Page 39 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Emara couldn’t respond. She couldn’t find the words. There were so many spinning around in her head. She looked to Gideon, whose eyes were still on Taymir.

“Did I not just tell you never to say her name again?” He pulled another arrow from his quiver and slid it into the bow, arching the thread—ready to release. “Or speak to her.” His nose wrinkled in anger. His scowl was deathly.

“Look, Hunter, I am sorry, okay?” Taymir cried as he backed up to the door quickly. “Emara, tell him to stop.”

Gideon released another arrow and it sunk right into Taymir’s shoulder. He let out another scream and Gideon lifted his jaw to assess his shot. “The next one goes straight through your heart, and don’t think that it won’t.” Gideon reloaded the bow and pulled back the string. “One, two…”

Taymir’s face was no longer smug. He let out a shout that was a mixture of frustration and pain.

Emara’s body jumped in response.

“You’re going to fucking pay for this, Blacksteel.” He looked at Emara, loathing where she stood. “And you.”

Taymir turned, struggling to open the door with one hand, and entered the porch with a limp. Looking over his arrow-penetrated shoulder, he shot a glance back at Emara, his teeth pulled back over his lips.

A spidering sensation crawled up her spine.

She placed a hand over her mouth as he heaved himself over the wooden railing and jumped from the banister.

Gideon lowered his bow and strung it over his back. He now palmed two fighting knives, thinking about what he had witnessed and wishing he could go after that man and end him. His blood raged through his veins, his temper still seething through his body from his head right through to his toes. Thank Thorin he had come into Mossgrave on the wagon with the other villagers to help gather their things. He had only wanted to check in on Emara, knowing that Cally had stayed behind at the tower. His eyes flickered to Emara’s; her face was hollow.

“Do you have everything you need?” he questioned, straining to keep the anger contained. Her eyes curved up at the side to showcase her long lashes as she looked back at him. One cheekbone was now swollen.

He tightened his grip on the knives.

She was still so beautiful.

“Even if I don’t have everything, get me out of here,” she said softly, looking down at the floor.

He closed the space between them carefully, taking his time, tucking the knives into his belt. Something about her face and how she looked at him made him want to end anyone who hurt her.

He had always been protective,—it was his duty—but he had never felt the urge to defend someone like he had with her. Something changed inside him when he saw her fighting the man off. Something instinctive…

“Look at me,” he said softly. Her jaw pushed up as she gathered the strength to look at someone in the eye. Their eyes met momentarily, before she averted them to her hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he protested quietly. “He should never have done that to you. Are you okay?” he asked.

She said nothing.

“I can go back down there and—”

“It’s fine.” She spoke without looking at him, cutting him off.

He took a breath. It wasn’t fine. It really, really wasn’t fine. “Emara, you did nothing wrong.” He paused. “Some people think they own the world because they have coin, but they don’t.”

“I know I did nothing wrong,” she said. Turning her back to him, she put a few items into her case and fastened it shut. “He doesn’t own me.”

He shifted on his feet. “You don’t ever have to feel fear when you are with me—us” he added. Us. The Hunters, he assured himself. Gideon walked around to her side and placed a hand over hers. She didn’t look up. “I promise you, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She let out a sigh, allowing her body to relax a little more as she looked out at the wooden terrace. “I’m not scared, I just want to get out of here,” her voice was faint, but she spoke with certainty.

All Gideon wanted to do was cradle her in his arms. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But he was on duty and affection was not one of a hunter’s dispositions.

He removed his hand from hers as he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

She didn’t move as if frozen there.

He placed a hand in the middle of her back and gently guided her towards the door. She followed, case in hand, sniffing back her tears. He watched as one single tear rolled down her cheek.

In that moment, he didn’t care that he was on duty; he could feel human instincts and act on them without feeling guilty about it. Even the Gods had some humanity.

---