Page 24 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Stop! He protested to himself internally as he entered the weapon room. He was about to go on a mission. He could not afford to be distracted at all, let alone be thinking about a girl. If his father knew he was distracted by a girl, he would nail him to the wall.

He pulled down his bow from the hanger and loaded arrows into a quiver that was strapped over his back. He hauled open the giant wooden drawer to an array of knife choices. Grabbing two throwing knives, a large dagger, and a small sword, he stacked them into his weapon belt and fastened the buckle around his midriff.

Weapons secured, he would let himself think of her when the mission was complete.

And if he couldn’t stop thinking about her...well, then he was in deep shit.

A while had passed as Emara lay on the bed, replaying what she could remember of the last couple of hours. The elixir was starting to wear off, her bones hardening again and her bruises pulsing. She brushed a hand over her wounded arm that was still wrapped in bandages.

The wound was going to leave a scar, that was for sure. Suddenly, she thought of Gideon. How many scars did he have?

Hunting, he had said. Did that mean Gideon was out hunting demons? Creatures that roamed in the dark?

Too many thoughts came to her at once.

What did they look like? Were they all like the one that attacked her home? Was he fighting alone? Was he scared? How long did a hunt take?

Worry twisted in her stomach. It wasn’t an occupation she had come across before, but she assumed it was his, given the fact that he had been part of her rescue mission. She wondered how close she had ever been to a Hunter before or if any of them stayed in Mossgrave.

Were Hunters hiding in plain sight?

Agitated, she sat up after tossing and turning over every thought possible.

All signs of the sunlight that had shone through the floor-to-ceiling window had now been chased away by the night’s shadows. The only light now in her room was an oil lamp. Emara didn’t dare look to see if the moon was in the sky. The Blood Moon must be only a few days away now and she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—everything was connected somehow.

She swept the mass of her dark hair ‘round one shoulder and constructed a messy braid that tumbled down her side. A rumble from her stomach reminded her that she had turned down all the food that Rhea had brought to her.

Instant regret flooded her.

She needed food and she needed it now.

It hadn’t occurred to her if she could just walk around the tower to find the kitchen. Did she have to wait on them to bring food to her? Was she confined to these four walls?

The setup of the tower confused her; she should have asked Gideon all these questions instead of wasting her time, semi-flirting, high off her face.

She sighed.

The tower wasn’t a prison, but she didn’t know if she could wander freely. Well, she would soon find out.

Her legs, stronger than before, carried her up from the bed and out of the room, taking a left as soon as she exited. The corridors were built up with grey brick, shadows cast up them by candlelight that flickered against the dark. The ceilings were high and the hallways long, with similar doors on each side. Every step she took outside the infirmary felt like she was doing something wrong.

I’m just down the corridor—to the left, Em. I love you.

As she made her way along the corridor, she arrived at a door that had “Callyn Greymore” marked in white chalk on black slate. She knocked once and opened the door.

A pleasured moan halted her steps.

Cally’s head arched back in rapture as dark hair kissed at her neck. Two bodies knotted together, her hand tangled in the man’s now-messy hair.

“Oh my—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know you would be…” she trailed off, her cheeks blooming red as the blood rushed to her face.

Torin Blacksteel’s sapphire gaze met hers as he looked up through his dark lashes. His smile was sensual for a moment before he moved to the side of her best friend. Emara shifted awkwardly, not knowing where to avert her eyes to.

Cally’s eyes widened with embarrassment, but she laughed and combed a hand through her hair. “Sorry, I—”

“I can leave. I was just—” Emara backed to the door, stumbling over a piece of clothing that lay on the ground. She kicked it off her bare foot and made a small gagging noise. She refused to look down to confirm what she’d stepped on, but she could hazard a solid guess.

She turned to leave.

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