Page 42 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

A fight to the death.

“No, Torin, please. I can buy us time.”

“It is too late.” He held onto her hand, and his sapphire eyes bore through her soul. “You cannot change my mind. It’s done. I promised my father a war a long time ago. It was always inevitable.”

Emara let out a cry of fear and frustration. This couldn’t happen. Viktir would not change his mind in front of so many people, making him look remotely soft or yielding. And it was too late for Emara to change Torin’s mind—she could see that in his eyes.

It was done.

Torin had decided. If Viktir did not agree to change the terms of the Blacksteel alliance with the House of Air, Torin would challenge his right to the commandership.

He would not back down. He would not surrender and give in to his commander’s orders. He would fight to the death for his cause.

Today, Torin Blacksteel would either stand victorious or he would fall.

Leaving Torin’s room alone was like someone else had taken over her body and was somehow controlling her, like a wayward spirit had possessed her mind and was pushing everything into slow motion.

She was a puppet in the strings of fear.

Emara felt numb. Sick. Frantic.

But she couldn’t let the detachment of her mind cloud her next steps.

It was inevitable. His mind was made up. She could see there was no changing that.

A coldness spread across her skin, and she wasn’t sure if it was her clothes, still damp from last night’s rain, or the fact that she had left Torin to prepare himself for battle. She couldn’t even use her fire to heat her bones right now as she walked back to her room, too numb to summon anything.

As she entered her chambers, the light from the dawn was lazily pouring through the windowsill, sending a glow up her walls. Specks of dust shone through the beams. She focused on that for Gods knew how long and then she let out a breath as the door to her room closed behind her. Emara placed her head against the wood, shutting her eyes for a moment.

The Gods had a plan for her. Rhiannon had a path for her.

And it couldn’t only be sorrow and heartbreak.

They had a plan for everyone.

She placed her palms together and whispered endless prayers up to the Light Gods. She asked Rhiannon, Goddess of the Moon and Dreams, to make her dreams come true. She begged Uttara of the Stars and Dawn to let Torin see another sunrise. She prayed to Vanadey of Life and Beauty to let Torin stay by her side. And she pleaded with Thorin, God of the Sun and War, that there would be no more deaths. Please. Not him.

Of course, there would be more deaths; that was also an inevitability. But, please, not Torin. He was her protector. He was who she was truly meant to meet in this life. He was her best friend. Her heart. He was the person her soul sang for.

Just as the walls of her room heard the end of her prayers, a rustling came from the direction of her bed, followed by a few curse words.

Emara’s head swung up from the door, her hands now parted. But she wasn’t armed, so magic would need to be her aid. She supposed that was a good thing about being a witch; she was almost always armed.

Just as she gathered a ball of air in her hand, ready to strike the intruder, Artem Stryker appeared from around the wall panelling that kept her bed hidden from the small hallway she had taken a moment to pray in. He had a guard tunic on his top half, but it seemed that he had lost his leathers, only sporting his undergarments. His russet hair was pulled in every direction, and it was the first time she had ever seen it untidy.

“For the love of Rhiannon,” Emara breathed, dissolving the element that was ready to strike. “I almost blasted you with air.” Her eyes roamed over him again. “Do I even want to know why you are half naked in my room?”

He grinned bashfully and covered his private area with his large tattooed hands. “Er…I…”

Emara heard another hiss, and a curse came from behind the wall.

Emara took one more look at Artem Stryker and curled her lip. “You didn’t.”

“I can explain—”

Emara walked forward, summoning that ball of air that she had banished as she sucked in the air of the room. “Is this the part where you tell me you didn’t just have sex in my room?” she roared. “My bed?”

“I—”

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