Page 40 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

He stopped and turned to face her. Slowly, he pulled her into his chest with one hand and embraced her with the other. She let him welcome her as she wrapped her arms around his back, leaning her head against his chest. He didn’t really know how to handle the tears of a girl, but like the last time, he was willing to try. “Please, don’t be upset. He doesn’t deserve your tears for one second.”

She pulled back after a few flashes of blissful silence between them, her shadowy, long hair curtaining her shoulders. “My tears are not for him, but for this moment.”

Gideon understood. She was saying goodbye to her old life. A life which she could no longer safely live. The bump on her face was starting to take further colour and he forced himself to take the first step away. “Your eyes have changed colour,” Gideon realised.

“I know, they do it all the time,” she replied, looking at her case. “I can’t help it.”

Gideon had an awful feeling that she wanted to shield them away. They were so stunningly rare that she probably felt ashamed of them. But she shouldn’t. Her eyes watered and she wiped the single tear that broke away.

“Let’s get back to the tower,” he said firmly, and she nodded sheepishly. “I can get that for you.” He tried to take her case.

“I have got it,” she said sharply and walked out the room.

Gideon watched as Emara walked away from her home with another darkened memory of it. He hoped he would see Taymir Solden again, and he prayed to the God Thorin that he would see him soon.

The journey to the tower had been a silent one. He watched as she unloaded her case from the wagon and proceeded through the gardens without her cloak, her midnight hair wafting behind her as the ice-cold wind tore at it. Admirably, she didn’t shiver; keeping her back straight, she continued through the cutting wind, her thoughts elsewhere. Gideon shook off the cold as he followed her up the path, staying one step behind her.

Marcus, who had clearly been on guard duty, swung open the door to the foyer, his eyes warm with welcoming. “Welcome back. You have a combat session with the clan in half an hour. No weapons,” he advised Gideon, keeping the door open for the other returning villagers who were making their way through the gardens.

Gideon bowed his head in acknowledgement and mouthed, “See you there.” He would fill Marcus in about what had happened back at Emara’s home when they were in the training room and he took a mental note to brief his father, too.

As he walked with Emara to her room, fearing that she might fall apart any second, he calmed himself from wanting to kill Taymir. Dumping her case as she walked in the door, she went straight over to the window. Her arm wrapped around her waist, the other arm rested on top, as her hand came up close to her mouth. The thoughts in her head troubled her face as she sifted through them, chewing on a nail.

It didn’t take a genius to presume what she was thinking about. Thank the Gods above it had been him who found her and not Torin, or the Hunters would have found themselves in a civil war with the elite humans for slaughtering an heir to one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom. And every faction of the prime knew wealth meant power. However, there was no doubt about it that Torin would have ripped Taymir limb from limb for what he had done. He would have parcelled up his remains and sent them back to his family with a smile on his face and Gideon would now be prepping for a war against the mortal men. The Hunters couldn’t afford to war against the elite—they paid them handsomely for their protection—but they wouldn’t take their bullshit, either.

Of course, Gideon had known who Taymir Solden was when he had seen him—an old money elite that produced earthy materials never went unnoticed. Old money went a long way in Huntswood, and having an elite as an alliance certainly could help with a thing or two. Especially if they were tied to the Minister of Coin.

Gideon had heard rumours of Brahmon Solden (Taymir’s father) paying Hunting Clans in the east a pretty coin to wipe out a rival diamond mine family. And some Hunters would do it for a bit of coin without blinking an eyelid. It wasn’t unheard of for Hunters to do dirty work for the elite. He just hadn’t expected to find a Solden in Emara’s room…forcing himself on her.

He focused through the anger as it started to peak again.

Were they together? Had they just broken up? Is that why Taymir had gotten so angry?

The questions that ran through his head didn’t matter now. Taymir wouldn’t be bothering Emara again if he had any sense.

“I will come back later,” he said softly to her. “To make sure you’re okay. But right now, I have got to go to the training room. Is there anything I can do before I go?”

She shook her head once, her eyes not meeting his. He turned, taking his cue to leave, wishing he had something else to say to her.

“Gideon,” Emara was quick with his name on her lips. It sounded so sweet. “In fact, I do. When you return, can you bring some of the fresh orange juice from lunch?”

He let out a barking laugh, not really expecting her to say that. “Sure, anything you want.”

Emara walked towards the brown leather case that she had filled with things she couldn’t even remember. She had avoided opening it for about an hour. Its contents represented her bedroom which was now tainted with unpleasant memories that had been turning over and over in her mind. After Gideon left, she had headed to the bathing chamber to scrub off the recollections of her bedroom, letting the roasting hot bath melt away this afternoon’s happenings.

After getting out of the tub, she had stood in the room, staring at the case that held her belongings as the cool air cupped her skin. Unbuttoning the case with one hand, holding the towel she wore with the other, she pulled out some clothing items that she could relax in before the sparkle of her encrusted box caught her eye.

As Emara lifted the box, she noticed that the drop to the floor had damaged the lid. Lowering herself onto the bed, she pondered how she could fix it. Examining the hinges, she brushed her fingertips along the inside of the lid. It wobbled from the inside.

What was that?

The wood from the top of the lid was broken, dented inwards. Great! Holding up the box, she pushed the lid with her finger, forcing one end to cave in and the other to pop out at the side. She heard a sliding noise and a smallish stone fell into her lap.

What in the Gods’ name was that?

Picking up the unusual stone, she held it in her palm. The light from the window frolicked around the precious stone, sending out glistening lights of turquoise, lime, and violet. She could feel the supremacy of it burning into her palm and she dropped it.

“What is that?” she hissed to herself.

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