Page 77 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

I am lucky that I am born the second male of the Blacksteel name, or I would have the same fate as Torin. Not being able to marry for love or desire, but for power and allegiance for the Clan.

The memory of Gideon’s words stirred up some unexpected feelings in her heart.

“Can I have a sip?” she asked assertively, holding out her hand. She had to admit, it was more of a command than a question. And it felt good.

His eyes moved to her quickly, and one eyebrow raised into an arch. He held out the bottle and a small tug pulled up at the corner of his mouth. “Is your halo finally falling off?” he asked, his face showing a snippet of colour. “Because I want to witness that.”

Emara noticed that, even when fully intoxicated, Torin Blacksteel still managed to sound seductively smooth.

“Not yet.” She took the bottle from his hands and drew a swig. “But I don’t think it’s far away from falling off.” The liquid burned in her throat as she coughed it down. Her grandmother would be cursing her out on the other side for drinking from the bottle. But when in Huntswood…

“Why are you not in bed?” His voice was husky as he studied the lights in the distance.

“Why are you not in bed?” she battled back.

His face was tortured by the thoughts in his own head. She winced at the sight of him. “Torin, what happened today?” she asked as she handed the bottle back to him.

“Hunter politics.” He drank another glug from the bottle. “Something you won’t understand.”

“Okay, give me the bottle back.” She took it from his hands, tipped it into her mouth, and drank the remainder of its contents. The cold didn’t seem so bitter against her skin after she forced down the burning liquid.

He looked at her through his dark lashes. “Since you just finished a bottle of my most expensive rum...” The expression on his face told her that he was more impressed in her abilities to down liquor than he would have liked to show. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

“Not even close.”

He let a slither of a smile form on his lips before it vanished. The wind lifted the ends of her hair and it landed on her shoulder. Torin’s eyes followed it as it rested on the curves of her chest like it had done something magical. As he stood up straight, angling his body towards her, his shirt blew further open, baring his soul to the city below them. An indescribable feeling made its way through her spine, warming her.

She ignored it.

“I went to my grandmother’s art gallery today,” she blurted out. Emara paused instantly, acknowledging that she was about to open a wound by taking out the stitches before it was fully healed.

Torin’s gaze lifted to her face. A twitch in his dark brows told her he was interested in hearing what she had to say.

“It’s true,” she croaked. “Everything. All of it.”

Torin’s face changed as he heard the crack in her voice.

“My grandmother”—she swallowed, finding it hard to breathe—“she belonged to the House of Air, and then she became the Supreme. I saw it in her paintings. She painted it all. Her Coven, her reign, my mother. Even me.” She held onto the railing a little tighter. “I have watched her paint since I can remember, never once knowing that she was painting a secret past or future.” She paused as she looked up. “Or my future.”

Torin looked more awake than he had a couple of minutes ago.

“It’s not the shock of her being magical that is unsettling. I always knew she was different. I guess, in a way, I always knew I was different, too. What’s unsettling to me is why she kept it all a secret. Why did she leave it all behind?”

“Sometimes we don’t get the answers we need to heal. Sometimes, we just need to pray that the Gods have a path for us, and we must trust it.”

She thought over what Torin said. Something pure and passionate lay amongst his words, but she detected a dash of resentment that anyone would pave his path but him. And that was something Emara could understand.

“I don’t even know a thing about magic,” she said, her breath swirling out into the air after her sigh. “I don’t even know if I can wield magic, and now that I have found out that it runs in my veins, I am curious about it. But I don’t have my grandmother here to guide me. Through any of it.” She looked down at her hands as she traced her palm with her thumb. “It’s killing me.”

Torin took the crystal bottle from her hands and placed it on the ground. “That’s not what’s going to kill you.” He stood straight, inching a little closer to her. “Your magic? It will break through when you need it most.” He placed one hand on her shoulder, and the weight of it felt heavy on her bones, but oddly comforting. “Trust me.”

He brushed her arm with his hand before he turned and walked away from her.

He was leaving…

Did she want him to? She couldn’t speak to Gideon or Cally about this yet, and she needed someone to unload all this too. He was her safe option. He was the one who had kept her secret until now.

Weirdly, she came to the realisation that she didn’t want him to leave. “I burned her gallery to the ground today.”

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