Page 87 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

The Ashdale Forest was deathly quiet as the Hunters worked their way from their base point to their end point, meeting the Shifters at a plain of field suggested by Murk. The only light that was provided through the trees was by the moon herself. An orange-red glow broke through the branches, casting a haunting light over the Clan’s faces as they moved as one unit in silence.

Gideon praised the blood that ran through his veins that allowed him to have excellent vision, even in the dark.

Torin came to a standstill at the front of the formation, flanked by Marcus and his father on the other side. A few of the Clan had spread out on an eastern and western circumference, walking sideways to ensure nothing could attack from the side. Kellen had been positioned in the middle of the formation to allow him time to ease into the fight should there be an outbreak of violence.

And there would be.

The other men scattered in between the structure to deepen the protection. Gideon patrolled the back end of the formation, paying close attention to the tail of the Clan and the trees above. They would show themselves one way or another, he just didn’t know where or when.

Torin’s hand flew up to indicate that the full unit was to cease. Gideon’s knees locked in as he braced himself into a fighting position. His bow was already itching to be released. His brother raised one finger which meant Viktir and Marcus were to ready themselves. Bending their legs, they both slid into a position that Gideon had held more times than he could count—a battle stance. He made sure to keep himself alert, even if Torin’s signal had turned his stomach into a butter churner.

Gideon’s eyes scanned the trees above the Clan. A rustle came from a giant buckthorn bush out in front. Gideon’s finger hooked even tighter around the string, his arm pulled back, ready for his arrow to penetrate through flesh.

Dirty blonde hair glistened in the moonlight as a female emerged from the bush.

“Breighly Baxgroll,” Viktir gasped as she moved forward and pulled herself up straight. “We could have killed you. What are you doing out here?” His eyes narrowed in on her face.

She glanced over the Clan, her face unreadable. “I have come here tonight to ask that you let me fight alongside you.” Her pale blue eyes pleaded with the Commander. “I want you to let me fight with you. I can fight, Commander Blacksteel.” She didn’t break his gaze. “Murk wouldn’t agree that I fight alongside them, so I thought I would come to you. You are the Commander of this hunt.”

“Murk is your father, the Alpha, and he should be addressed as such.” The words lingered in the dark air of the forest. “What he says, goes,” Viktir snapped. “You should not be out here.”

“With all due respect, Commander Blacksteel, these are my woods just as much as they are his. I know them like the back of my hand. Let me protect them.” Her eyes glittered with a security that one didn’t always find in a young woman of her age. “My father shouldn’t be the one deciding if I can fight. I should be the one to make that decision.” Her eyes darted over the Clan. A wealth of passion lingered on her face and Gideon smiled as his father shut his mouth into a pruned line. “You could reason with him on my behalf.”

“We are on our way to meet him now.” Her eyes met Gideon’s as he spoke. “As I am sure you are more than aware.”

The love that used to shine in her wolf-like eyes for him was gone. She didn’t respond as she trailed her eyes along his face. Giving him a slight nod in thanks, she turned her gaze back to the Commander.

“We can’t stand here wasting time, Viktir; we are sitting ducks,” Marcus stressed.

Viktir threw a look to Torin as if to say, ‘Your call, make the decision.’

Torin had been leading most of the hunts since Viktir had aged. Not that his father couldn’t handle the fight of the hunt, because he could, but as a right of passage for Torin who would one day be the Commander of the Blacksteel Clan. If he made any mistake, his father wanted that to be on his head to learn the importance of leadership. Or the harsh unpleasantries that came with being in charge. Like making split second decisions that could end a Clan member’s life or destroy an alliance. He had to learn the ropes of Hunter politics.

“There’s no way a girl can fight with the Clan,” a Hunter from the mid-section piped up.

“How much coin would you like to bet on that, Hunter?” Breighly pinned him with a brown-gold stare.

“Make the call, Torin,” Viktir nipped.

If Torin didn’t allow her to fight with them, she would have to make her way back to her home—alone—in a forest filled with the Darkened.

“Get to the back.” Torin lowered his voice. “Let’s see what the Alpha has to say about this.”

She stepped forward with confidence. Her shoulder-length hair was already pulled back for the fight. She had come ready, Gideon realised, like there was no way she was leaving here without getting her way. As she slipped to the back of the formation, she mouthed “Hi” to Gideon and took a place beside him.

“You’re crazy,” he lowered his voice enough for only Breighly to hear. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“You’re crazy to think I shouldn’t be here.”

“I think the pack would be enough without adding their princess into the hunt,” Gideon teased.

“Princess,” she scoffed. “Do you think a princess would have claws like mine?” Her eyes danced with a confidence that told him she knew how dangerous she could be. “Trust me, you need me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Gideon shot her a confused look.

“If I can put you on your ass”—she smiled mockingly—“so can any demon.”

She crouched a little lower as they walked through the forest. Torin had commanded to start the unit moving before Gideon spoke. “You haven’t fought me since I was fifteen years old,” he fired back. “A lot has changed.”

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