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Regardless of how much wine he consumed, he wouldn’t sleep, not while the puzzle of what happened at the Uplift lay incomplete in his mind. He couldn’t relax until it made some kind of sense.

The swirling reflection of Emara’s face and the darkness of her eyes that night haunted him even more when he was alone with his own thoughts. How she had sobbed. How she had raged. How she had fought and wielded not only her magic, but a weapon too.

He took another sip of wine and his thumb trailed over the stem of the chalice.

Gideon was taking his turn keeping watch over the cottage, making sure no one discovered Emara’s whereabouts. Even though he’d insisted on taking the night shift, Torin hadn’t argued. It would allow his brother time to clear his mind in the quiet of the forest night. And it also meant they weren’t in the same room as each other.

Because you are my brother. And because I am in love with her. Because I need to know that you can lie next to her every single night for the rest of your life and give her your whole heart. Because I can. If you can, then I will walk away. But if you can't promise me to give her everything, then I will fight for her.

His throat tightened as the memory of the last conversation Torin had had with Gideon floated through his mind. He let out a sigh. Declaring Emara betrothed to him in front of the magic community—in front of his brother, who loved her—might have been a last resort to save her life, but he wouldn't take it back, even if it had hurt Gideon. Because it was the truth, and it meant that the clan would have protected her should shit have gone sideways. His clan would always protect a woman who was linked to a brethren in an alliance. Especially the second-in-command, who would one day be commander.

However, he would maybe have to handle Emara’s emotions with a little more care than he had his brother’s. She was vulnerable and hurting right now. She didn’t need the burden of a fucking marriage alliance.

Pouring the ruby-coloured wine into his chalice, Torin stood for a moment, his muscles tense.

What annoyed him the most was that a human had been at the forefront of the destruction caused at the Uplift.

A human.

He might have been an elite human, but he was a human, nonetheless. With no training in combat or magic, Taymir Solden had managed to sever the protective magical wards that surrounded any hunting or witching property to get into the Uplift. He had commanded a small army of demons to destroy everything, and he had managed to kill three of the most powerful witches in the Kingdom of Caledorna.

He’d even out-bartered the Hunters in the negotiation to take Emara.

Elite-born were often good negotiators and well-educated, but they didn’t bear any magic or power that could properly influence a full room. The biggest power they held was the amount of coin they controlled, making profits off their labourers and the sales of their raw materials. They didn’t tend to take centre stage in the magic world.

But Taymir Solden had.

Taymir Solden, the elite heir of the coal and diamond industry across Caledorna, had revealed that he was working on behalf of the God of Darkness. He had implied that in return for delivering Emara Clearwater to the Underworld, he would be given immortality as a reward. He had been promised by someone that he would be granted the power of immortality.

But by whom?

Torin wasn’t convinced that that was the truth. Taymir was too insignificant to be approached by the real Dark God, Veles, or his direct disciples. So who was he actually working for?

Torin swirled the wine around the chalice, wishing it were rum in a crystal glass as he considered the pieces of evidence he did have.

Taymir being promised immortality meant one thing—the lore was true. Meaning, Veles had obtained the Immortality Stone and was using it to strengthen his army, using it to ensure that the darkness remained very much alive.

His next sip of wine escalated into a mouthful.

The King of the Underworld had at least one of the stones which could free him of his cage, unleashing him upon the world above. The world Torin had taken an oath to protect. The problem was, he didn’t know how many of the ancient stones the Dark God had attained during his army’s pillages over millennia.

Could the Immortality Stone be the only one that he had?

At least Torin knew one thing for sure: the God of Darkness didn’t have the Resurrection Stone. Viktir Blacksteel did. And the Blacksteel Clan would be protecting it from now on. However, if Taymir was working for the Dark Army, then why had he chosen Emara over the ancient relic that could aid Veles’ freedom?

Yes, she was from a witching bloodline, one that had been powerful throughout millennia, but what did she have to do with the King of the Underworld’s schemes and plots to demolish a kingdom and raise the Underworld? Why her?

These types of questions had eaten Torin Blacksteel alive for days.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did. There had to be another piece of the puzzle that he was missing. To whomever Taymir was working for, it seemed that Emara Clearwater was more important than a relic that would potentially see the destruction of the world as they knew it.

Interesting.

But who was the elite working for? Surely, it wasn’t the Minister of Coin, Taymir’s human faction leader. Although, greed and destruction did go hand in hand with the elite, so that was a possibility,

Torin tapped his finger against the chalice.

Taymir had evidently been out of his depth, a mere puppet on strings. Torin was certain someone else had been pulling the strings in his little performance at the manor. And his bets were now on the Minister of Coin. It had to be. But for what reason? What did he gain? Did the human prime member fancy living forever too? How much wealth could be obtained over several lifetimes?