Page 82 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

“It suits you.”

Her head snapped to him, standing over by the fire, the sweet magic of the room glowing around him. He looked over at her through his thick, dark lashes, and the sharp angles of his face softened.

“Thank you.” She dipped her chin, warmth heating in her cheeks in a different way than usual.

“I will let you settle in,” he said, and strode to the door, brushing past her. He looked over his shoulder and said, “You know, if you miss me, you can always send me a fireletter.” Mischief broke over his face, and it complimented him so well. “Just think of me when you drop it in the fire. I know it will be hard not to.” He winked and closed the door with a cheeky grin.

“I know how it works!” Emara shouted towards the door, but nothing came back from beyond it.

Loosening her cloak from around her shoulders, she took everything in. The room was warm and toasty, and she was so thankful for that after her waterfall escapade and the chill that came with her reckless actions. She huffed out a laugh and she shook her head as her feet took her exploring. She walked through an archway that divided up her room, and it reminded her of a crescent moon on its side. The first thing she saw was a high-rise, stand-alone tub beside another lit fireplace.

Emara was certain she let out a little squeal of happiness.

Turning back around, she moved through the archway again, this time running her hands along the polished quartz. It was cool against her fingertips, and so smooth. As she felt a little spark of magic in her fingertips, she wondered who had stayed in this room before her. Could it have been someone in the Air bloodline?

Suddenly, there was a small crackling noise, and her attention snapped towards the fireplace in the main section of her room.

A small, folded square hovered above the flames.

It was a letter.

Her feet moved quickly, her heart fluttering. It was her first ever fireletter. As she neared the bewitched flames, she darted her hand over them quickly and snatched it. The letter was warm in her hand, but not the kind of heat you would have expected. It was comfortable, not burning.

Her nimble fingers unwrapped the folds and she straightened out the letter to read the words.

Rolling her eyes, she bit back a smile that tried to spread across her face.

Of course, Torin Blacksteel could be just as obnoxious over fireletter as he could be in person.

She reached for the leather satchel that Torin had placed on her bed when he came in. Rummaging through it, she found a small pot of ink the size of a coin and a blue feather quill, both bound to the journal that she had been taking notes in. She ripped a page from the spine. Dipping her quill in the ink, she scribbled:

An odd thrill ran up her spine. It was the first time she had ever written it down, and it felt a little more intimidatingly official as she scribbled it with black ink.

Witch.

Looking down, she realised how much neater Torin’s writing was in comparison to hers. Every letter was perfectly spaced to the next, every curve of his calligraphy was delicate and precise.

Of course, he has lovely handwriting too, she sneered inwardly.

The black ink on her paper dried, reminding her of the colour of his hair.

Was everything about him now?

Emara rolled her eyes again as she folded the paper neatly. Walking over to the fireplace, she exhaled and closed her eyes as she muttered his name into the fold before dropping it into the flames. It vanished, leaving behind no embers or no ash.

Gone.

Well, she wasn’t sure it had gone to Torin, but what could she do now?

She bit into her lip as she sat down on the edge of the bed. A few minutes went by, and still nothing had been delivered to the witchfire.

Damn, she had messed it up already.

With a sigh, she unpacked some of the items from her satchel before a crackling sound was once again heard, and she snapped her head towards the fireplace.

Another letter.

She hurried over to it and plucked it from where it levitated. She really should be more shocked about receiving a levitating letter through fire, but nothing surprised her anymore.

---