Page 73 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

“Yes?” she breathed.

“I need to go,” he said.

Disappointment soared through her.

“I can’t be caught out here. With you…like this.” He pressed his head against hers.

“Then go,” she whispered back, not really wanting him to.

He exhaled deeply and then pulled back. Discontent stabbed into her chest and she lingered for a moment before finally opening her eyes.

“See you soon, Emara,” he said, before taking his leave.

Emara almost swooned like a little girl, but she held it together as she watched him walk away. Her grip tightened on the rose.

Ouch! She looked down at her hand. A droplet of crimson blood fell onto the ground from the thorny white rose Gideon had gifted her. As she looked at it, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a reminder that what she was feeling was too good to be true.

It was eating into the early hours of the morning and Cally still hadn’t returned from wherever in the Gods’ land she was. All Emara wanted to do was speak to her about what had happened with her grandmother’s gallery, finally telling her everything, or about Gideon in the garden, but timing never seemed to be on her side.

She was exhausted after today. However, the tiredness didn’t stop the swirling unanswered questions that gripped at her heart. Although she had gotten some answers today, it wasn’t enough. In fact, today’s events made the swirling madness in her mind even heavier. Once upon a time, her grandmother was the supreme of all witches. And she was gone. And she was never coming back.

She sat up abruptly and rubbed at her chest, as if the ache of her breaking heart would go away. Digesting the words in her grandmother’s note that had run around her mind since she had read it, she felt a hollowness in her heart. They had been her last words to Emara instead of the blood-filled words she had choked out the night she had died. For that, she was thankful. Emara pulled a frantic hand through her hair, combing its wildness down, and huffed out a sigh.

Although Theodora had insinuated that Emara must not ask questions about who she was or dig into her past, a desire to look into everything she was told not to clawed deep.

I want you to know I have tried to keep you from this world, but only in the efforts to protect you from it. It is not safe for you. Should you find yourself in this position, trust no one. I want you to leave Caledorna and not look back.

She took a deep breath, beginning to feel the sting of tears in her eyes as she thought through the letter. She pulled her knees up to her chest and exhaled slowly, breathing in and out.

After sorting through her thoughts, she knew she wasn’t going to run. Running wasn’t an option. She was going to search for the truth.

At dinner, Emara had overheard one of the hunters discussing manuscripts which documented every birth here in Huntswood. Similar to how they documented births and deaths in her own village, and Emara couldn’t help but wonder what else she could find stored in tower’s library.

It was calling to her. That deeply stacked library in the heart of the tower was calling her name as she sat, irritated, in bed. The endless thoughts that ran through her mind about her grandmother’s secret life had taken root, and the seeds of curiosity were starting to sprout and grow now that Cally wasn’t here to distract her.

Now she understood why Callyn always kept herself busy. Distracted.

Emara knew she would need to deal with her grandmother’s death; she knew she would process it in her own time, but what if she could know more about her? Would that help her healing? Would getting to know more about her bring a clarity that could provide closure? Could there be something—anything—documented about her grandmother being the Supreme in the library? Or even her own mother? Her death? Could that be registered here? After all, she hadn’t died in Mossgrave, that Emara knew. She had checked all of the documents in the village library endlessly for her name and there was nothing. Maybe she would find a registered marriage certificate detailing who her father was, or maybe a document that told her more about her ancestors. She wanted anything that could give her a true reflection of who she really was. Or even where to start searching for that.

Just a snippet…

Emara kicked off the heavy blanket and her toes touched base with the cold floor. Leaving the infirmary behind, she took off in search of the library.

It was chilly to walk around the tower without her full training gear on, especially at night. The cold, ancient stone formed intimidatingly long and winding corridors with fantom breezes that nipped at her skin. It wasn’t like her grandmother’s cosy home. Her home, with lower ceilings and burning fires. She hadn’t removed Gideon’s fleece from earlier because it warmed her core and arms so comfortably, keeping in a toasty heat.

Just as she turned the corridor’s final curved corner that led to the library doors, Emara’s heart had a sudden moment of weakness.

She halted her steps.

Did she really want to know everything? What if there was something that destroyed everything she knew to be true? What if what she found wasn’t what she hoped for? Was it better to remain in the dark about her family’s past? Was it all kept secret for a reason? Was she really in as much danger as Torin thought?

All the possibilities about who she was almost knocked her flat on her rear.

In the vision Melione had shown her at the markets, her mother and grandmother seemed to have different views on how a witch should live her life. Especially an important witch. One that laid claims to the supremacy title and had a direct line into being an empress of a coven seemed to have a lot of responsibility. An Empress of House Air couldn’t just live her own life without restrictions and reprimand. And Emara’s mother had paid the price for that.

She had also rebelled against it.

A prickling at her neck stood all hairs to attention. Like it had every time she had thought of the same thing. Did that mean, because she was a direct descendant of the Empress of Air and the Supreme, that she should have lived that kind of life, too? A life that her grandmother had lived for so long until she had gone into hiding?

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