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“He just needs the right person to love,” Naya continued. “He needs someone to keep him on his toes and be his equal in the life that was given to him by the Gods.” She wiped away her own tears. “He took the marriage treaty hard because he was never going to settle for anything less than extraordinary love, and he was convinced he had to.”

Naya’s words hit Emara like a punch to the face. It was something she had vowed to herself long before she was even old enough to understand love. It was something she was unwilling to compromise on. Her heart.

And Torin had clearly vowed the same.

Something shifted within her, causing a wave of untouched emotion to course into her chest and dust off a few snowflakes that surrounded her grieving heart.

For a second, something like remorse and sympathy struck her.

Torin Blacksteel was a warrior with unmatchable swagger and a mouth that spoke profanity like a first language, but he was more vulnerable than she had once thought. She had seen him on the rooftop of this very tower, looking like a broken man. She had seen the concern in his eyes for her as he thought Eli Baxgroll’s blood was her own. And she had even seen the soft, genuine smile when she had made him laugh as they danced at the Uplift together. She knew Torin had a mask. She knew there was a depth to him that she hadn't explored.

But she was unsure if she could marry a man who didn’t love her, even for her coven.

“Are you in love with Gideon?” Naya asked outright.

Another invisible punch struck her across the face and gut.

Am I in love with Gideon?

Oh Gods, she didn’t know how she felt about the middle Blacksteel brother. She had shared moments with him that she had never shared with anyone. Her feelings for him had been real, raw, and honest.

And then he had betrayed her.

“I don’t know. I…” Words failed her.

“If you were in love, true love, then you would know. It would consume every part of your soul, and you would know.” Naya paused, something like unease wrinkling her brow. “What he did…” She pushed her tongue to the roof of her mouth for a moment and then let it relax. “What he did for his father doesn’t change your feelings for him, does it?”

Emara looked out into the city for an answer that she wasn’t going to receive.

Naya whispered, “It hasn’t changed your feelings for Gideon, but what has changed are your feelings for Torin.”

They both stood in silence as she let Emara soak in the truth of her words.

Emara couldn’t help but let the emotions she’d held back since this morning pour from her eyes. Salty tears found their way onto her cheeks and lips. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry here. She crossed her arms over her torso, biting into her cheek.

She had failed.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty for how you feel,” Naya said softly, but with intent. “But you must admit to yourself how you feel, my love, before it’s too late. Holding in your emotions isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Emara wiped the wetness from her face. “It sounds like you know a thing or two about that.”

“More than you will ever know.” Her sapphire eyes glittered once more from under her lashes.

Emara wondered what great stories lingered behind her words, what sacrifices she had made for her family, for her heart, for her sons. What pain had made her so wise.

“All I know is that any of my sons would be lucky to have someone like you, Emara Clearwater. A Blacksteel needs a fierce woman, someone who will stand her ground and fight for what she believes in. Whether that be at Gideon’s side or at Torin’s, I feel in the stars that it’s you.” She exhaled. “And if it is not, then so be it. Fate will tell us in time.”

A strange noise pulled Emara from the hell of her dreams. Dreams of dark wings and screams, of glass smashing and roaring fires, of destruction and obliteration. Nightmares of her own magic. Sitting up quickly, she swept the hair from her face, feeling a clammy sweat thick on her brow, and she tried to slow her breathing.

A booming knock penetrated her door again and she squinted at the window that exposed the city below. The twinkling lights of the city dulled by nightfall told her that she had certainly not slept in for breakfast—or training.

Another impatient knock broke through her heavy breathing.

She hopped out of bed, wondering who it would be at this hour of the morning. She slipped a silk, floor-length robe over her night gown and padded to the door as another boom sounded.

“I am coming,” she almost shouted, tiredness and impatience crawling up her throat.

As she opened the door carefully, a waft of liquor hit her face before she could see who it was. Her immediate instincts had proved her wrong to think it was Torin, as emerald eyes met her stare.