Page 79 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

He gave a gracious nod. “Gideon’s tied up with my father. Even though all the general defence sessions are cancelled, he advised me that you would still be looking to train.” His face held an impressed stare, like he had never known a girl who wanted to train. “You can join me if you like?”

Something about his demeanour was different from his brother’s, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe he didn’t have the same confidence that the other Blacksteels did. Or maybe he was nervous for the up-and-coming hunt.

The Blood Moon would reach its full power tonight, meaning the hunt for the Dark Army was on. She had overheard Marcus talking yesterday, in the dining hall, that the Clan would be hunting tonight. It was their duty to make sure they ended the demons before they could spill any human blood.

A shudder ran through Emara’s spine at the thought of the demons ploughing their way through more cities or villages. Villages like the one she had once stayed in—helpless, defenceless, and oblivious. She wondered how many more innocent lives would be lost tonight if the Clan didn’t hunt them and kill the demons.

“I will join you.” She motioned towards Kellen. “I don’t mind doing my own thing, though; I know you will probably have something planned out and I am not sure I could keep up.”

“It’s cool. You will be able to do my session. Marcus usually trains me, but he is currently looking at the plan of action for tonight. Re-evaluating something, I guess.” He held up a set of silver keys and dangled them in front of her. Kellen positioned himself in front of the door, opening it, and led the way in.

“I saw you training with Torin,” Emara sparked some conversation with Kellen, wishing she could have avoided using Torin as an accessory in their common ground.

“Yeah, he’s the toughest trainer we have. He doesn’t allow weakness in the training room.” Kellen forced a smile. “What can I expect? He was trained by Viktir Blacksteel, after all.”

Viktir, not Father. Avoiding the parental terms, Emara noticed. Perhaps it was because his father had shipped his mother off now that he was a fully-fledged Hunter. Surely, the boys felt the adversities of that?

“I can’t imagine what that would be like,” she added gently. “Being trained by the Commander himself.”

There was a true kindness in Kellen’s face when he returned a soulful smile, but something else lingered behind his eyes. Immediately, Emara felt a pull on her heart. Kellen was different. He operated differently than his brothers. He couldn’t mask his emotions the same way Torin or Gideon could, and his energy was different, radiating a softness that she hadn’t seen in the others. Emara knew that Kellen’s training would have determined him a lethal solider, to have been successful in Selection—he was a weapon to cause destruction and death—but his true soul still shone through.

Emara blinked as she watched Kellen set up his equipment, laying out weapons. Her eyes twisted as she followed him along the mats. A thin, white glow lifted from his being; a translucent aura that gleamed from his body. She scrunched her eyes shut and reopened them. The aura still leaked out around Kellen.

What in the underworld?

She blinked a few more times, rubbing at her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Kellen looked over at her with one eye of turquoise seas and the other of forest green moss. His eyes represented where the great oceans and land fused together.

She realised, awkwardly, that she had been staring at him. Fully gawking, but she couldn’t shift the glow that filmed her eyes.

“I am fine,” she lied, slightly embarrassed about being caught. “I am just a little all over the place.”

“Okay.” He laughed gently before proceeding on with his set up. “I am working on weights too. I saw you using a ten-kilo weight the other day…” Kellen lifted a heavier weight from the floor—it doubled hers. “You can start there, or you can start with a run.”

“I think I will start with the weights.”

“Good. I will move on to weaponry after weights and a spear, but I suppose you could pick up some agility training.”

The word wield made her think of the magic that could, unknowingly, run through her veins. She thought of her own mother wielding fire from her palms. Her grandmother wielding the gift of air and water.

Magic wielders.

She shuddered.

As they got started, he instructed her in a warm-up that made each muscle want to remove itself from her body.

It was agonising.

And this was only the warm-up.

She would bathe later and soak each muscle in a roasting pool of rose buds and lavender oil as an apology.

After he was done with the weights, Kellen showed great ability to manipulate the spear around his hands. His feet were always fast and his jabs even faster. She couldn’t help but watch him as he took off on his own path around the mats, his pretend opponents hanging weight bags. Opponents, that—come nightfall—would be raised from the depths of the underworld.

She followed him, studying his movements, and then replicating them on her own weight bag. Punching and kicking, without the spear. As his body moved, she swore she saw a blurring sensation pull away from his body like a soul is supposed to leave you in death.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand.

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