Page 52 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Torin stepped forward, his dark hair sleek under the light that painted it an inky blue colour. He slipped a hand into his waistband and pulled out a medium-sized dagger that curved into a fatal tip.

“Melione,” Torin’s voice was soft and seeking as he called. “It’s Torin, we need to chat.”

He knew her well. Emara could tell by the way he called her name.

A hand appeared around hanging fabric that was sectioned into long strips, forming a colourful, flowing door. A woman’s face peered through the fabric, parting it as she made her way through the entryway.

He placed the knife back into his waistline, determining her not a threat.

A seductive smile caressed her lips and she slowly walked over to Torin. But not too close.

“You just can’t resist me, can you, Torin Blacksteel?” she purred.

“Actually, it’s not that kind of visit,” Torin announced, a slow, seductive smile pushing its way onto his lips.

He couldn’t help himself, could he? He had dragged her all this way down into the pits of the market to flirt with an old flame. Emara shifted onto one leg, popping her hip out to the side and crossing her arms. This time, she couldn’t hide the eye roll. Or the sigh.

Melione’s piercing eyes darted to Emara. She looked her up and down from head to toe, judging every inch of her. Melione dragged her sharp indigo fingernails through her hair.

“Who is she?” she asked, her voice inquisitive.

Melione held incredible beauty, her hair of moonlight silver and her eyes dark brown, framed with dark lashes. Her lips were painted a dark mauve colour and her features contrasted together to make something magnificent.

“It doesn’t matter who she is,” Torin replied sharply.

“Charming,” Emara muttered.

He heard her and he stiffened, but he didn’t look to where Emara was standing, his face focused on Melione. No wonder he couldn’t stop looking at her. She was stunning. Her long gown hugged her cinched waist tightly as the material flowed to the floor in a dark shimmering purple. The gown’s neckline plunged down into the curves of her breasts, making anyone who looked at her instantly drawn there. Male or female.

Emara noticed a small tattoo on her collarbone, a singular circle in thick, black ink.

“Oh, but it does matter who she is,” Melione said, her face unreadable, as if she knew exactly who she was. “Follow me.” Her tone changed to something more ominous.

Emara’s stomach flipped, but she obeyed.

Once through the makeshift drape, Emara couldn’t miss the centrepiece of the room. A table lined with black, sparkling fabric held a deck of cards and a large ball sat in the middle, made of the purest crystal. Little crackles of energy swam through the transparent centre like tadpoles in a pond, making it enchanting to look at.

“Take a seat.” Melione gestured to the two chairs.

Torin pulled out the chair and looked at Emara as a command to sit.

She did, apprehensively.

“Blacksteel, your fate has not changed since I last looked through the crystal ball. I can cleanse the air and check to see if anything has altered, but—”

“That’s not why we are here,” Torin dismissed.

Emara’s head shot around to study him.

Your fate has not changed since the last time…

She couldn’t help but find herself wondering what he had been told.

“Then why have you come? You know I cannot change your fate, but only guide you—”

Torin jumped in again; this time he wasn’t dismissing her, but changing the subject, “Melione, can you confirm to me what this stone is?” He pulled out the stone and placed it on the table.

Melione glanced down and pushed back from the table, gasping.

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