Page 41 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Looking at her hand, she studied the mark it had left. It had burned her.

She kissed the mark better like a mother would kiss a child’s wound for comfort and picked it back up. It was a strange little thing, and again, it burned the two fingers she held it in. It didn’t feel hot to touch, but the longer it touched her skin, the more it singed.

A knock on her door startled her, causing her to stand. Quickly, she put the stone back into the broken box and shoved it under the clothes in her case. She ran over to the door, feeling her damp hair caress her back, and opened it up.

“Freshly-squeezed orange juice, as requested.” Gideon stood in all black, holding a jug of pure orange. His smile was infectious, and it slipped onto her face too, knocking the false one off. As the muscles in her face moved, an ache on her cheekbone and lip niggled, reminding her of the slap Taymir had delivered.

She flinched.

The curve of his jaw tightened as he looked at her and she knew instantly that he was checking her all over for injuries, which ultimately made her feel like a fourteen-year-old girl. Heat rushed to her face, causing her to avert her eyes from his.

“I can see we are back in the towel dress.” He offered her a polite smile and she looked down before her cheeks turned scarlet. “I am not complaining.” He raised an eyebrow that met his brown hair. “I just didn’t expect you to be wearing that as I delivered your request. I thought you wore hunting attire now.” A subtle laugh escaped his lips.

She ignored the fact he highlighted her towel dress. “I didn’t think you would remember my request after a long, hard training session with the clan.” She managed a small smile back. “That’s what you call each other, right? The clan?” She gestured for Gideon to enter the room, trying to distract him from the redness in her cheeks.

If she hadn’t been so distracted with that stone, she would have had clothes on by now. He laughed as he lazily entered the room. He placed the jug on the table beside the door and put down the two glasses. One for him, she noticed. He planned to stay long enough to have a drink.

Was he worried about her?

He lifted the jug and poured, still managing to look at her without spilling a single drop. “That is what we call each other sometimes.” He extended his arm and held out a glass full of orange juice. She walked over to him, moving her hair that lay irritatingly around her neck, flipping it over her shoulder as she reached out for it.

“Thank you for bringing it to me.” Even though it was something as little as juice, she appreciated it. He didn’t have to do that.

“It was no problem at all,” Gideon said.

“My grandmother always used to make orange juice,” she admitted as she sipped it.

Gideon was in relaxed training gear. Loose bottoms and a tight, black tunic. With this look, he could have passed as a normal human if he wasn’t tiered with rope-like muscle underneath his clothing. She swallowed, suddenly finding it a little bit warmer in the room than before.

“Getting unpacked, I see.” He gestured to the messy case, lying sprawled out on her bed.

Embarrassed, she walked over and flipped the lid closed. “Not quite unpacked,” she said before sipping on more of her juice to hide behind the glass. “I don’t know how long I will be here.”

“You can stay for as long as you need to.”

“Thank you” she muttered, knowing that she had no other plan to go elsewhere yet.

“So, a little birdy has informed me that Cally has somehow talked my brother into taking her to the Huntswood markets for seamstress supplies.” He raised his eyebrow. “She’s starting over, apparently.”

“Of course she has.” Emara found her lips twitching upwards. It would be Cally’s dream come true to start a fresh life, buying everything from the city with her coin. “Even us village girls down in Mossgrave know about the markets in Huntswood.” She mirrored his eyebrow raise. “They are a hot topic there amongst the younger generation. And a scandal to the elders.”

He laughed, taking a sip of juice. “I think they are famous throughout the kingdom of Caledorna.”

“I would probably use the term infamous…” she replied.

“Well, in that case, if you, too, are planning to go to the infamous Huntswood city markets”—he paused, placing the glass on the unit he stood against—“I can escort you. I don’t want you going down there with just them.”

His unsaid words were heard loud and clear. Going down there without protection was reckless.

Dangerous.

Her heartbeat quickened.

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need a bodyguard. I am fine.”

“I am not referring to that. The truth is, I think you could use a break—a distraction—and the markets can be fun. But they are also dangerous. You can get anything you want there and that’s not always a good thing. All sorts roam the markets in search for things you can’t buy locally. From knives to exotic animals to illegal substances.”

Emara’s ears perked. Her thoughts turned to the hidden stone in her box. If there was anywhere in the world that she could find out peculiar information, it was the Huntswood markets.

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