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“When was the last time you slept?” she asked quietly, ignoring his previous statement.

“Properly?” His eyes flicked to the floor. “I can’t remember.”

Emara could see it all over his face. She could see the guilt of his betrayal and how stealing the Resurrection Stone from her had truly turned his heart upside down. But she wasn’t ready to even speak of what Gideon had stolen from her in his mission for Viktir Blacksteel. She wasn’t ready to explore that emotional plunge just yet. Her heart was in too much pain.

He opened his mouth to speak, but if she heard his explanation, his apology, or an attempt to defend himself, she might cause the whole world to shake. She could feel it bubbling like a cauldron under her skin—her magic.

So instead, she said, “Maybe I would like a hot drink.”

After all, there was a nip in the air.

A glisten of hope twinkled in his eyes, but it was gone before it could fully ignite. Maybe he was also hoping to avoid the conversation that was very much needed between them. Especially when he looked like he could slip into a coma of exhaustion any minute now.

“I could make us some camomile tea? I am sure my mother has some already brewed to be served. It’s warm and soothing, normally a good remedy for sleep.” He walked towards her, and she moved instantly, jerking back. He froze at her recoil and put out a hand. “I am not—”

“I know,” was all Emara could muster as she looked away. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her, but any quick movement sent fear through her heart. Emara placed her arms over herself as he walked past her to the pot hanging over the stove.

“Good morning,” a delicate voice broke through the tension. “I thought I heard some voices.” Naya Blacksteel stood in the threshold of the door, folding the wrappings of a fleece night coat around her small frame. Her short curly hair was pinned atop her head, a few chocolate brown curls protruding out from the fastenings. “Emara, my love…” Her kind azure eyes that reminded her so much of Torin’s glanced her over. “Take a seat at the dining table and we will get you something hot to drink.” There was something about her gentle tone that could command anyone to do anything.

Emara sat quickly.

Gideon greeted his mother as she took his place at the stove. “You look exhausted, Gideon, my darling. You must head to bed after breakfast.”

“I will,” he reassured her as he shook a hand through his hair. It was slightly damp from the weather outside.

“Have I missed breakfast?” Kellen Blacksteel sauntered in, a tired smile on his face. “You always said I can’t miss the most important meal of the day, Mother.”

“I am absolutely positive you wouldn’t miss it.” Naya laughed gently as the teapot came to a boil. “There is always fresh food on the table here.”

As he sat at the table, a pair of stunningly unique eyes locked onto Emara’s face. Unspoken words drifted between them, speaking of what she had witnessed at the Uplift. They had never fully broached what she had seen or heard.

They had never had the opportunity to.

He smiled hesitantly, but she tried not to linger too long.

What Kellen needed to know was that she would never breathe a single word of what she’d seen of him at the Uplift. She wouldn’t even have told Cally if she were still here.

A sharp, sickening pain clenched tightly around her heart. As she moved her hand over her chest to stop her heart from crumbling, Kellen looked up at her as if sensing her pain, then avoided eye contact.

If only she could just reassure him that she didn’t judge him for what he was hiding about himself. It made no difference to her if he preferred a male’s to a female’s company. Emara had always believed in love being love no matter the gender. But it was clear from what he had said at the Uplift that the hunting families weren’t conditioned to see love so freely.

Suddenly, her heart hurt for him too.

“Did my invite to the morning breakfast party get lost in transit?” Torin swaggered through the kitchenette door. Emara had never thought she would see the day when she was so relieved to see the oldest Blacksteel brother.

He winked at her as he caught her gaze. All signs of how tender he had been last night were removed, and there was a wicked glint in his eye.

For a second, Emara was in awe of how he could switch his masks so easily. She wondered if he could teach her the art of it.

“All of my boys around my kitchen table so early in the morning; the Gods must have heard my endless prayers.” Naya’s smile brightened the room. “Bless the Mother God. I will make eggs and toast for breakfast. I may even have syrup somewhere.”

“You”—Torin’s hand enveloped his mother’s small shoulder—“are an absolute deity of a woman. I am famished and there is nothing like your cooking.” He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. As he bit into it, he checked over Emara like he was searching for any signs of her struggling. “The men of the tower miss it deeply, Mother.” He looked at her again. “They always say how the kitchen ran better when you were there.”

Naya laughed and began cracking eggs into a pan on the stove. The sizzling was instant. “I do miss your charm in the morning more, my love.”

He dipped his chin as a little smile graced his lips. Emara had never seen such a look on his face before.

“Where did you sleep last night?” Kellen asked Torin, also dipping into the bowl of fruit as they awaited Naya’s cooking. “When I woke up, you weren’t in the armchair.”