Page 44 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Shit! She was still in her Gods-damned towel. A towel that barely fit around her body. A towel that was slightly loose from embracing Gideon. Mortified didn’t cover it. But when she looked back up, Torin was gone from the doorway.

Tonight was certainly going to be interesting…

“We’re here,” Torin called as he jumped from the wagon with ease. Gideon followed, tapping the driver on the shoulder. The brothers had dressed down for the occasion, no longer sporting their combat gear.

Well, they may as well have; it wasn’t much different. Gideon was dressed in a deep burgundy shirt and leathers and Torin was in all black, his shirt long-sleeved. Although they didn’t wear their weapon belts, Emara assumed that they had some hidden steel stashed somewhere on their attire.

Out of sight, but not out of mind.

“You have no idea how excited I am to finally be here!” Cally grabbed Emara’s hand with a squeal. “I have heard about these markets since I was a little girl and I’ve tried to swindle my way into them since. But now I am here!”

Unlike the Blacksteels, she had dressed up for the occasion in a lilac dress that climbed right up her thigh and a pair of even higher shoes. She had painted her lips to match her accessories, and of course her hair was bouncy and gleaming on her shoulders.

“Just be careful,” Gideon warned. “Stay vigilant. Don’t buy anything without asking us and do not go into the back of any stalls, okay?”

Cally’s eyes glistened at the danger in Gideon’s words, and she turned her head to wink at Emara.

“I saw that, blondey,” Gideon scowled.

Emara chuckled.

“Relax, brother.” Torin struck Gideon over the back in a masculine embrace. “Learn how to be off duty,” he smiled.

“A hunter is never off duty, you know that.” Gideon shot him a dangerous look as they started to walk.

“Are you in the tower? No. Are you on duty to the clan tonight? Also no.” Torin strode forward. “Loosen up, Gid. Let’s show the girls what it’s like to have a good time in the markets.” Torin’s eyes were reflective of mischievous memories.

Oddly, his features were more relaxed than Emara had seen them, and he almost didn’t look menacing. Two men stood at the entrance of the gate; Emara assumed they were guards of the market’s admission, given the fact they were armed. They both looked at Torin and Gideon and allowed access immediately. Torin give a small nod and Gideon gestured a thank you.

“The girls are with us,” Torin advised as the guards parted and let everyone through.

“Do you always come to the markets when you are off duty?” Cally questioned both hunters, hands on her hips as she strutted down the path, past the entrance.

“Yes” and “No” came at once.

Emara laughed at the differences in their response, not having to guess who said what.

“Torin has more time to be off duty,” Gideon said with a diplomatic smile. “Being the second-in-command, he schedules it.”

“Don’t be jealous, little brother; someone needs to fill Viktir’s shoes one day. Just call it networking in the city,” Torin replied. “I am simply working the crowd out here, getting information on what’s happening in the magic world.”

“I don’t think that’s all you’re getting,” Gideon said under his breath, but it was loud enough for Emara to hear. “Networking is not drinking the market taverns dry of rum.”

Emara noticed the fun in Gideon’s tone as he spoke this time, but Torin only lifted one eyebrow, unfazed.

“Enough chit chat,” Torin commanded. “We are eating into happy hour.” He pushed power into his steps and walked ahead, into the belly of the Huntswood markets.

Emara’s eyes were wide as she viewed the bustling life of the markets. Stalls upon stalls of clothing, herbs, potions, weapons, and more were all lined up next to each other. The vibrant colours of the stalls were like nothing Emara had ever witnessed. Materials of silk, cotton, velvet, lace, and satin were displayed on hanging reels. Knives, swords, bows, and other death devices that she couldn’t place were stacked in rows, exhibiting their lethal power.

To one side, battle armour was being welded, and to the other, jars of unexplainable origin were stacked high. As she passed one stall, she could have sworn she saw what looked like a human eye floating in a pickling liquid.

All different herbs and spices swirled around the air of the market; stalls were cooking foods that she had never tasted before, smelling both sweet and savoury. Rows and rows of gorgeously handcrafted trinkets sat glistening as the sun reached the earth, its warm, dewy glow tinting the backdrop of the stalls. Shadows were starting to appear on the dusty ground, but it was light enough to see everything in its rawest glory.

Music from different tents drifted through the market like a summer bee. Some beats pounded, some were enchanting, some seeking and alluring—they could only be made by magic. There was no way an instrument could form those sounds.

Fluorescent light glowed in tubes of water that formed signs outside the taverns and tattoo parlours that should have seemed out of place, but they didn’t. Not here. Magic must have burned bright in the tubes in order for it to shine the way they did.

Masses of people crowded each stall in search for a unique item or literally just for the experience. Emara noticed the Hunters straight away, identifying them by their combat gear, weapon belts, and physiques. Although most of them were lingering near the weaponry stalls, in deep chats or testing out the merchandise.

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