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Only the Gods knew the answers that were swelling in her heart, and only time would tell if their plan for her was to take on that duty. But until then, she would embody an empress that she aimed to be proud of.

“I will protect your secrets and who you are.” Emara finally looked up at the youngest Blacksteel brother that stood in her room. “But you do not have to hide these parts of yourself from me. With me, you have a safe place to be what you want, who you want.”

“Thank you.” Kellen’s voice was now strong and held together, like he had never shown a strain of weakness. He looked at her, his eyes storming with promise. “And from this moment, I vow to protect you from whatever darkness is coming your way.”

Kellen Blacksteel’s visit to her room had haunted Emara for days now. And she even found herself training with the clans with the vivid memory of his fear-struck eyes still lingering in her mind. The truth of what he had said about himself, niggling against the possibility that she wasn’t safe at the Amethyst Palace, had shook her. But duties of being the leader of House Air had taken over, and she was already swarmed by paperwork regarding alliances, territory, food supplies, and trade deals with merchants or seamstresses for her witches. It all went to her for approval, and if there was anything of concern, she passed it on to Deleine to have the final say. The days on the lead up to the winter solstice had been a blur of training and signing her signature, so it had been a welcome distraction to think about the ball.

Emara had just come from a private dinner with the Supreme and the other empresses—to talk through a possible alliance for a clan in the east and House Water—to find three fireletters hovering above the golden flames in her room, all from Torin.

She wondered if he had noticed she had been so distant. If she didn’t see Torin, she didn’t need to keep her new secret to herself.

Wasting no time, Emara hid herself in her bathing chamber, trying to complete a calming ritual. But the thoughts of Kellen’s words crawled into the bath with her like a water serpent ready to drown her. When she wasn’t tied down to her covenal duties, it’s where her mind spiralled.

She couldn’t tell anyone about it. Even after training this morning, watching Torin spar with Gideon, the words wanted to scream from her mouth that something was coming, something was wrong. But Emara knew she couldn’t tell a soul that she wasn’t safe here, not without outing Kellen.

Somehow, in the foolish caves of her mind, she had tried to pacify her thoughts by telling herself that the vision Kellen had seen through sleep might not come true.

I still cannot unhear the cries of death.

She was screwed.

She was screwed regardless of how many times she tried to convince herself that the vision had no weight. It wasn’t a coincidence that her grandmother had left a note to warn her of the dangers of this world. It wasn’t a coincidence when Callyn had skimmed over the darkness of their conversation and focused on the good, on the light. It wasn’t a coincidence that the Solden heir of a fortune wanted her to be his wife. He had been toying with darkness, immorality, and things that crawled out of the underworld to devour. And she had wondered, more often than not, why that had led to her, why an elite man found a path to darkness through her.

She ran a bar of sweet fig soap over her skin and took a breath.

She had to breathe.

The Winter Solstice Ball was tomorrow, and she had to focus on one thing at a time. She had to take her mind off the darkness that lurked at her heels and focus on the light of the Gods. That’s what her whole existence meant, right?

The light. Her witches. Her duty.

Brushing a wide-toothed comb through her damp hair, adding some jojoba oil to the ends of it, she worked through her mind to find something positive.

Sybil. Sybil had been continuing to train her in magic, helping her form small wards around glasses. They kept the glasses safe from whatever Sybil threw at them, physical or elemental. They had been working on control and execution of the elements, and it had been liberating to see her magic finally take a shape and form in a controlled way. Working with Sybil was beneficial. It was going just as well as training with the hunters. It felt purposeful.

Sybil had joined yet another training session in combat, and after Emara had sparred with Artem and Torin, Sybil had found some time to have a girly chat.

“When you look at him…” Sybil said, stretching from her training session. She nodded to Torin, who was stacking up weapons. “It’s like you have just seen a new world materialise in front of you.”

Emara snapped her head in Sybil’s direction; the witch’s face was pure and genuine.

“And when he looks at you…it’s like, for him, you are the world.”

Emara had stood in silence as she let the words soak into her very being, sliding in and warming around her heart.

“He got me a gift for the winter solstice. I want to get him a gift too,” she finally managed, her voice tickling her throat. “But what in the world of Rhiannon would you get Torin Blacksteel?” She looked at Sybil.

“There are many things that he would like. A new weapon, a present that involves liquor, even a book of war, perhaps.” Sybil circled round so that she was facing Emara directly. She fought to keep her auburn hair out of her face. “But something in my gut tells me he would appreciate something more personal than that.” Her eyebrow danced up again.

“What?”

Emara had been two octaves away from squawking, and she laughed now as she remembered her friend’s expression.

“You.” Sybil’s leaf-green eyes were two shades more meaningful than they were before. There was no hint of sarcasm in her voice, nor was there any quip.

Emara coughed out a broken laugh. “And how do you gift someone yourself? Surely, that would be an inadequate let down of a present.” Emara scoffed, cheeks burning.

“I can’t believe how much you are underestimating yourself right now,” Sybil said with a hint of a smile. “You clearly have no idea how much you mean to him.” She paused to push her fiery hair from her face. “Or what it would mean to him if you showed him how you truly felt.” Sybil lunged into a stretch, leaving Emara to stare over at Torin once more. When she straightened from her stretch, Sybil said, “Maybe there is no better gift than giving your heart and soul to someone this solstice.”