talemir ventured.
‘Because of Drue?’
‘Because of many things, Wilder.’
A muscle in Wilder’s jaw twitched. ‘First you keep secrets from me, and now this?’
‘One day you’ll understand.’
‘Understand that you’re breaking your Warsword vows? That you’re abandoning Thezmarr?’
‘Thezmarr wouldn’t have me, not as I am now. You know this.’
‘Farissa did,’ Wilder bit back.
‘Farissa is one of a kind. I no longer belong with the guild, but among the shadow-touched.’
‘No. You can hide it. The guild need never know. You can’t tell what you are, looking at you now —’
‘I don’t want to hide who I am, Wilder,’ Talemir said gently. ‘Not anymore. This is my choice and my choice alone. I’m leaving the guild for a greater cause – the shadow-touched people need a leader, need help. Perhaps the day will come where you need us too.’
Wilder clenched his fists, one of his hands drifting to the hilt of his sword.
‘Are you going to fight me again?’ Talemir asked, keeping his voice light. ‘I proved to you earlier that you’re not ready, not nearly ready to best me.’
Wilder’s lip curled in anger, but he didn’t reach for his blade. ‘You expect me to keep this – you and the other half-wraiths – a secret from Thezmarr?’
‘Yes,’ Talemir said simply. ‘The guild will call for our deaths without understanding us. You’re lying if you say otherwise.’
‘So it’s that simple, is it? What the fuck do I tell them happened to you?’
Talemir sighed, glimpsing Drue across the camp. ‘Tell them I found a wife.’
Wilder swore. ‘And what about me? You’d abandon your apprentice?’
Talemir smiled sadly. ‘You haven’t been my apprentice for a long time, my brother.’ He reached for the jewel around his neck and pulled it free, closing the gap between himself and his protégé and pressing it into Wilder’s palm. ‘I promise you will understand one day. And when you do, you’ll know who to give this to.’
‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ Wilder ground out.
‘But you will,’ Talemir told him gently. ‘For now, your purpose is clear.’
Wilder laughed darkly. ‘Fuck you.’
But Talemir gripped his shoulder. ‘Not all is as it seems at Thezmarr. You know this in your bones. You know this after talking to the Naarvians. You have noticed your call for aid went unanswered? There has been no sign of our brotherhood. Keep the current state of this kingdom a secret,’ he said. ‘To the outside world, Naarva should appear as it has for the last year or so: an overgrown ghost kingdom but for its forge.’
‘I take no orders from you,’ Wilder spat. ‘You’re no longer a Warsword, no longer a brother of mine.’
‘Your anger with me will fade in time, Wilder,’ Talemir assured him. ‘But for now, you need to go on. You need to hunt the reapers. Here —’ He pressed a small vial of extract into Wilder’s hands. ‘This is the last of it. Treat your swords with it. We’ll endeavour to make more.’
Pocketing the bottle, Wilder shook his head and mounted his horse. ‘Fuck you, Tal,’ he said again, before riding off towards the horizon.
Someone let out a low whistle nearby and Talemir turned to find Gus’ cousin Dratos, the half-wraith ranger, watching, a bemused expression on his face. ‘That went well…’
But there was nothing malicious in his words, only pity.
‘Let’s hope my next conversation goes better,’ Talemir replied, running his fingers through his hair.
To his surprise, Dratos fell into step beside him.
