Page 100 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Her lips pulled back into a smile and Gideon’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of her. He was sure his heart missed a beat. Even though she looked like she hadn’t slept in days with dark lavender circles around her eyes and her hair in a messy braid, trailing down the side of her neck to below her breast—she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

“You are the second person that has referred to me as an angel.” She half-laughed and pushed her lips together.

“Well, the first person was not wrong.” He winced trying to move. “Although I wish I had been the first to say it.” He tried to lick his lips, his mouth like dry sand. He needed water.

“Don’t bother trying to move,” a harsh, deep voice sounded through the infirmary room. One he knew extremely well—his older brother. “You need to remain as still as possible until the white oak ash has completely absorbed into your wound.”

Gideon trailed his eyes along to his shoulder and down to his arm. No demon blade remained, thank the Gods. White ash and congealed blood took its place; an ancient healing poultice that combated poison.

He looked over to where Torin stood. He, too, looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was uncharacteristically dishevelled. If Gideon had been fit enough to make a verbal jab about how messy his brother’s hair was, he would have.

Instead, he braced himself to ask Torin the dreaded question. “How many?”

“Five Hunters and a wolf.” Torin’s voice was firm.

We got lucky. The Gods had been on their side.

“Names?” He stared at the ceiling awaiting to hear the names of those who had fallen in the Blood Moon battle.

Torin ran through the names of the Hunters who had lost their lives. Leime Oxhound, one of their brethren, had been in the same Selection as Gideon. He was a good Hunter, but his family’s Clan wasn’t big enough to sustain Huntership on their own, so they joined the Blacksteel clan. Soule Leatherback was a year older than Torin and came from one of the biggest Clans in the kingdom; however, he had just married a Witch from the House of Earth—Rhea, his favourite healer.

He sent a prayer up to the Gods to protect Rhea from the pain she must be feeling.

“And the wolf?” he said. Praying it wasn’t Breighly—or any Baxgroll, for that matter.

Torin sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Eli Baxgroll.”

Gideon swore out loud. Shock replaced the feeling of dread as the name of the dead wolf was announced. Eli Baxgroll was Breighly’s older brother. In order, Murk Baxgroll’s children were Waylen (who was destined to become alpha), Eli (who was next in line if anything ever happened to Waylen), Roman (who was Breighly’s twin brother), and then Breighly herself.

The weight of Eli’s death sunk into his chest. He knew that the wolves would have a send-off for their fallen pack member as soon as the moon lit the sky. It would be a devastating blow to lose Eli. It could be something they might never recover from as a pack. Gideon knew they were all physically and mentally tough, but the way the pack loved their own was second to none.

Unconditionally and immensely.

“Has the send-off happened?” he questioned.

“It will take place tonight,” Torin confirmed. “Father and I will go to pay our respects to the pack and watch the body set sail down the River of Vanadey.” Torin’s choice of words let Gideon know there was no chance of him being well enough to go. “Breighly will be fine,” Torin finished. “She’s tough.”

Gideon already knew that, but he just wished he could be there for her.

Emara’s voice sounded through the room. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” was all Gideon could manage to say.

“I will leave you two alone,” Emara said. “Torin, let me know when you’re finished and I will come back and sit with him.”

“No problem, angel,” Torin mocked.

She flung a look over her shoulder that caught Gideon’s breath and she let a warm smile lift into her tired eyes and left, ignoring Torin. Clearly, she was exhausted, or she would have bit back.

As he heard the door shut, a moment passed between the two of them, both Torin and Gideon not knowing where to start in their conversation.

“Gideon, I—”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Gideon cut in. “I would have done the same.”

A large breath escaped Torin. “No, you wouldn’t have.” He looked down at his hands. A peculiar expression spanned across his face. One that Gideon didn’t see too often. “You would have pulled back. You wouldn’t have let your pride get in the way of your intellect.”

Gideon wished he had the strength to laugh.

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