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“Thank you,” Emara mouthed, sounding a little strangled. She shifted the weight of the weapon into her other hand. It fit perfectly in her hand. “Torin, it is so beautiful.”

“Just like the empress who will command her.” His voice came out strong, but something softer floated in his eyes.

Looking from the weapon that felt so impressively at home in her hands, she looked at him. “Torin, I haven’t gotten you a gift.” Shame crept into her tone. “I should have gone into the city before we left or—”

“Emara,” he stopped her, placing a hand atop her raised weapon to lower it. “Hunters don’t expect a gift in return. That is not the tradition.” He still held on to her wrist, not telling go. “I am just grateful I could give you something.” His blue eyes flickered bright, something momentous lying deep within them.

“I absolutely love it.” She gaped down at it again, her breath catching in her throat as she spoke. He worked a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her head forward to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead whilst he disarmed the weapon from her grip.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered. He must have gripped the band where the ruby lay, because the poles slid back in, disappearing like they were never there.

“And when it’s this size, you can strap it around that pretty thigh of yours.”

She bit down on her lip to trap a smile. “Maybe I can match it with that little burgundy dress you love so much,” a velvet purr left her mouth, and she was stunned that she could sound so in control when her heart certainly was not.

“Now, Clearwater…” He ran the hand that wasn’t holding her weapon over her cheekbone and onto her jaw. “Do you know how much of a tragedy it would be if my heart gave out before I got to taste every inch of you?” He lowered the hand that had cupped her jaw down her plain white shirt.

“You always did tell me how important it was to find the weakness in my opponent before he found mine,” she breathed as he loosened a button at the top of her blouse and played with it.

“You normally can’t hear me over the rolling of your eyes.” His glittering gaze narrowed.

Just as a giggle escaped her, she heard two sharp knocks on the door. It was a warning from outside that someone was coming in. Taking the hint, Torin handed Emara her weapon and moved back in time for Lorta to usher everything that she had pulled together into the room, including the other two guards that made up her cluster.

A laugh burst from her mouth as she caught sight of Artem Stryker carrying in a stack of dresses that overwhelmed even his physique. Magin looked at them over boxes that she presumed had shoes in them.

“You owe me for this, Clearwater,” Artem grumbled.

Emara looked over at Torin, who was one second away from losing control over his features. His hand went up to his mouth. “You would look good in all of them, Stryker.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Artem’s eyes dragged from Torin’s to the bundle of material in every colour in his hands. “I look good in anything, I will have you know.”

Emara giggled again, biting into the side of her cheek.

Lorta’s face was bright red as she glanced at the guards standing in the room. “It’s girls only, I am afraid.”

The cheeky expression on Artem’s face dropped. “You promised I could watch if I helped you carry them.”

“Like I would allow that.” Torin’s jaw hardened as he shot his friend, a look that forced him to reconsider his words.

“I lied.” Lorta bopped her shoulders up. “Sorry.”

After tugging his eyes from Artem’s face, Torin looked to Emara. “I will see you tomorrow.” He hesitated a moment before closing the space between them. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her passionately. His lips hovered over hers for a precious moment that she wished was longer and then he was gone. Feeling like her knees could buckle at any given second, she looked at who was still left in the room.

Artem stood with his mouth open, even though a grin pulled it to one side. Magin’s face was still unreadable, but his eyebrows were higher on his forehead than normal. Lorta just stared at her, in wide-eyed silence.

“Well,” Emara said, trying to pretend like nothing had just happened, like Torin Blacksteel hadn’t claimed her mouth in front of them. “Let’s look at these dresses for the Winter Solstice Ball, shall we?”

The night must have been fading into the early morning as the wind battered little shards of ice into the window. Not sure if the outside conditions were responsible for keeping her awake or having never ending thoughts of Torin Blacksteel, Emara rolled on to her side. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the stunningly fatal weapon on the pillow next to her. It glowed from the embers of the eternally burning witchfire in the fireplace. Her new weapon was strong and unyielding, and it was a promise of who she could be when she held it.

Pulling her hand from underneath the heavy blanket, she stroked her fingertips along her gift. She had never owned such a deadly item. It was hers to train with and to use. It would be used to prevent someone or something from taking her life like she had done before, driving a similar spear through Taymir Solden.

Her body stiffened, trying to purge the memory from her mind.

But it lingered. The smell, the screams, the death…

Muffled voices came from outside her door, causing her to raise from her pillow. She knew at least one guard stood outside her door, but she didn’t know who it was. Torin hadn’t returned after taking his leave that evening, so the possibility of it being Artem or Magin was high.

The muffled voices grew louder.