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“I didn’t know the tower had rooms this…pretty.” Emara could feel her eyes bulging, but she didn’t care; she just loved that she had her very own bathing chamber.

He chuckled. “Naya will be just along the corridor from you. She liked this wing of the tower enough to decorate it in her own style, and we haven’t changed anything since her departure.” He looked at Emara, and his chin dipped. “I will see to it that all your things are brought from your old room.”

Oh Gods, she hadn’t even thought about everything that would still be in there; her books, her clothes, and her keepsake box had all been abandoned. It was such a human oversight in this magical hurricane of madness.

“Thank you for offering, Marcus, but I am sure I can collect my items. I don’t want to burden you.”

“No, I insist.” He held his hand out as if to stop her. “An empress of the magical world gets these things done for her.”

She lowered her head. “I would hardly call myself that.”

He let out a small, huffed laugh. “You will get used to it.”

Pressing her lips together lightly, Emara formed a tiny smile.

Will I?

Turning, she cast her eyes over to the windows, really taking in the city view from this room. Before she knew it, her feet had travelled over to the deep windowsill.

It was stunning.

She could see the architecture of the city from here; the buildings, the workplaces, and the homes built around the old temples. Everything about it was combining the old with the new, making it seem vibrant and magical. However, she recognised that she hadn’t really seen Huntswood fully, just the markets, and excitement managed to flicker in her heart at the prospects of being down there, exploring and taking in the culture of the city. Quickly, she added this view to her list of things to be thankful for. She was thankful that she was alive to see this, to experience this view, and imagine all the possibilities that were submerged in Huntswood. All the life…

Her chest ached.

Cally would have loved this room and the wonders of looking down onto the city. Gods, she would have only taken one look out this window before she fled into the city to seek out a seamstress or a tavern. Emara placed a hand over her mouth to stop a cry escaping as she choked back tears.

“Emara,” Marcus’ voice croaked.

She turned to face him again, pulling back the emotional wave that pushed into the shore of her eyes. She had cried in front of the hunting clan enough. If she was to earn an inch of their respect as a member of a magical faction, then she would have to clamp down on her emotions. She would have to be like Naya, like her grandmother.

“I am truly sorry about the loss of your friend.” The unexpected words knocked the air from her lungs. He continued, “She was pure sunshine, a light in the tower that made us all smile.” He lowered his gaze. “Even in those ridiculous outfits and sinful shoes, she gave us all hope that things are changing. It doesn’t matter how long she was here with us, she still made an impact.” He looked at her again, catching her gaze. “I hope she gets the justice she deserves.”

If Emara was going to consider being an empress of a coven, an influential witch in the kingdom, then maybe she could instil justice herself. Her words stuck in her throat, but she strangled them out. “Justice will prevail, Marcus. I have faith in the Gods.”

“It’s all we can hope for in a world where evil attempts to poison everything good,” Marcus said before walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder. His dark brown skin seemed flawless in the open light, and his brown eyes gleamed with a promise that was both bold and wise. “You are still under the protection of the Blacksteel Hunting Clan, and no one makes a move against us without paying the price.”

The words from Marcus should have shocked her. He had always seemed friendly and generous. But his words marked a pledge of something darker. Something that she felt in the veins of her own heart. Something violent.

Whoever was an enemy of hers was now an enemy of his. They were an enemy of the Blacksteel Clan, and she was sure they would know it.

She nodded in confirmation that she understood him.

“Settle in,” he said, shifting on his feet before heading towards the door. “If you need anything at all, just call on us.”

“Thank you, Marcus.” This time, her words couldn’t hide the emotion lining her tongue. “That means more than you know.”

He smiled and shut the doors behind him before she slumped against the window to stare out at the Kingdom of Caledorna, a kingdom that she could represent as an empress.

The briefing room in the tower was packed full of hunters old and young. It was obvious to Torin that word had been sent to bring even the oldest of hunters to the tower. Gods, it looked like a few of them had come out of retirement for this.

However, the one hunter he hadn't seen was his father, and he didn’t know if that made him relieved or on edge.

Probably the latter.

Marcus and Gideon flanked either side of him as they sat at a desk much too small for warriors of Thorin, waiting on Viktir’s arrival. Kellen claimed the chair in front, running a small throwing knife over his fingers, aloof as always. And as more and more hunters arrived, squeezing into any spare space that they could find, the more it royally pissed him off.

Didn’t they have training rooms they could use, rooms more suitable for men of their size?