Page 67 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

Arlo Stryker.

And as Kellen stood in the shadows of the room, he could see Arlo standing in the limelight, working the crowd. Very much like his elder brother Artem, Arlo knew how to command a room and the attention of the factions. He had been in the same selection year as Kellen, and Arlo’s willingness to present himself had sucked Kellen in. He had such presence, and a charming wit that everyone around seemed to enjoy. Girl after girl, woman after woman, Arlo worked his way around them all, laughing, chatting, and caressing.

It was a stunning performance. An enviable one.

Why couldn’t he do the same? Why couldn’t his blood heat when he saw a girl dance or smile at him? Why couldn’t he even act like it did? Why couldn’t he feel…normal?

Kellen swirled the wine in his glass before inhaling its fruity aroma. He pressed the glass to his mouth, letting the tastes of crisp citrus devour his taste buds. Moments like these were when his heart reminded him that he and Torin had a common trait too; they numbed themselves if they began to feel things they shouldn’t.

He took another sip of wine, not bothering to taste it; he just wanted to stop feeling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Torin enter the room, followed by Emara, finally joining the revelry. The crowd moved towards them, and drinks were already being passed around to offer them. He hadn’t seen his eldest brother since he’d spared his father’s life, and he was still stunned at Torin’s move to keep his father alive and not exile him.

Their father, he reminded himself.

There weren’t many examples of mercy in the clan’s history. Torin’s decision hadn’t been the first like it, but it had been a bold move to keep his opponent alive.

Kellen had been happy to stand on Torin’s side when the clan had been split between the two Blacksteels. Ever since Kellen hadn’t made the highest ranking in the Selection, Viktir had pretended like he was just another member of the clan instead of his son. It hadn’t been a difficult decision.

Kellen suspected Gideon would have been more torn on who to choose, but in the end, he had chosen Torin too. It had been a day full of surprises, mixed emotions, and endless torment.

His mother had picked Torin—that had been a given. She despised the ground her husband walked on. A strange feeling urged Kellen to go and see his father in the cells of the Tower. It was probably the darker part of his soul that wanted to see Viktir sitting behind the iron bars, stripped of his commandership, his ability to bully and shame stuck within a cell. His power to lay a finger on his wife and never be reprimanded for it was caged for good. But Viktir played mind games, and Kellen wasn’t sure that it would be the best move for him to go.

“You look lost in thought.” A familiar accent pulled Kellen from the abyss of his own thoughts.

He looked up and saw Arlo, his grey tunic unbuttoned at the top and his reddish-brown hair askew from all the dancing.

“You don’t seem to be lost at all,” Kellen said back, knowing his tone was sharp and cutting.

Arlo took a stance beside him so that his shoulder brushed his own. Kellen’s heart sprung into his mouth and he finally felt the heat of the room. Arlo watched the dancing for a few moments before saying, “I am sorry that I haven’t written you back or been around much. I have, um…been extremely busy.”

After them being seen together, Arlo had ignored him and dismissed him privately. Yes, they chatted in public, making everything seem okay, but when Kellen had sent fireletter after fireletter, no response ever came.

Coward.

Arlo was a respected guard to the Empress of Earth, but he had many opportunities to write him back.

Kellen took a drink of wine that he hardly even tasted. “Hunters do not need to hear apologies or excuses.”

He couldn’t believe he had just quoted his father. The irony.

Arlo lowered his hand and let his knuckles brush against Kellen’s. “Hunters tend to say things…do things that they do not believe in because of who they are. I still think about you.”

Kellen pulled his hand away even though it took all he had as a warrior to fight the urges flowing through his body. “You cannot just ignore that I exist and then find me for comfort.”

Kellen stepped out to take his leave, but a warm hand caught his wrist.

“It is not for comfort that I seek you out, but because I want to.” Arlo’s chocolate eyes bore through his soul.

Kellen’s heart stopped altogether before speeding up in his chest. “Is there not a woman in the crowd waiting for your next dance?”

Arlo’s soft grin found his lips. “You know if I could pick without consequence, I would choose you to dance.”

And there it was—pain sharper than any lashing his father ever gave, deeper than any cut he had ever gained in weaponry, harder to deal with than any training in the Selection.

The pain of his hidden truth.

Kellen Blacksteel had a lot of secrets, and he tried too hard to pretend that they didn’t exist when he was on duty.

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