Page 5 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

His father had called him son. His commander had called him son, and it annoyed Gideon that it meant so much to him. It shouldn’t. It should have been a normal thing, but it wasn’t. That annoyed him because the minute he had left the Commanding Office, he knew he had been played.

Viktir had played his weakness too, not just Emara’s.

Somehow, he always felt exploited after leaving the Commanding Office. The paper in his hand felt wrong. The treaty between his clan and House Air burned his hand like he was holding a hot spindle.

It just felt…wrong.

How could it feel so wrong when it was something that he had been willing to fight for not long ago?

Finally standing outside her door, he knocked three times and called her name. “It’s Gideon. Can you let me in?”

The Gods only knew how many times over the last few months he had begged outside this very door for her just to talk to him. He had tried so hard. He had tried everything he could. He had to smooth things over between them. It was an order.

The handle turned quickly, and Artem Stryker opened the door. He shook his newly tattooed head—an inked arrow flew through the shaved part of his hair—and pulled a face that gave a warning. “Tread lightly, my man. Tread lightly.”

Gideon nodded and walked past the warrior who deserved more credit than he was getting right now. Artem was practically a one-man-band of protection at this stage. With Magin gone and Torin’s absentee nature, Artem was holding the fort together for the Empress of Air.

Gideon’s gaze found her instantly. Emara lay curled beside the big bay window, perched against an array of coloured cushions. She didn’t take her gaze off the city view as he came into the room.

She was in her favourite thinking place.

She didn’t even cast her eyes over him as she said, “If you came here in your father’s shadow to coax me into signing that Gods-forsaken treaty, you can see yourself out, Gideon.”

Gideon centred himself and placed his hands (and the treaty) behind his back. “I am here to check if you are all right after…after that meeting.”

She turned to face him then, rage still burning bright in her eyes. “Do you think you would be all right if the commander threatened to use your weakness against you?”

“He already does.” It was out his mouth before he could stop it. “He does it every day.”

She stilled, her eyes finding something on her hands. “I am sorry, Gideon. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he insisted, walking a little closer. “I don’t like what he did in there either. I don’t agree with him using your secrets against you. It’s a dirty move. I hate how he does that. I wish I could change it.”

Gideon could feel Artem stiffen behind him. He was one of the protectors of Emara’s secret. “I know,” was all she said before looking out at the city below again, the wetness of her eyes highlighted by the lowering sun. “I hate that he has something over me. Something that I can’t change.”

Gideon nodded and walked over to where she lay against the backdrop of the Huntswood. She looked so at home. “He told me after you left that courting is over, but I am sure I can push it out for another month or two. We don’t need to rush anything. We can make this work. But we need to come up with a plan. Maybe you could fake an illness for a few weeks.”

Even if it wasn’t what she wanted, even if he wasn’t what she wanted, he would still do it to protect her. He would do anything to protect her. A dull ache lingered in his chest.

A horrible laugh left her throat; it didn’t sound like her. “Gideon, my time of pushing this inevitability back has come to an end.” Her eyes met his, and like always, his heart hammered in his chest when she did. “And you know it too. This haunts my every waking moment, and just when I think I am done with the pain of my nightmares, I dream of this too.” She splayed out a hand, acknowledging the paper that he thought he had hidden behind his back. “This is my true nightmare. It’s not my choice. Torin gave me that choice back, and your father has ripped it away. He talks of my blood…he is the monster.”

Gideon stood before the stinging in his heart took over and his eyes found his boots. “I wish I was him. I wish I could be my brother for you, but I am not. I am so sorry for that.”

Emara’s head turned so quickly to face him. “Please don’t say that. You shouldn’t be sorry. You don’t want this either.” She stood, the sadness overwhelming her eyes. “I can see it on your face, Gideon. It is killing us all, not making us stronger. You don’t want this. None of us do.”

Shit, only Thorin knew what he wanted. His heart was being pulled in every direction possible.

“All I want is for you to be happy and safe,” he whispered, more than aware that Artem Stryker’s eyes were on his own boots now too.

Emara’s throat bobbed. “Maybe if I—we could just get through to Torin, maybe if you told me—”

“No, Emara.” The voice belonged to Artem, and he began to walk forward to stand near Gideon. “We are not telling you where he is. He’d kill us. He doesn’t want you to know. You need to stop asking us.”

Hurt splashed across her face, and it was so painful to see her heart continuously break.

“We made a promise to him, Emara.” Gideon’s voice was so small he didn’t recognise it. “We promised him that if he left the Tower, we wouldn’t tell you where he was. It’s not safe for you to go after him.”

Emara bit her lip and folded her arms around herself. She seemed to ponder over thoughts, and Gideon wasn’t sure if he liked it when she was quiet. He shot a glance at Stryker; his expression was puzzled, confirming that he was in the same boat.

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