Page 4 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

Viktir gave a cynical laugh. “Please accept my apologies, Empress.” He clasped his hands together and rested them on a few scattered papers on his desk. “I meant no disrespect. You see, I look at you like you are one of the members of this Tower, and you have stayed within these walls for so long that sometimes I forget you are not. So please understand when I say I forget sometimes that you are a witch with a crown. You have helped raise the wards on this building and restore our protection whilst we sleep. Your fire heats the rooms of my men, and your gifts allow us to communicate with society easily.” He blinked slowly, still eyeing Emara like a hawk. “The Clan does not forget these generosities, even when you are not linked to us in marriage.”

The commander reached out for the crystal glass on his desk and held it to his lips before savouring its contents. He must know the silence was uncomfortable, and he bathed in its painful glory. Sadistic bastard.

He finished his liquor slowly before raising one finger with a menacing grin. “But what I do need to remind you of, Empress, is that you are only a resident of this Tower for as long as I say you are. You are an orphan, a refugee from Mossgrave that we have taken under our wing. Please make no mistake when I say that you are welcome here, but my patience is wearing thin. For both of you.” The commander’s eyes slid to Gideon and then back to Emara. “You are here because you are to be Gideon’s wife. You are to bare Blacksteel boys. Warriors. An heir to our legacy. That is your purpose. That is why you still stay in the comfortable quarters that you do, or you would be on your own.”

Gideon choked down a breath as heartbeats pulsed in the room.

Or maybe that was just his own.

“I am here because I provide protection for your men, whether you respect it or not.” Emara lifted her chin. “I heal their wounds and I give you as much security as you give me. I am well liked within the community, and that position comes with respect from the elders. I liaise with the prime just as much as you do, and with the same relevance as any man. That, Commander, is all without being a wife. No demon can walk through those doors because I keep them out of your failing wards.”

“You don’t keep all of them out,” Viktir snapped, and his eyes sparkled with an unspoken danger.

Gideon heard Emara’s breathing hitch.

“Are you forgetting that I know what blood runs in your veins?” he sneered. “The fact that I am taking a chance on your half-murky blood to produce warriors of my calibre shows how much I respect you. Don’t you talk to me of respect. You need to remember, girl, that you have demons walking under your skin. I give you all of the respect you deserve.”

Shit.

Gideon could have sworn steam was coming from Emara’s ears. He closed his eyes to regather his thoughts. Shit! This could go sideways, especially now that Emara was painfully quiet.

“Father!” he finally said, sitting forward a little. “That’s enough. We decided collectively long ago that we don’t care what blood runs in her veins. We know she is of the Light Gods’ following. She fights with us. She stands with us. And if she is to be my wife, I beg you, do not use that part of who she is against her. She is our alliance.” He looked down at his trembling hands as he stood up to his commander. “And a strong one at that.”

His commander ignored him, keeping his eyes on Emara’s face. “There are only a select few who know of your blood, Miss Clearwater, and should you want it to stay that way, you will obey my orders.”

Gideon almost hissed as he took a quick glance at the Empress who sat in the chair next to him. Her skin was flushed now, and he could see how much she was trying to control her anger by the way she had clasped her hands tightly together. She must be trying to control a wave of magic that could blow this room apart.

Viktir sat back in his large chair that swept up higher than his head. “If I were you, I would sign this treaty.” He slid a piece of white paper towards Emara. “And I would sign it fast, solidifying your union. You never know what alliances you are going to need if word ever breaks of your ties to the underworld...of whom your father is.”

Emara’s chest was heaving in rage. The air was warming around them like they had just entered a furness. Suddenly, his collar felt strangling around his neck; he tried to loosen it, but nothing helped.

Viktir raised a scarred hand under his chin nonchalantly. “If rumours were ever to circulate of you being a demon half-breed, you are going to need more than just an alliance. You are going to need a credible husband who will support you and legitimise your position as an empress. You will need a strong clan to bulk out your protection, and you will need your coven to feel safe with you on its throne. They need to know you are not a wild card, ready to throw them to your demon king for immortality. After all, a woman needs a husband to ensure normal life, a stable life, to ensure reproduction of magical life—”

“I am sick of hearing about what you think I need, Viktir Blacksteel.” Her voice cut through the air like an arrow. “I was more than willing to set aside my feelings on an arranged marriage to suit the needs of my coven before you changed your side of the bargain out of spite. But you are right about one thing; I do need to make sure my alliance is strong, and I need to ensure that my witches are safe. But with you in the thick of my arrangements, I don’t feel safe, nor do I feel that it is a credible union. Do you think that you are the only one interested in what I have to offer? Do you think you are the only commander in Caledorna with sons? I think it’s about time that I remind you that I am the only Empress of Air in this kingdom. Do not fire threats towards me, Commander. As you can see, I have overcome a lot to be sitting here in front of you, and you are only one man. Rumours fade; alliances are forever.”

Emara stood and flicked a look towards Gideon, her midnight hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. Her eyes bore hurt, and if Gideon didn’t know her like he did, he wouldn’t have noticed the fear in them too. She held her mask well. “I am sorry, Gideon; when I talk of the credible union, it is not a reflection of you. You are a credit to this clan.” She dipped her chin, and her hard features softened for the briefest of moments. “Please excuse me. An empress has better things to be doing than tolerating the insults of a man.”

Emara bowed her head towards Gideon and then stormed from the room.

Gideon bit into his lip as the door slammed shut. His eyes trailed to his father’s face—a face of hard stone and relentless callousness. “Blackmail? Really, Father? You would blackmail her into marrying me? Do you know how low that was to talk of her blood?”

“Gideon…” His father released a deep breath and he repositioned the half-full whiskey glass back on his desk. “Fear is the angle I am going for to ensure this alliance. She is defiant. I told her I would make her bend, and so far, she hasn’t. It has gone on too long. Something needs to give.” His cold eyes explored Gideon’s face. “I used the fact that she fears what would happen to her if people knew of her blood. And that, my son, is her weak spot. She has no one if her coven turns their backs on her, and we need to use that. As for you”—he looked up through hooded eyes—“I am not sure what it is that you are doing to make sure you secure a marriage to the Empress of Air, but it is not working. We have all seen her power. I have to give it to her; she is a force to be reckoned with. The girl knows what she is worth, and I need you to ensure she is not looking elsewhere for an alliance. Do you want to fail me like your brother did?”

Gideon’s fists tightened. “A force to be reckoned with? You say that and then you go and treat her like—like she is not an empress of a coven, but a low-bred demon from the underworld. Emara Clearwater is not a toy to be played with, Father, as you have so cleverly pointed out. So why are you toying with her emotions?”

Viktir sat back in his chair again and circled the liquor in the glass once more, letting the smoky aroma of the drink filter into the air. “Because when someone is toyed with long enough, they start to believe that they have no other option but to be a part of your game.”

Gideon let out a bitter laugh. “And is that where I fit into all of this? Is that all I am to you? A part of your games? Your pawn?” He flinched as he recalled Torin’s words.

Viktir cut him off harshly, “You are not my pawn, Gideon; you are my son.”

Gideon’s heart beat like a war drum at his father’s words. He never acknowledged their relationship or gave any sentiment to the fact that they were anything else but commander and hunter.

Viktir leaned forward and pushed the treaty towards Gideon. “Let’s not bring our emotions into decisions that need to be made by warriors, son. Your task is simple. Get her to agree to the treaty and set a date for the union. Courting is officially done. That’s a command.”

Gideon’s fingers hovered over the paper before he snatched it and left the room without looking back.

As Gideon made his way through the corridors to the east wing of the Tower, his blood was fizzing.

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