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“I think we could make our little nights in La Luna a recurring event if you really wanted.” Breighly let her mouth fall open slightly into a grin. “And maybe this time I won’t be a hot mess.” She laughed, and then mummed her lips shut. “I would have always helped you tonight, Emara. I told you I owed you one for what you did for Eli.”

There it was.

The hideous pain in her chest that she would normally numb with liquor, men, and music.

“Thank you.” Emara dipped her chin gracefully. “And now I owe you one back.”

She smiled at her gently.

A handful of seconds passed over as Breighly’s eyes searched Emara’s room, noting how much bigger and fancier it was than hers. “So, you have really never…” Breighly shook her head, the unfinished question pushing from her lips.

“No,” Emara said quickly, her unusual eyes pinning her to where she stood.

“How have you survived?” Breighly blurted out. “How have you not boiled over and cracked right up the middle?”

Emara’s laugh broke through the air. “It’s not easy.”

All awkwardness between them had gone, and the foundations of an organic conversation finally began.

“No, girl.” Breighly stuck out her neck. “I know it’s not easy. That’s why I am in awe right now.” She flung a hand up to flick her hair. “I need to stop having sex. I need to stop having meaningless, great sex with…” She tried to find the words. “Well, with just anyone.”

Because that’s what it was, meaningless.

Emara gestured to the bed as she laughed a little. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

Breighly sat on Emara’s bed. “Maybe I should take a leaf out of your book and just not have sex with anyone.”

Emara gave a hearty laugh. “You don’t need to take a leaf from my book.” She sat on the other side of her mattress. “I need to take a leaf from yours.”

“Oh, Emara,” Breighly warned, “you do not want a leaf from my book. It will give you a sharp tongue and a bad attitude.”

“Well, I already have the sharp tongue thing down,” Emara said, sagging against the bed frame. “But the leaf I seem to be missing when it comes to all of this is confidence.”

Breighly sat for a moment, pondering over what to say. She thought about how she could be constructive or gentle. But Breighly didn’t know how to do that.

“Emara”—The witch’s name on Breighly’s lips pulled her attention away from her fiddling hands.—“you are the fucking Empress of Air. You don’t need a leaf from anyone’s book. You have all the leaves you will ever need. You have a degree of composure and talent that every witch in this kingdom desperately wants, even without being trained. Not only that, but you have also gone and melted the icy heart of the most eligible and unattached bachelor in Huntswood, forging an alliance with him. One that he cares about. You shouldn’t worry about being enough. You are his equal, if not better. You’re both basically magical royalty now.”

Oh, how the gossip travelled, even from the secluded north.

Emara flinched a little, going red again. “The magic world really is a vicious rumour mill.”

Breighly smoothed her hands down her legs before leaning forward. “The rumour mill will spin regardless of what you do, so you may as well do what you want. The Gods aren’t going to condemn you for living your life freely. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.”

“I like that theory,” Emara admitted, the curve of her mouth lifting upwards.

Breighly grinned a little. “I am the gift that just keeps on giving this winter solstice. First the gift from Huntswood, and now a cracking piece of advice. Shit, I am good.” She winked and then looked for the goodies that she had brought. “Okay, empress,” she said with momentum that could shake a small house, “let’s see what you got.” Her eyes darted to the unopened box on the bed. “Get your underwear on and I will show you a thing or two to send your lover wild.”

A laugh burst from Emara’s mouth, so hearty and genuine that Breighly could have sworn she felt a draft of warm air caress her skin.

“What?” Breighly asked. “You asked for my help and my proficiencies. So that is what you are going to get.”

“It’s not that.” Emara dipped her chin. “Although I am a little nervous about what you are about to show me. It’s just…you reminded me of someone, that’s all.” Her dark hair fell around her shoulders as she played with the lining of the bed.

It didn’t take a Spirit Witch to know who Emara Clearwater was talking about. Waylen, her brother, had said the same thing about her. Callyn Greymore. He had said that it was like the two of them, Callyn and Breighly, had been cut from the same cloth.

Whatever that meant.

It was a shame she never got to meet her. She sounded like unchecked fun.