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He stilled after his weapon belt was secured. His jaw tightened. “Normally, I would never say no to you.” He looked up at her. “But this time, I can’t have you with me.”

“But I have been getting better. Stronger, quicker,” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “You said so yourself. I can actually fight now.”

“Emara, you are just going to have to trust me on this one. You are under the Supreme’s roof, and I might be able to hide what we do in Huntswood, but this is the north, her territory. I won’t risk that for you. She could see it as a rejection of your title.”

Hurt flashed across her face at first, but then an understanding set in. Her brow pulled together, and she looked away from him.

“Besides, you have never fought in the conditions of a mountain like this either. Especially in the dead of winter. In the dark. One wrong move, and you are off the edge of it.” She nodded and a sharp pain struck through his heart. He didn’t want to deny her anything, but he couldn’t be distracted on the mountain top. And he would be with her by his side, untrained in the terrain of these landscapes. It was always the harshest to fight in, deadly and unforgiving; it had cost a lot of men their lives in the selection. He walked towards her after he had fastened the last button on his tunic. His hand cupped her chin and she leaned into it. “I won’t be long, I promise,” he breathed. “And then we will pick right back up where we left off, okay?”

Her eyes flashed to him and he wondered if she knew what question he had been about to ask. “You promise?”

“I promise you.”

She leaned in and kissed him before her hands gripped onto his neck like she was trying to silently persuade him not to go. If he had any sense, he would send Magin and stay here with her, but he wanted to end the lives of the scum that had already stolen too many moments from him.

And he would. Many of them. All of them.

“Stay in this room,” Torin asked her in a soft command. “Please. The wards are up around the palace, so it’s safe here. Do not step outside these walls. Promise me.”

“I will, that’s my promise to you.” Her throat bobbed.

She would be waiting for him when he came back. And then he would ask her to be his in a way that promised forever.

Pacing up and down the room was doing absolutely nothing for her sanity. The deep breathing and relaxation techniques weren’t helping either. The pulse in her neck drove the sounds of her racing heartbeat into her head, causing dizziness.

She was internally screaming.

Oh Gods. The churning in her stomach increased.

Heading to the window, she tried looking out, but the night was still a murky black blanket. The moon seemed like it was trying to fight her way through to aid the hunt.

It had to be approaching midnight or just past the hour, and Torin had been gone an age already.

Or so it seemed.

She remembered what it had been like when she had been awaiting Gideon’s return from the Blood Moon battle, how she had felt in those moments. So much had changed since then. She could fight, for a start, and wield magic. She was an empress of a coven, and she had just given herself to Torin Blacksteel. Her heart had chosen him, and he had chosen her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t worry about Gideon anymore, she absolutely did, because he would be out there if he wasn’t guarding Sybil.

She needed them to all be okay, Kellen included.

Maybe this was what he had envisioned, an army of demons at the palace. And maybe they weren’t solely for her, but to destroy them all. However, Torin didn’t know any of that, and a pang of guilt slashed across her heart. She had kept Kellen’s vision from him. And she would continue to keep his secret, even if that meant she was at risk.

I won’t be long, I promise. And then we will pick right back up where we left off, okay?

Tonight had been beautiful and remarkable. She and Torin had pushed away their impending problems, and finally broken the walls down to let each other in. She had seen his want and need for her in his eyes; it was more than lust; it was deeper than that.

Before he had been interrupted, Torin had kneeled beside the bed, like he was going to say something to her—something with meaning, judging by the look on his face and the flush of his cheeks. A feeling in her gut told her it would be monumental when he returned.

Anticipation for his hasty return swelled inside her as she looked up to the moon fighting through the clouds.

The door opened to her room abruptly and Magin stumbled through the threshold. If she hadn’t been so startled by his entrance, she might have thought it odd that he had just walked in. She knew that wasn’t protocol. He knocked every time.

“Magin?” she asked, concern in her voice.

His face paled like white flour and he choked. Blood spewed from his mouth until it was running down his neck, staining his grey tunic.

“Magin!” Emara screamed, her feet taking off quickly to reach him.