Page 25 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

“And that lasted thirty seconds until I was disappointed again. So you better be quick…like you always are.” She winked.

“So cruel.” Finally, Artem’s expression turned serious. “Emara wants you to be at the prime meeting tomorrow.”

Air whooshed from her lungs.

Breighly, for once, was stunned. “But why? I want to avoid those meetings where I can.”

“Maybe she is looking out for her favourite guard and letting him bring a date to the summit.”

Breighly rolled her eyes so hard it hurt her skull. “Artem, you know I can break bones really easily. Why do you test my restraint? We all know it’s already weak.”

He laughed his barking chuckle before he settled back down for business. “The air witch has her reasons for why she wants you there.”

“I want you to tell me why.” Worry curled in her stomach. “You have that weird glint in your eye like you know something that I don’t, and it is making me want to kick in your balls.”

“Because the Empress of Air has been thinking of ways she can change the world, as usual.” Artem’s brow rose, and his fondness for the empress shone bright in his eyes. “She is making big moves tomorrow, and I think you will want to see this.”

Breighly shifted her weight in her heels and searched his face for answers. “Why? Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?”

He considered something before he spoke. “The fact that you have to ask that probably alludes to the fact that you have done something illegal. But no. It’s not because you have done something wrong. It’s because she is going to campaign to the prime for you to be her official third guard.” He began to move, but before he left, he threw her a look over his shoulder. “If she’s successful tomorrow, you are going to be the first female guard in the history of the kingdom, should you want it. Why would you want to miss history being made?”

Breighly Baxgroll had never been stunned speechless, but she was now. And as she watched Artem Stryker walk away, she couldn’t help but feel a shit-eating grin flex in her jaw.

Don’t worry, he’ll come,” Artem reassured her as his broad shoulder bumped her own. “I know he will.”

Members of the prime and magical factions had begun pouring through the old-fashioned mansion doors into the room that was holding the summit. This was one of the stately homes of the Minister of Coin, and you could tell that old wealth had decorated the room. White stone columns stood in four corners, intertwined with gold ribbon, and a glass chandelier glittered in the middle of the room, hanging like a diamond earring. The wooden floors shone like a pretty coin, and paintings of elder elite members were hanging on the walls, framed by gold plates. A humongous oak desk sat at the top of the room, five chairs stationed around it. It was always five chairs, no matter that there were no longer five prime members. Benches had been set out for the other attendees of today’s summit, and in true elite style, they had maids bringing everyone refreshments.

The room was noisy, full of chatter and footsteps, making Emara even more nervous that she would need to stand in front of these people and ask for something that had never been done in the history of Caledorna. Her stomach increased its churning dramatically.

Noting the Empress from House Fire walking through the doors first, Emara gave a nod in her direction, followed by a smile. Rya Otterburn returned the polite gesture, her face still set harshly as always. Emara had been thinking about her encounter with the fire empress since the gathering in the Fairlands, and she disliked how she didn’t know where she stood with her. She was so incredibly hard to read. Rya didn’t trust her fully, that was clear, but Emara supposed that might always be the case. The scorched black bone of her crown sat jagged on Rya’s head. The crown sparkled with black and red rubies that looked like they contained tiny embers. She did look regal. Maybe she would bloom into the supreme soon and this unwanted rivalry could end between them.

Kerrix Bellfield was the next witch to stroll through the room with her guards. She took a seat down from Rya and her house, a few members from her coven appearing to support her. Kerrix’s enchanting crown was wedged into her moonlight-coloured hair. When Emara looked at the crown of spirit, she could see that it was the thinnest of them all, held together with fragments of coin, gold chain, and crystals. Although it didn’t sit like a crown, high in her hair, it fell over her forehead beautifully, glistening under the light. Her eyes were alert, like the ancient spirits of this room were telling her a few tales.

The Empress of Water floated into the room just after House Spirit, her beautiful sandy hair weighed down by the crown of coral, seaweed, shells, and pearls that sat gracefully on her head. She was aloof as always, and beside her sat her husband, the only member of Clan Coldwell to have attended.

Just as Emara was about to flex her skills in spirit magic, hoping to find an energy she knew, Breighly Baxgroll strolled through the door, wide-eyed and flanked by her pack.

Emara stood.

Her pack was menacing, full of muscle and fangs, and the wolves always came to these events like a unit of force. Breighly wasn’t always in tow with them, but her brothers were. There was a sharpness in their eyes and an edge about how they looked, especially in a place as pretentious as this one. The Baxgroll wolves were more frightening visually than in real life. They had always been nothing but kind and welcoming to her. But she knew that could change in a heartbeat if she was considered a threat.

Casting her golden eyes over the crowd, Breighly spotted Emara and smiled. She winked one of her dangerous winks and bowed her head full of golden hair in a sign of respect for the empress. She took a last scan of the crowd before taking a seat with her brothers, Roman and Waylen, who looked intrigued. She wondered if Breighly had told them her reasons for being here or if it would come as a complete surprise to them. Her father, the alpha of every Shifter in the kingdom, took his place at the end of the room in one of the five faction chairs.

More hunters, Fae, witches and elite piled into the room, and Emara had to almost drown out the chatter with the buzz of her own nerves to concentrate on her task. It reminded her of being under trial for the events of the Amethyst Palace.

It had been a gruelling few days when the hearing had taken place, and sometimes she had seen a different outcome in her nightmares. One where they had found her guilty of treason for killing her supreme, or one where the prime found out about her blood and deemed her a threat to the kingdom. In the same dreams, Viktir Blacksteel had arranged her execution, and she had always awoken drenched in her sweat before he brought down the almighty sword on her head.

But none of that had happened, and the prime had found Emara nothing but innocent. Having the Blacksteels’ influence in the magical society had helped a lot, and the fact that the other empresses had sympathised and praised her also went in her favour.

Emara shuddered thinking about it.

As she readjusted her focus, she caught a glimpse of sapphire eyes filled with agony and black hair that shone like a bottomless well of ink.

Her breath caught at the sight of him. He was here.

He had come to the summit.

Torin Blacksteel stood in the threshold of the door, aloof but powerful, his body stealing the light that tried to come through the door.

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