Page 117 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

Was someone arguing? The blankets fell around her waist as she sat up fully.

“The Empress of Air will be sleeping,” she heard Magin hiss.

“I must see her,” a familiar voice said. “It is urgent.”

Before Emara could rack her brains thinking whom the voice belonged to, her door opened. She heard boots along her floor and a sigh from Magin before seeing another hunter stand before her fireplace.

It was Kellen Blacksteel.

Magin shuffled in after him.

“I tried to stop him.” Magin looked towards Emara apologetically. “But it seems he has something of importance to tell you.”

“I am deeply sorry to have awoken you, Emara,” Kellen said.

He was panting. Something was wrong.

Shoving the covers from her legs, she stood, every hair on her body standing with her.

“You didn’t wake me,” she said, searching his face for anything that would give the reason for his urgent visit, some clarity. “Is there something wrong, Kellen?” She looked from him to Magin.

Whatever it was, Magin seemed to look as lost as she was.

“I must speak with you,” he said, his normally olive skin pale against the darkness of his hair. Broken moon beams glared through her window, casting shadows onto his face. “Alone.”

Magin stood forward to object, but Emara nodded. “It’s okay,” she said to Magin. “I am safe with a Blacksteel. You know that.”

His eyes narrowed, but his lips pulled into a line at her silent instruction to leave them alone.

As the door closed, silence filled the space.

Kellen stood in what looked like nightwear for hunters, in grey breeches and a long-sleeved tunic. His hair lay limp against his head, his features dragging.

“Is everything okay?” she asked again, knowing it couldn’t be if Kellen Blacksteel had requested to see her in the premature hours of the morning.

His eyes were dark pits as he glared at her, his features dripping with troublesome thoughts. He parted his lips, then looked away.

Oh Gods, this was it. The conversation she knew they needed to have was about to happen.

“Kellen, it’s okay,” she began to say. Her tone was so soft and gentle, it reminded her of Huntswood cotton. “I won’t tell anyone about what I saw.”

His eyes suddenly flew to hers and he swallowed. “That’s not why I am here.”

Confusion fell over her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Kellen was quicker.

“I need to tell you something about myself,” he said. Distress almost drowned his youthful appearance.

Emara’s heart started beating at twice the pace it should. “Kellen, I do not judge you. Love is love, regardless of the person your heart chooses.”

He spoke with a cold frustration this time. “I cannot echo again that I am not here for that reason.”

She blinked. “Then why?”

His jaw tightened, and in that moment, he looked more like Torin than Gideon. “I am different from my brothers.” He coughed. “And not in the way you think.” His heterochronic gaze found hers again. He continued, “I know you are new to this world, but there are complexities to magical blood that even the ancients didn’t understand.”

He must have realised that she was not following, because he continued.

“I see things.” His voice shook as he explained. “I dream of-of things. I have since I was a child.” He paused. Emara stood quiet, not wanting to interrupt him even though she had no idea what he meant or where he was going with this conversation. “I dream of things and then they come true. They happen.” The hairs on Emara’s body stood again as a shiver snaked through her.

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