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Emara reckoned a day, at most.

She just needed time to get used to this level of…protection.

It dawned on her suddenly, as she watched all other hunters scattering like working ants, readying their travel kits onto their horses, that someone was missing.

Where was the tattooed part of her cluster?

Emara hadn’t had so much as had a glimpse of him since last night at La Luna. He had been showing interest in Breighly Baxgroll, but as free and wild as Breighly was, she had been kissing someone else before Emara left, so she doubted he would have waited around.

Emara considered how liberating it must be to carry yourself in a way that wasn’t deemed acceptable by society yet owning every part of it. That was who Breighly was—who Cally had been. They werefree, unapologetic, and strong.

And that was who Emara longed to be—needed to be.

Closing her eyes, she took in the pain that she felt in her heart and turned it into something worthwhile. She turned into a hardness. She turned the anguish into strength, pain into steel. Taking a deep breath, she uttered a prayer of self-confidence to any God who would listen, that the courage she had now would stay with her on this journey. She was going to need it.

Before her dark flames could melt away the newfound, liberating steel in her heart, Artem Stryker marched into the stables, looking a little dishevelled. His cloak was askew, and his russet hair wasn’t neat like it had been yesterday.

He had guilt plastered all over his face, and Emara could see his panting breath swirl up into the morning. Magin turned and nodded, but Emara noticed that Torin stood statuesque, his eyes narrowing.

Artem was the first to speak. “I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

“You haven’t.” Torin’s words were forceful, yet calm. Calm in the way the sea rolled back and forth before the storm breached the shore. “Had you been any later, we would have had a real problem, Stryker.” Torin’s jaw hardened and the crease in his brow dragged together, causing a menacing glaze to film in his eyes. “Ready your horse.”

Artem glanced over in Emara’s direction, and a plea of forgiveness took up residence in his eyes. Heart beating fast at how serious Torin was, Emara lowered her lashes and chin in a subtle nod of forgiveness towards the latecomer.

“It won’t happen again,” he told her as shame crept into his stare and hardened his jaw. “You have my word.”

“It’s quite alright, Artem,” Emara reassured him. “We were only setting up the horses for travel.” She looked over them, pondering a thought. “Come to think of it, there are only three left for us. We are missing one.”

All of the hunters had taken their horses and were on their way, leaving only three horses for her cluster in the stables. They all stood in silence as Emara’s point lingered like frost in the air.

Torin dragged a murderous stare from Artem’s face and looked her over. The danger that had lingered just a few seconds ago was replaced with a slight smile, and his features softened. And so did the tension that surrounded them. “That’s because we only need three horses.”

“But there are four of us,” she pointed out, glancing around them like her calculations had deceived her. Surely, one of the clan hadn’t taken her horse. Torin had mentioned this journey would have been a lot easier by portal, however, it was now forbidden. So they were going by horseback, as the challenging terrain wasn’t suitable for wagons.

“I know there are four of us,” he said, and his eyes sparkled with delight. Emara knew she wasn’t going to like what he was thinking.

She flicked her eyes over to Artem and then Magin; they both looked like they could burst into laughter any moment. She had to give it to Magin, though, he at least was trying his hardest to remain neutral, unlike Artem, who was now sniggering.

Was there some sort of inside joke that she wasn’t party to?

She looked back to Torin, who also had a smug grin.

“If you think for one second,” she began, “that I am riding on a horse with you this whole journey, you have another thing coming.”

Artem let out a full-blown laugh and then straightened, pinning his lips together like a child that was about to be reprimanded. Emara shot him a glare so sharp she wished it could have pierced him (just a little).

Torin pulled his gaze from his brethren and his icy glare pinned her where she stood. “That’s exactly what I am thinking.” His head tilted slightly. “An empress requires to be close to her guards at all times.”

She wanted to kick him into next week. She couldn’t ride the full way to the Amethyst Palace on a horse with Torin. She had too many strange feelings after their encounter last night, and she would like to forget all about them. She had almost lost control of herself, her good mind, at his words, his touch.

She lifted her chin to match his. “I would rather walk the full way than be sat on a horse the entire time with you.”

Torin turned to his audience. “Do you see the way she treats her lead guard?” His wicked smile appeared, showcasing both dimples, and her heart stammered. Artem’s eyes widened and Magin looked sideways at Emara, telling her he wanted to be kept out of this. Torin turned his attention back to her, bringing down his dark eyebrows theatrically. “Why can’t you be nice to me? I thought we made a truce last night.”

Heat burned in her cheeks. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

He winked at her, knowing she knew exactly what he was referring to.