Page 129 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

Breighly offered Emara a kinder smile than the usual sarcastic and cutting one. “Get that robe off and that underwear on. We are all friends here.” She laughed, looking down. “It’s not like I am wearing much more, anyway.”

When her gaze resurfaced, the witch’s unusual eyes were on her again, bright and bold. “I have a feeling you are going to be a good friend to have, Breighly Baxgroll.” Emara smiled as she grabbed the box and disappeared through the arch that led to another part of her chamber.

An unusual feeling snaked up Breighly’s organs and into her stone-cold heart. It was warm and…dare she say, it felt nice. She had never really had a friend that was a girl before. She had always been stuck around hunters and men. The human girls that lived in the Ashdale forest never did like to hang out with a wolf.

But Breighly had a feeling that the Empress of Air was different.

Very different, indeed.

Torin stood in his guard regalia with his weapon belt around his hips. He was not required to be on guard duty tonight, but he would be, just like his brethren. To restore the magic community’s faith in the Gods, it was crucial that tonight went well. The factions needed it. Already in the grand ballroom, all sorts of species were wishing him well, as the winter solstice moon drew her powerful glow in the night’s sky. She wasn’t full, but she was beautifully curved in her waning phase. The soft enchanting music lingered through the crowd, and everyone seemed to be forgetting that the magic community was under attack, which was what this ball was about.

But Torin wasn’t able to forget that easily.

Canapes of skewered beef and winter vegetables floated through the room by enchantment and expensive champagne bottles could be heard popping every few minutes. Hanging wreaths dangled from above, and shining glass baubles of gold, red and green were heavy on a giant tree that took centre stage in the middle of the room. A scent of baked cranberry and mulled wine lingered everywhere in the space, and a litter of candles warmed it, creating a glowing ambiance.

It was the longest day of the year. And it felt like it.

Maybe it had a lot to do with not being able to see Emara much today. Or the day before that.

And maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had been carrying around his mother’s precious ring in his tunic pocket.

A tiny flutter began to take flight in his stomach.

He shut it down.

He was a warrior; he didn’t get nervous. He took those nerves and turned them into steel. He straightened out his tunic and rolled his neck, shoulders back. The sound of the ballroom door opening caught his attention for the fortieth time. His neck craned forward to see past the gathering guests, but it wasn’t her.

Where in the underworld was she? Why was she taking so damn long to come down and greet everyone? Was something wrong? Did something happen?

If Artem Stryker had let anything happen to her, the God of Sun and War himself would need to awake from his ancient slumber on the Otherside and restrain him. It would be the only thing that could stop Torin from killing him.

He looked to Magin and Marcus, idly chatting with Gideon and Sybil, who seemed to be fitting into her empress role nicely. Regrettably, that thought reminded him of his aim to catch his brother at some point tonight and chat through his intentions with Emara Clearwater, however uncomfortable that would be.

He had never had intentions for a woman before. Well, none of which had involved that little box burning a hole in his tunic pocket. However, the conversation between them both was a long time coming, and they hadn’t exactly sorted things out between them since the night in his mother’s cottage.

Could you lie next to her for the rest of your life, and give her your whole heart? Because I can.

Gideon’s question had gone unanswered then, but now it wasn’t, not in his mind or his heart. He had to let his brother know.

But was Gideon still enamoured by her? Were his intentions still to fight for her? Had he been fighting for her and it had gone under Torin’s radar? Is that why Emara had been distant? Conflicted?

The door opened again.

Not her. The Empress of Water and her guard.

His patience was really wearing thin. He was about to go to her room himself to check on her. He would know if something wasn’t right, he always did. She was with Artem, and probably just taking her sweet time getting ready. Or she could be threatening to beat Artem within an inch of his life, for winding her up the wrong way. He smiled before taking a sip of his spiced rum on ice.

He liked the idea of that way more than the first.

He watched the room, searching for who he could see that had been at the Uplift. That threat was still out there, unsolved, and Torin still couldn’t accept that Taymir had been working on his own, not just a puppet.

He caught the eye of his youngest brother and gave a nod. He stood with Arlo Stryker, his comrade in the Selection. Torin saw the Empress of Spirit looking cosy with her guard. Nice. He saw Fae, none of them the king or queen, of course. They liked a private occasion on a night like this. He took in a few important Shifters, the Alpha of the wolves being one of them, in the corner of the room, lounging on large, cushioned chairs. Which meant Breighly Baxgroll and her brothers were also here somewhere. He looked over the room, scanning it thoroughly for her.

Mmmm.

Nowhere to be seen. She would normally be at the bar. A wave of anxious energy rolled low in his gut, making him move from the bar. Torin wasn’t the type to just sit around and wait. He was the type of person to take action. If Artem Stryker had left his post to pursue the wolf he had recently taken a liking to, his head would roll tonight.

Clan ally or not.

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