Page 122 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

After all, the wolf did say she owed her one.

It was the night of the annual Winter Solstice Ball, and that meant the hunters were on high alert. And it also meant that Gideon Blacksteel had to be more vigilant than ever. He was guard to the Empress of House Earth, and it was an honour to be in the position of protecting her life. Big events like this weren’t faring well for witches these days, and he wouldn’t be the one to falter if anything did go wrong. Although it was a formal ball that the majority of the magic community would be attending, Gideon was in full guard regalia.

He was off duty, but it didn’t feel right to be.

So he had insisted on wearing his guard uniform. It would keep him focused and remind him why he was here. Unlike the last major event where he was upstairs kissing instead of helping his clan slaughter the beasts that had murdered so many innocent people. It was a hard potion to swallow that he had let his focus stray that night; it had haunted him every single night since.

He didn’t blame Emara for it—he couldn’t. He blamed himself. If he had been in the Uplift Hall instead of courting a girl that was never really his to begin with, maybe he could have saved more people. The Uplift wasn’t just a reminder of the witches’ slaughtering, but a stark reminder that Emara was promised to Torin.

It was a reminder that the girl he had so quickly fallen in love with was promised to his brother. That familiar, dull ache in his chest reared its ugly head again. He had seen them recently, the exchanges of their glances and how close he stood to her. Emara’s laugh when she spoke to Torin, the whispers, the jokes, the touches…

His brother’s words at the ascension as he drove his sword into the earth, promising to protect her soul after his bones turned to dust.

It was his own version of the Underworld, without the demons.

A knock came from the inside of the door he stood outside. His brow furrowed. That was strange.

A small voice spoke through the dark oak door. “Um, is one of my guards out there?”

Sybil’s voice shook in a strange way that made Gideon stand to attention.

He took a few strides over. “Is everything okay in there?” He pressed his head against the wood of the door, listening to see if he should be worried or act on instinct. His hand went to the small hunting knife he carried on his weapon belt. “It’s Gideon. Are you all right?”

“Everything is okay.” Her pleasant voice rang through him. “But I have made a very silly mistake. It’s quite embarrassing, actually.”

“What have you done?” He laughed, one hand pressed against the door.

“You see”—Gideon heard Sybil’s head fall against the door.—“I have allowed my maids to go and prepare themselves for the ball, underestimating the weight of the gown I must dress in. I picked one with intricate fastenings on its back, and I will never get it on alone. I fear I have overestimated myself after all that training you’ve had me do.”

Gideon’s trained heartbeat skipped a little, and a smile broached his lips. “I cannot leave my post to fetch your maids, Sybil.” He spoke in true hunter fashion, firm and assertive. Or so he thought. “It would require me to leave you alone, and none of the other guards are around to relieve me yet.”

A moment passed. “I wasn’t going to ask you to go and get the girls.” Her small voice floated through the door and touched his chest. He pictured the look in her large eyes as she stood against the door, mirroring him.

He swallowed.

“And then what would you have me do?” He leaned against the door.

All too quickly, the lock clicked, and the wooden door fell away. He stumbled a little, humiliation flushing on his face.

He straightened, pulling down his tunic.

Gods of the world unite! Solid oak doors were going to be the death of him.

Sybil appeared around the door in what seemed like a loose robe. Her hair still sat wildly untamed on her shoulders, the vibrant red curls spiralling out in all directions.

“I am sorry to ask you to do this, Gideon, but you did take an oath to protect me, and right now, I need to be protected from myself. Trying to get those fastenings at the back of my dress without any help has snapped every imaginable string of patience I had left.” She huffed, her brow creasing, and Gideon found himself chuckling.

She opened the door wider, inviting him to come in.

Helping her into her dress wasn’t exactly on a guard’s list of duties, but he had grown to like Sybil. She had such a gentleness about her. Even when she would awake in the woods on the journey here, with screams in her throat from the memories of her sister’s death, she would apologise to him or the other guards.

Stepping into the room and shutting the door behind himself, he said, “I don’t know how much help I will be, but I am happy to aid an empress in need.” He let a smile warm his face.

“Thank the souls on the Otherside it was you and not Marcus on the door.” Sybil laughed, all too alluringly. “His face would have been a picture worth painting.” Gideon agreed and Sybil turned, walking over to the gown that lay on the floor. Her head snapped up. “Okay. This is the tricky part.”

Gideon placed his hands behind his back, a reminder that everything that was happening in this room was just a professional aid. “I am listening. I will take your lead on whatever you need me to do.”

She hesitated. “So I am sort of naked under this robe.” Her face beamed red, and her large eyes found the floor. “But I also need to come out of the robe without you seeing me…naked. And get into the dress.”

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