Page 34 of Thorns & Fire
But from the corner of her eye she saw the Bear Slayer reluctantly use the fallen tree to swing up into his saddle.
CHAPTER 12
Wren
‘Desire can alter the mind as deeply as any poison’
– The Poisoner’s Handbook
ONCE AGAIN, WRENfound herself alone on the road with the Warsword who’d shattered her heart.To make matters worse, a violent storm had rolled in, and try as she might, Wren couldn’t bring it to heel.She blamed him for that as well.There was no controlling the thick clouds swallowing up the sky, or the downpour of rain assaulting them.
‘What’s wrong with your magic?’Torj demanded from where he sat soaked in his saddle.The road had turned to a muddy river beneath their horses’ hooves, and there was no reprieve in sight.
‘Nothing,’ Wren snapped.
‘Then why can’t you stop this?’he pressed.
‘Perhaps I like seeing you suffer.’
Torj barked a laugh.‘Perhaps, but I can hear your teeth chattering from here.You’re not exactly enjoying the monsoon.’
Wren clenched her jaw and tried to ignore him.She knew that everyone saw her as the most controlled Embervale sister, the most disciplined when it came to her storm magic...but here she was,drenched to the bone and shivering, unable to bend the storm to her will, unable to call it off.
‘Seriously, Embervale,’ Torj called over the roar of the rain.‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s none of your business,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘It’s my business if something you once used for defence is no longer reliable.’
Wren urged her mare to quicken their pace.But after another hour of riding in the torrential deluge, her body aching from shivering so hard, she was relieved when Torj pointed to a dense copse of trees on the crest of a hill up ahead.
‘We should take shelter there.The ground is high enough that I could pitch my tent.Keep a steady pace, though – we don’t want to trigger a landslide.’
For once, Wren didn’t argue.
The sky erupted with another deafening crack of thunder.She flinched.The storms had always been like kin to her, and now she was a stranger amid their chaos.Rain lashed down in angry sheets, stinging her exposed skin and plastering her clothes to her body.
Her mare gave a cry of distress, and Wren leaned forwards, stroking the horse’s neck.‘Easy, girl,’ she murmured, though her own heart raced.
Beside her, Torj’s broad shoulders were hunched against the deluge, and Wren winced at the impact the rain must be having on his fresh wounds.His stallion plodded on stoically, head lowered against the wind.
They started the ascent to the hilltop, and Wren cast aside her concern at her lack of power and simply focused on controlling her skittish mount as best she could.Together, Warsword and poisoner urged the horses up the muddy incline, their hooves slipping on the sodden grass.As they reached the shelter of the trees, they guided their mounts to a halt.The canopy above provided some relief, but rain still found its way through, and Wren wondered whether she’d ever feel her toes again.
Torj swung down from his saddle with a grimace, the motion clearly pulling at his bandaged back.He moved around his stallion to help Wren dismount.
She eyed the puddles of water and muddy tracks on the ground, assessing the likelihood of landing on her arse.She hesitated a moment longer before accepting his outstretched hand.His fingers were cold, just as hers were, but familiar, strong.As she swung her leg over the saddle, her boot got caught in the stirrup, causing her to flail—
‘I’ve got you,’ Torj murmured in her ear, catching her against his chest.He had spoken those words to her before, and they had the same effect on her now.Despite everything he had done to hurt her, Wren’s heartbeat quickened, and the urge to push her fingers through his wet hair and drag his mouth to hers overwhelmed her.For a second, she froze, staring up at him while his strong arms steadied her.Her palms rested against his rain-soaked shirt, feeling his heart pound beneath the material.
Then, as if burned, they both pulled away, Wren turning her back to him so she could compose herself.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, looping her mare’s reins around a low-hanging branch.
Torj was already moving to his saddlebags.He pulled out a rolled-up tent, the canvas heavy with water.
Wren tried to make herself useful, scouting for the highest, flattest patch of land.‘Here looks good,’ she called.
Surveying the spot, the Bear Slayer nodded.‘It’ll have to do.’He passed her a corner of canvas.‘Here.Lay this out.’
