Chapter Twelve

Wilder was beyond grateful to find Biscuit, his Tverrian stallion, in the university stables. The hand told him it was the ‘Bear Slayer behemoth' who had managed to swindle the horse from King Artos' possession and send him Anya's way.

Breathing in the scent of fresh hay in the stall, Wilder brushed Biscuit's black coat into a shine, making a mental note to thank his brother in arms. As a Warsword, he'd never gone into battle without Biscuit, and he didn't plan on starting anytime soon, not with the war ahead looking so grim.

The thought lanced him with another pang of regret. There were many these days. Because of his capture, Thea hadn't gone to Tver to capture her own stallion. Because of him, Thea wouldn't be riding into battle with a horse that was Furies-made for her.

‘There was something a little more pressing to attend to first, Warsword,'she had said.

‘Beautiful, stubborn woman,' he muttered, shaking his head and taking a comb to Biscuit's mane. Thea's stubborn streak had infuriated and fascinated him from the very beginning.

‘It's a nice change when you're agreeable,' he'd told her on the road to Delmira.

‘Don't expect it to last.'

‘Wouldn't dream of it, Princess.'

When she swore at him, he warned, ‘Be cordial. Or when you become a Warsword I'll be there to name your Tverrian stallion "Pancake", or something worse.'

Those earlier days of travelling together as master and apprentice seemed so long ago, and yet he looked back on them fondly. The memories were full of colour, rather than the stifling darkness of so many others.

The tower had left him scrambling for reality and control, and it was manifesting in ways he hadn't expected. He was holding back with Thea. He was questioning the world before him, and he couldn't seem to let go.

Desperate to ground himself, Wilder continued combing Biscuit's mane. The repetitive motion of teasing out the knots soothed him, stilled the tremor in his right little finger that still plagued him. With a shudder, he wondered if it was a withdrawal symptom from whatever drugs they'd forced into him, before he instantly shut the thought down, boxed it up and shoved it deep in the recesses of his mind.

But the damage was done. The thought took root and the tremor returned. Suddenly, he was back in that dark cell, the weight of the tower's magic pressing down on him, his own abilities muted, his body slick with sweat as the onslaught of nightmares flashed before him.

Biscuit whinnied, shifting beneath Wilder's touch, sensing his unease, his fear.

‘You'll become a legend among monsters.' The Archmage of Chains' voice came back to him in a poisoned whisper, making his skin crawl, a shiver racing down his spine. He had been moments away from becoming a weapon in their army, a tool to be used against everyone he held dear, his free will stripped away entirely.

Cursing silently, Wilder tossed the comb back into the grooming kit and searched for the farrier's rasp —

Only to find it clutched in a large, outstretched hand.

He knew those hands. Had seen them braid countless belts. He didn't dare believe it, not until he looked up and saw his brother's face, and even then, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming again.

‘Malik?' he managed.

His huge frame took up the entire entrance to the stall, even with his shoulders slightly caved in as he handed Wilder the tool.

‘This isn't real,' Wilder muttered, as he took the rasp. ‘This is what they do…'

It followed the same pattern as it had in the cell. A myriad of horrific memories and imaginings, and only at the point of the mind breaking would they show something good… Only to start the torture all over again.

Malik's huge hand came down on Wilder's shoulder, a gentle but firm weight, his fingers digging in just enough to give Wilder pause —

A soft bark sounded from his brother's side.

‘Dax?' Wilder stared at the mongrel. His ears were pricked up, as Wilder had seen countless times before when Malik had been in a trance of sorts.

Wilder's gaze slid back to his brother. ‘You're really here…'

Malik's eyes crinkled as he grinned and pulled Wilder into a near-suffocating hug. Wilder let him. And a moment later, he squeezed Malik back, taking solace in his brother's presence like he had when they were younger.

At last he broke away, emotion welling in his throat. Malik simply smiled and motioned for Wilder to continue with Biscuit's grooming. Wilder shook his head in disbelief, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘You certainly get around nowadays,' he told his brother, picking up Biscuit's front leg and tending to his shoe.

Malik made a noise of amusement, reaching for Biscuit's mane and dividing it up into sections.

‘You're not seriously about to braid my warhorse's mane?' Wilder said.

Malik ignored him and went about doing exactly that.

With another shake of his head, Wilder continued cleaning and shaping Biscuit's shoes. Someone had been taking decent care of them in his absence. It was surreal, to be working quietly in the stall with his brother at his side, Dax sprawled in the hay by the door. He could feel Malik watching him, just as he was stealing glimpses at Malik, as though neither of them quite believed the other was there. It had been a long time since they'd been alone together.

When Wilder returned the tools to the kit, he found himself staring at the faint scars that littered Mal's face. The memory of him being attacked at Islaton felt more fresh than it had the day after it had happened, thanks to the Scarlet Tower.

‘I told you before,' a rich voice sounded from the door. ‘None of it was ever your fault, Wilder.'

Talemir was there, leaning against the frame, his hazel eyes brimming with more understanding than Wilder felt he deserved.

‘I didn't say —' he started.

‘You didn't need to say. You've been carrying that burden since the day it happened.' He strode forward and slung an arm around Malik's enormous shoulders. ‘We're safe. We're whole,' he said. ‘Wouldn't you agree, Mal?'

Malik covered Talemir's face with his gigantic palm and gave him a gentle push with a grin.

Talemir laughed and raised a brow at Wilder. ‘See? Same old shit.'

Wilder forced himself to take a deep breath, to process the sight of his brother and his former mentor before him, something he'd thought he would never see again.

Dax gave another bark and Biscuit snorted in protest at the mongrel's presence, but Wilder still stared, stuck. Here were the men who had suffered because of him, the men he had cared for his whole life, whom he'd been unable to save from their fates —

Talemir's expression softened. ‘It's time to let go.'

Wilder's whole body sagged. ‘But I —'

‘No.' Talemir shook his head. ‘No buts. What happened at Islaton was never your fault. We were never your responsibility. Our own choices led to the events of that day, not yours.'

Malik made a sound of agreement.

‘We won't be your excuse any longer,' Talemir said firmly.

Wilder baulked. ‘Excuse?'

‘To not live your life fully, to hold back —'

‘What do you know about it?' Wilder asked quietly. ‘I haven't seen you in over eight years. You don't know anything about my life.'

‘Is that what you think?' Talemir scoffed. ‘You think that I haven't checked in over the years?'

Wilder stared at him, the stall suddenly seeming far too small with Biscuit, Malik and Talemir all crowding the space around him.

‘It's time to let that day go,' Talemir said again.

‘You could have died. Both of you.'

‘Such is life.' Talemir exchanged a knowing look with Malik. ‘And yet here we stand.'

For a second, Wilder felt like a young Guardian again, standing in the presence of far greater men than he. He and Torj had followed them around like puppies, in awe of how the Shieldbreaker and Prince of Hearts moved through the world. Despite everything that had happened, they stood just as tall now, just as unyielding.

‘What do you say, Apprentice? Will you put all this shit behind you?' Talemir prompted, hazel eyes gleaming with mischief.

‘I'm not your fucking apprentice,' Wilder muttered, unable to stop the tug of a smile.

‘Well?'

Wilder grunted. ‘I'll try.'

‘Good enough, for now.' Tal started towards the door. He paused on the threshold of the stables, surveying the lush grounds before them and letting out a small sigh with a glance at Wilder. ‘Every now and then, just for a moment, I forget the horrors outside these walls. The war brewing so close by. For a fraction of a second, I can breathe in the peace —'

Something collided with Talemir's torso, sending him staggering sideways.

Wilder jumped back, his dagger half-drawn, before he saw the source of the mayhem.

‘Boo!' A little boy had flung himself onto Talemir. A pair of tiny wings flapped at his back and a slouchy knitted cap fell about his eyes as he laughed with glee.

‘You…' Talemir's eyes crinkled in amusement as he peeled the child from his torso and held him at arm's length, the boy's legs kicking joyfully in the air. ‘Are not meant to be here.'

The child only grinned wider.

Wilder could only stare at the wriggling bundle of mischief in Talemir's arms. With the same nose, the same chin and even the same wave in his dark golden-brown hair, the boy was almost a mirror image of the Shadow Prince, except for the ice-blue shade of his bright eyes.

A garbled noise escaped Talemir as a small foot hit a soft spot, and he snatched the child around the waist and hung him upside down, the boy's tiny wings flapping. ‘What have I told you about doing that?' Talemir said, though there was no missing the note of amusement in his tone. ‘Your mother —'

‘Thought it was high time his father experienced some of the insanity this morning,' came a voice from nearby.

Wilder turned to see a beautiful woman watching them from the stable fence line, her arms folded over her chest, a sword and cutlass hanging at her hips. She stood as elegantly as a dancer, burnt-umber hair threaded with streaks of red falling loosely to her mid-back. Perched on her shoulder was a familiar hawk.

‘Drue?' Wilder gaped at her. Terrence flapped his wings and launched from the ranger's shoulder.

‘I haven't aged a day, Hawthorne,' she quipped. ‘So quit your gawking and give me a hug.'

He hadn't seen her since he'd left on such bad terms all those years ago, but Drue greeted him with a wide smile, her piercing blue eyes bright as they settled on him.

She didn't hesitate, striding forward and throwing her arms around his neck. ‘Good to have you back.'

After the shock ebbed away, Wilder returned her embrace. ‘I'm sorry,' he told her. ‘I'm sorry for how I behaved.'

Drue clapped him on the back and held him at arm's length to peer into his face. ‘You were young and stupid.'

Wilder gave a hoarse laugh. ‘As opposed to now?'

‘Now you're just stupid,' she said with a grin.

‘You haven't changed.'

‘Why would she?' Talemir interjected, striding forward and dropping a kiss to his wife's temple. ‘There's no improving perfection.'

A blush stained Drue's cheeks, but she looked pleased.

Wilder glanced back at Talemir, who had his hands full with his spitting image.

‘This was who I wanted you to meet yesterday,' Talemir explained, throwing the boy over his shoulder. ‘This is our son, Ryland.'

Breaking away from their embrace, Drue huffed a laugh. ‘Son. Menace. Harbinger of destruction. Whatever you want to call him.'

For a moment, Wilder stared, suddenly hit with the gravity of all he had missed over the years. Talemir had a son. And he hadn't been here, hadn't even known —

‘I'm happy for you,' he managed somewhat awkwardly.

Talemir chuckled good-naturedly. ‘Didn't think you'd see the day, did you?'

That, at least, put Wilder at ease, a genuine smile spreading across his face as his friend wrestled with the unruly child. ‘Fatherhood looks good on you, Tal.'

‘Everything looks good on me,' the Shadow Prince replied.

Drue rolled her eyes. ‘We're late for lunch.' She motioned towards the main grounds.

Ryland threw his hand to his brow in salute. ‘Captain!'

Talemir laughed deeply. ‘You've got that right, Trouble.'

But Wilder blinked, still in shock. ‘Lunch?'

‘It's a meal you have around midday,' Drue quipped. ‘And we're late.'

Wilder's side warmed as Malik stood at his left, Dax's tail beating against his right leg, as though they could sense him on the verge of overwhelm.

‘Sounds good,' he managed, shooting his brother a grateful look.

As they walked through the university, Wilder was torn between marvelling at the lush grounds and the startling fact that he was here with his brother and Talemir after all this time, with Talemir's son darting about their feet with Dax. There was no missing the pride in Tal's gaze as he watched the little boy make a nuisance of himself. It was surreal, to say the least. So much had changed.

When they reached the quadrangle, Wilder spotted Thea in one of the alcoves. She was hunched over a notebook, scribbling away, looking deep in thought, far away from here.

What's she writing?Wilder wondered.

He realised he'd stopped walking, and that Talemir had halted beside him, while Drue, Malik, Dax and Ryland had gone ahead. Tal followed his gaze to Thea.

‘Thank you,' Wilder said quietly. ‘Thank you for going with her to the tower.'

‘Nothing would have stopped her,' Talemir replied.

Wilder smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. ‘I know.'

Talemir gave him a broad grin. ‘I'm happy for you, my old friend.'

‘As I am for you.'

‘Took you long enough,' Tal quipped.

Sensing their attention, Thea looked up from her writing, her eyes finding Wilder's across the quadrangle instantly.

But Talemir made a pained noise as he spotted something soaring towards them.

‘What?' Wilder said, making out Terrence's form as the hawk made a beeline for them.

‘If Drue's sending Terrence back, we're in trouble.' Talemir started towards the entrance of the main building.

‘I'll catch up,' Wilder called after him.

‘It'd be in your best interests if you do.' Talemir winced as Terrence landed hard on his shoulder. Knowing the hawk, he'd done so on purpose, Wilder mused as the pair disappeared inside.

Thea's voice sounded beside him. ‘You two talked?'

Wilder turned to her, the sight of her stealing the air from his lungs. The light filtering through Tal's shadow shield caught the gold in her braid. Her eyes were bright and alert as she studied him in turn, her luscious lips slightly parted.

‘We did.'

He leant down to kiss her, marvelling at how he was able to do so freely now. Her mouth met his eagerly, opening for him, allowing his tongue to sweep in. He moaned at the taste of her. Would it ever end? The insatiable need for her? The feral desire to possess her mind, body and soul? He wanted to have her against one of the stone pillars, not caring who saw him claim her —

Thea broke away. ‘Don't start what you can't finish, Warsword,' she warned.

‘Who said anything about not finishing?' he growled.

‘We've got to meet the others.'

‘Fuck the others.'

Thea laughed and tugged on his hand. ‘I didn't think you'd be up for sharing.'

A startled noise escaped him at her filthy words. ‘Never.'

‘That's what I thought,' Thea replied smugly. She led him into the main university building. She seemed to have gotten acquainted with the place far more quickly than he had.

‘Where are you taking us?' Wilder asked as they entered an area that looked more residential than formal.

‘The Scholar's Lounge,' Thea replied.

‘I think we're meant to go to some sort of meal…?'

‘We are.' She pushed open a pair of double doors and entered the room, leaving Wilder with no choice but to follow.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't the warm and inviting space beyond. Not a dining room, but cosy and comfortable living quarters. Floor-to-ceiling windows graced the far walls, light filtering through the glass and the leaves of the trees outside.

Malik was already there, looking out onto the grounds. Thea gasped, lurching forward.

‘Mal!' she cried, pure joy brightening her whole face. As she greeted the former Warsword, Dax jumped up to lick her cheek and she laughed, the sound lighting up the entire room.

Wilder watched for a moment, the sight warming his fragile heart. They had been friends long before Wilder had ever laid eyes on Thea, and the pairing somehow worked: the Shieldbreaker and the lost heir of Delmira. Malik beamed at her and tugged on the end of her braid before tapping the pommel of her Naarvian steel blade, as if to say, I always knew you could do it.

Thea's answering grin was bold and bright.

Leaving them to their reunion, Wilder turned to the rest of the room. The furniture was all mismatched, as though it had been taken from all over the university and mashed together. Somehow, it suited the place. It was carpeted with thick rugs, with several lounges and armchairs framing the edges. Adrienne, Dratos and Anya sat with plates balanced on their laps, talking quietly among themselves, each of them giving him a nod or a wave of acknowledgement. He was glad Adrienne and Anya didn't leap to their feet to make a fuss, though he saw the relief in both their eyes at the sight of him whole and unharmed.

Dratos' cousin, Gus, was cross-legged on the floor with Ryland, who was stealing grapes from his plate with a gleeful laugh. A long table was pushed up against another wall, plates stacked on one end with a variety of steaming dishes waiting.

Drue approached, linking her arm through his. ‘Are you going to introduce me to your lady Warsword or what, Hawthorne?'

A chuckle escaped Wilder at that, and he led Drue over to where Thea was still talking with Malik.

‘Thea,' he said. ‘I want you to meet Drue Emmerson, Talemir's wife.'

Drue thrust a hand out to Thea, who shook it firmly.

‘That's not my only claim to fame, I assure you,' Drue said with a grin. ‘But thank you for keeping my husband in one piece. Though I'm yet to hear the story of how you won Hawthorne's moody heart.'

‘He's still as moody as ever,' Dratos offered from nearby, flexing his wings.

Wilder rolled his eyes. ‘Always a pleasure, Dratos.'

But Drue was pushing him towards the table with the food. ‘Get a plate. You too, Thea,' she called.

It wasn't long before Wilder found himself in an armchair, a plate piled high with food on his knees and a tankard of ale at his feet as the chaos of family unfolded around him. Thea had pulled up a seat beside him and was fighting back tears of laughter as, against his parents' protests, Ryland proceeded to strip off his pants and dart around the room wearing not a stitch of clothing but for the ugly knitted hat that kept falling over his eyes.

Talemir sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘It's a phase he's going through,' he said. ‘Hates wearing clothes. Wants to be naked all the time…'

‘I remember you going through a similar phase,' Drue retorted.

‘Oh, that wasn't a phase, Wildfire,' Talemir replied with a wink.

Dratos made a noise of disgust. ‘Will you two cut it out? Some of us are trying to eat.'

A tiny hand reached for his food.

‘Put some pants on, you terror,' Dratos barked, but Ryland only laughed and snagged a chicken leg from his plate.

Drue shook her head and took a long drink from her tankard. ‘It's a lost cause.'

Wilder watched it all unfold, realising his cheeks were aching from smiling as Talemir scooped up Ryland and tried to wrangle him back into his clothes. Talemir's joy was contagious, and for the first time in years, Wilder understood. He saw it for himself: even amid the pending war and the encroaching darkness, Talemir was more than whole, more than happy. Wilder hadn't robbed him of anything.

‘Definitely your son,' Drue called, her voice light with amusement as Ryland kicked and squealed against his father's efforts.

Wilder's throat bobbed as he tried to swallow the lump forming there. He caught Thea watching him in his peripheral vision.

‘You're alright?' she asked, quietly enough that only he could hear.

He covered her hand with his and stroked the scar-littered skin there with his thumb. ‘Yes,' he told her, and for the first time since leaving that tower, he meant it.

Drue hit her fork against the side of her tankard, commanding their attention.

‘I had planned on a grand welcome speech,' she said after clearing her throat. ‘But truth be told, I just wanted us to have a meal, have a moment together, before…'

Drue trailed off. She didn't need to finish her sentence. They all knew what she meant: before the war. Before everything changed. For they all knew it was coming, knew there was no stopping it now.

‘Tomorrow, we start planning. The training begins, the strategising starts in earnest, but today… today, we eat.'

Wilder raised his own tankard, gratitude swelling in his chest. ‘To good food,' he toasted.

‘And even better company,' Dratos drawled, tipping his own tankard back and draining it.

‘And —'

But Adrienne was cut off by one of the doors flying open. A dishevelled Wren entered, wearing an apron, her face smudged with dirt. ‘Sorry, sorry!' She wiped her hands on a clean patch of her apron and reached for a plate as she scanned the room. ‘Did I miss anything? Did anyone else arrive —'

‘Like who?' Anya said, a coy smile on her lips.

Wren pinned her with a challenging glare. ‘Like Cal, and Kipp…?'

‘No one else?' Anya pressed, her eyes bright. ‘Not a golden-haired Warsword, perhaps?'

Beside Wilder, Thea glanced between her two sisters and bit her lip, fighting a smile of her own. Wilder waited for her to explain, but she just shook her head. Later, she mouthed.

Wren was still glaring at their shadow-touched sister.

‘Cal and Kipp are on their way,' Anya replied, still grinning.

Wren's eyes narrowed and she looked as though she wanted to ask something more, but instead she turned back to the food and scooped an enormous serving of salad onto her plate. ‘Good.'

A huff of amusement sounded, and Wilder looked across the room to see Talemir cradling Ryland in his arms. The little boy looked so small sagging against his father's broad chest, his tiny wings drooping at his back, his cheeks flushed with sleep.

‘Thank the gods for that,' Drue muttered from her armchair, downing the rest of her drink. But she looked at the pair with utter adoration in her eyes.

‘Turned out pretty well for them, don't you think?' Thea said quietly, following Wilder's gaze.

‘I wouldn't have believed it yesterday,' Wilder admitted. ‘But… yes, I think it did.'

He didn't want what Tal and Drue had, not exactly. He only wanted Thea. A future with her. And for a moment, he allowed himself to dream that fate would allow them to have it.