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Deleine was terrified.

Emara found that last thread of fear that lay in her soul and forged it into steel as she said, “I really wish you would stop running your mouth and just get this over with. If my father really is who you say he is, do you think he would be pleased that you have failed in your attempts to deliver me twice? For the highest regarded witch in the kingdom, you don’t seem to be good at keeping up your end of the bargain.”

The Supreme’s hands flew out again, but instead of stopping Emara’s air supply, she allowed a spout of flames to soar from her palms, mixing with the darkness of the festering portal. The fire circled around Emara before forming into the shape of a snake. The fiery face of the serpent weaved towards Emara, but she was still stuck against the limestone, unable to move away from the serpent’s path. Emara let out a scream that broke through the room as the snake hissed out its terrible tongue, the flames licking her bare thigh. Another scream shattered from her throat as the fire creature did it again.

The pain was so overpowering that her breathing stopped. She held in another scream, trying to manage her agony. Tears burned like fire drops in her eyes, blinding her.

The serpent went to strike again, and she screamed before it hit her.

Something broke against the doors from the outside like a body or something strong, maybe a weapon.

It must have been concerning enough to have caught the Supreme’s attention; her head snapped towards the commotion outside, and the fiery snake vanished, dissolving into ash that dropped like snowflakes over Emara. The heat from the phantom beast disappeared, and a cool rush swept over her clammy face.

Emara took a breath in and looked down at her leg where the beast had burned her skin.

Nothing. No mark or wound.

It had been a trick, Deleine toying with her mind.

Suddenly, a man and his death scream could be heard from outside the doors, and then a snapping sound. Emara fought down the sickness that stirred in her stomach to turn and see the doors burst apart like a battering ram had pummelled them open.

She let out a small cry as Torin Blacksteel stood in the doorway, both swords dripping with crimson blood. The gore from whoever he had just killed lay at his feet as he stepped over the body and into the room. His eyes found hers and the burning rage simmered for a second before igniting fully.

He knew she was alive, Emara realised, and that’s all he had needed. She let out a little whimper as her hope died when she remembered how many guards stood in this room. Warrior of Thorin or not, he was only one person.

A curse left her lips as well as a sob.

He was going to die.

“Ah, the hunter named after the God of the Sun and War,” the Supreme taunted. “I thought you might show up.”

Torin stepped into the dim light of the room, looking like war itself. Blood streaked his face, and tunic, and his dark hair looked dishevelled from battle. He held a sword in each hand.

He snarled, “Let her go, and I won’t carve that wrinkled skin from your face and make myself a new case for my swords.”

Deleine sniggered, her features contorting into something truly wicked. “You won’t get close to my face, hunter,” she spat. “I have lined myself with lethal reinforcements.” Her eyes drifted casually to the guards around the room. “Should you try and attack me, they are under my command to kill you. All I need to do is raise a finger, and they will destroy you. You might know a few of them.” Her dark eyes winked. “They are your brethren.”

He let out a laugh that sounded like an insult. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Torin growled. “Hunters are not your personal play toys. They do not answer to you. Stand down, men, I am not here to take you down. Only her.”

When the other hunters didn’t move, the Supreme smiled. “No, but I’ve made deals to grant them immortality when the underworld rises. Their loyalties lie elsewhere now.”

“Fucking cowards.” Torin growled at his brethren with splattered blood down his face, the blood of the brothers he had cut down to get here. He was menacing and wild.

Deleine walked over towards the guards. “You see, magic has two sides. One, which is full of good intent and used for pure reasons. The cost of it is fatal. You will lay down your life to protect a God’s magic, and in return, you get restrictions and rules.” She slid her eyes back to Torin. “Or you could form a dark alliance and be promised magic that can never die. It knows no bounds, no limits. You could be immortal.”

“If you think that doing deals with Veles—”

“Veles?” The Supreme laughed as she repeated the name. “Veles is not the King of the Underworld, my blue-eyed boy, Balan is. Your father really should update you more in those inefficient briefings of yours. Whilst Veles rests, Balan will reign.” Another cruel smile tugged her lips over her teeth. “In fact, speaking of fathers, did our beautiful Empress of Air ever tell you who her father is?”

The Supreme’s laugh filled the air again, and the flames from the black candles hit an all-time high.

“Please, don’t do this. I beg you to stop,” Emara cried out.

Not yet. Not here. Not like this. Her body shook against the floor. She was unable to even meet Torin’s gaze. She wanted to beg the Supreme to stop talking, but she knew she wasn’t going to be given that luxury.

The Supreme was going to take great pride in telling Torin who her father was.

What if Torin couldn’t look at her? What if he was disgusted by her blood? What if he tried to kill her?