Page 94 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

His lips parted to say that she didn’t own his heart, but nothing came from his mouth.

Sybil looked at him in a way that made Gideon’s heart thump in his chest. “Understood,” she whispered.

“I didn’t say anything.” He stepped forward, reaching for her.

“You didn’t have to.” She stepped back, placing a hand up for him to keep his distance.

“Sybil...” He hesitated about telling her the truth. It wasn’t the Empress of Air who he dreamt of, who he couldn’t wait to see in the morning. He didn’t dream of kissing the Empress of Air. But he didn’t know if it was professional of him to overstep the line between them. His heart had somehow shifted, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Sybil Lockhart had snuck into his broken heart and mended it.

Sybil turned and was out of sight before his stupid feet would work to go after her. “Sybil, no. Wait!” But she was gone, and his voice rang through the trees—and possibly the camp. He placed his hands atop his head. “Shit!”

They reached the outskirts of Lake Rhiannon a few hours before sunset the next day. The forest’s canopy was the only reprieve from the summer’s sun during the day, and they had tried to keep in the shade during their vigorous hike. Weapons and tents were carried between the men, and the women had taken the food and medical supplies. But even at dusk the air was so thick and moist with heat; he had perspiration in places he didn’t even sweat after a full day of Viktir’s training.

Viktir Blacksteel.

His father’s name rang through him like a temple bell, buzzing and vibrating in his heart. He didn’t want to give his father much thought, especially not on this day, but the time would come when he would need to face him and deliver his punishment fully. He was still considering what role he would have him play in the clan.

Boot scrubber.

Weapon polisher.

Personal ass-kisser to the commander.

Maybe mucking out the stables was a kind role to give a man who had ruined a big part of the goodness you had held as a child.

He was supposed to punish the men who chose his father over him too. Torin did not blame them for choosing Viktir. He understood that no one liked change, and some struggled more than others to accept it.

However, there were other pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that he would be wed to Emara Clearwater at dusk.

The pulse in his neck was hammering as he thought of her being his wife. Hope swelled in his chest where he always tried to balance it with reality. But today, he couldn’t. She was going to be his wife. Emara Clearwater, the girl from Mossgrave who had turned out to mean more to the kingdom than anyone would have ever thought, was to be intertwined with his soul, his and hers combined for eternity.

He would forever be grateful that his path had led him to her.

He knew the nuptials wouldn’t last as long as they normally did—usually taking days—as they had to make their way to the Temple of the Gods. But he could make that up to her in other ways. He could spend the rest of their lives making it up to her. He wasn’t going to think of a single thing that involved demon hunting or the Dark Army tonight.

He would be present, absorbing every moment. He would enjoy all of her and cherish this night, and no one or no thing would change that. Even Thorin knew not to interfere with his life today. For so many long, torturous years, he couldn’t even imagine having what he had now. Emara Clearwater had given him hope, a chance at a future that was full of things that were real and raw, things that made his heart full. They could spend long nights exploring each other until dawn split the trees. They could exchange gifts at winter solstice. Thorin’s tradition dictated he gift her weapons, but he would give her so much more; he wanted to spoil her with everything she ever wanted. On clan birthdays and weddings, they would stand together. They would have dinners with everyone that would bring joy and quiet evenings alone that would bring solace. He could watch her read, dream, and practice magic. They would have so many moments together that no one else would share.

Torin had a future with her, a true partnership.

But Torin knew he would never be Emara’s equal; she was superior in every way. But she had chosen him back anyway.

Something jumped in his heart at the thought of it all.

He turned around, looking behind himself to see a weary clan with the same sticky skin he had. Emara walked just behind him with Breighly and Sybil on either side; they were chatting about a book Sybil had read. All of them had perspiration in their hairlines and a flush on their cheeks. But they were keeping pace, and he was proud of them for it. Gideon was scouting the area with his bow in his hand. Kellen, to his surprise, was just behind Emara and engaged in conversation with Arlo, his eyes shining bright. His mother and Emara’s maids walked in the middle of the formation, and all the remaining hunters surrounded them as a coat of protection.

But he could see the exhaustion in their eyes, the heat of the sun draining their energy.

“Halt,” he yelled, loud enough to scare birds from their perches overhead “This is the spot. We will stop here. Get yourselves hydrated and cooled down.”

Just around the treeline to the left was Lake Rhiannon, and Torin could see the glimmer of her waters through the gaps in the branches. Already, his magical blood sang Rhiannon’s song, her mystical aura calling to him. The magic of the grounds was already whisking through the clan in a summer breeze, refreshing them.

Torin remembered the last time he had been at a God’s hallowed place, the Waterfall of Uttara, where he first kissed Emara. The stars had truly exploded above them to form other galaxies as he claimed her mouth. He would remember that first kiss for the rest of his existence.

He shook the memory out of his mind and the excitement out of his leathers as he realised all eyes were on him, his clan still waiting on a command. “Rest up after the camp is set.” He glanced over at Emara. “And I will see you before sundown.”

How could someone look so fucking sensual in plain training gear? The material hugged the curves of her breasts and hips. And praise Thorin that he couldn’t see her from behind; her ass was perfection, especially in tight black leggings.

---