Page 26 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Rolling her eyes, she considered that they were vastly different people. And they would deal with what had happened differently. Heal in their own ways. Plus, she didn’t have the strength to lecture Cally for the nine millionth time on who she slept with. She always did as she pleased, anyway, so Emara opted for a change in conversation.

“Please tell me you kept some food in here; I am starving,” Emara practically begged, looking around.

Cally hopped from the bed, dragging the covers with her, and returned with a tray of sandwiches, cakes, and pastries that had been sitting on a table in the corner. Emara’s mouth watered. They smelled divine.

They both tucked into the tray of treats, Cally chatting and Emara listening. It was almost a normal night for them. Cally stopped for breath now and then and to make sure that Emara was okay; it was comforting to know that Callyn brought some normality to an incomprehensible time. She was thankful to the Gods to have her.

After talking and eating for an hour or more, exhaustion overtook them both and they snuggled into the same bed. Emara was grateful that whenever she was pulled from the nightmares of her sleep, Cally lay beside her.

Emara had been woken out of her slumber by one of the infirmary maids who brought fresh clothes, towels, and bed sheets. She blinked one eye open to watch as the maid offered her a smile.

“Please read the note left by the towels” the maid stated timidly before leaving.

Cally, who had clearly been awake, rolled out of bed, walked over to where the note had been left, and brought it over to Emara. “You read it,” she said.

“Have you gone blind?” She stole the note from Cally’s hands and proceeded to read aloud, “‘Dress in the clothes provided. Be at the sparring room in the east wing after breakfast. Eat light. –Viktir Blacksteel.’”

“Are we missing something?” Cally grabbed the card from Emara’s hand and read it to herself, looking totally confused.

“Eat light? Sparring room? Sounds ominous.” Emara’s forehead creased.

“If it involves anything endangering my face, I am out,” Cally said, sashaying her way over to where the maid had laid out the towels and clothes. She held up the black, skin-tight clothes bearing the label “combat gear.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Combat gear? They expect me to dress in combat gear?” Cally’s voice squeaked. “What is this? A war camp? Do I look like I wear leggings?”

“Well, I guess you do today,” Emara laughed, getting out of bed. “Gideon said the commander would want to speak to us at some point. So, let’s go and get it over with. And wear the Gods-damned leggings.”

Cally let out an over-exaggerated scoff and strode to her bathing chamber.

After breakfast, they strolled along to the east wing of the tower to find the sparring room. Emara was dressed in a pair of long, tight bottoms that stopped just shy of her ankles, and a black, long-sleeved top that clung to her curves. She had taken out her messy braid and tied her long hair into a swishing ponytail. Cally looked incredible with her hair pulled into a gracious bun that sat tightly at the top of her head. She was dressed in a black shirt that fit tightly that she had crafted with a pair of infirmary scissors to have a little fringing at the bottom, and leggings which she had, of course, cut shorter.

It was impressive what she could do in half an hour with a pair of scissors.

Walking into a massive gymnasium, Emara noticed it was well-lit, considering it didn’t have windows. Panelled bars of metal that could be used for climbing framed the bottom section of the space. She also noticed them above her, too; tilting her head back, she could see the ropes that dangled from the ceiling. She noticed a small brass bell at the top and wondered how people actually reached it.

All of the hunters, probably.

Weights were neatly stacked at one side of the room. Weights that Emara knew she would never in her wildest dreams be able to lift. Canvases of art were plastered around the walls like a form of motivation, the paintings showing warriors and battles.

Gods against monsters. Good versus evil.

She looked around the room, searching for familiar faces that would assure her that the families of Mossgrave were safe, and she saw a few.

Her heart lifted a notch.

She might also have been looking for Gideon, too. She hadn’t seen him since he left her room in a hurry last night and she wanted to apologise for how spaced out she had been.

Cally flashed a flirtatious smile across the room and Emara turned her head to find Torin standing in similar clothes to what he had worn last night, but a little more relaxed. He met her gaze and she averted her eyes quickly to avoid any awkward glances.

After all, he was intimidatingly attractive.

The kind of attractive that made your cheeks gush red after two seconds of eye contact. But he knew it, and that annoyed her.

Looking away, she studied the people in the room; it was a mixing pot of age, height, and gender. Although she could tell straight away which of them were the hunters and which were ordinary villagers. She didn’t stop exploring the room, looking out for—

“He’s not here yet,” a deep voice spoke from behind her. She turned as Torin offered her a mocking grin. She folded one arm across her chest, ready to say something snarky, when Cally cut in before her.

“Hey, you,” she said, trying to compose her face so as not to reveal how much she was smiling on the inside at Torin being here.

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