Page 83

She barked out a laugh, ripping another page from her journal before she dabbed her quill in the ink and wrote:

She bit into the tip of her thumb, indecisive if she should rewrite her letter. She wished Cally was here for a little guidance. She would have probably egged her on to write something even more scandalous, so she quickly folded it and threw it into the fire, his name on her lips as she did.

A moment passed, and she headed back to unpacking, looking through everything that needed washing as a laugh rang from a distant room down the corridor—a hearty laugh that made her smile even if it shook the palace.

Another letter lingered above the flames within minutes.

Her heart thudded as she read it over and over. In fact, she read them all again, a few times.

A knock pounded on the door and she gasped. Dropping her letters, she quickly bent down, gathering them, and flung them onto the bed.

“You are too quiet in there,” Artem Stryker’s voice broke through the solid oak door.

“Maybe I was sleeping,” she shouted back, rearranging the letters into a neat pile.

“Or maybe you were up to no good, planning your next attack against my dear Blacksteel friend.”

Her cheeks flushed as she walked over to the door and yanked it open. “And what would you do about it if I were to be planning my next attack?”

Shock hit his face, but he quickly recovered himself.

“Probably join forces with you,” he said with a smirk as he sauntered into her room.

“Um, excuse me, but it is impolite to enter a lady’s room without an invite.”

“Yeah, but we are friends, so it’s different.” Artem’s shoulders danced up a little.

“Uh, I don’t think that was ever declared.”

“Well, it is now. I have just declared it.” He gave her a sharp smile before looking around the room. It wasn’t long before he spied the letters on the bed and, like a lightning bolt, he shot across the room and had one in his hand.

Emara flew forwards towards him, heart in her mouth, and tore it from his large, tattooed hand. “Don’t!”

His grin was irritatingly large. “Are you sending love letters to Blacksteel?” he shouted, eyes wide.

“Shut up!” she hissed, crumpling the note into a small ball. “If you were smart, you would realise that these letters have been received, not sent” She curled her fingers around the note tighter.

“Ooohhh, is Blacksteel sending love letters to you?”

She lowered her voice, but still managed to keep it fierce and unfaltering. “Is there any way I can send a fireletter to the prime to request a change in guard?”

“What’s the matter? Did Torin’s love letters deeply disturb you?” He leaned an arm against the wall, like he was about to listen to her confessions like a true friend.

“No.” She shook her head, eyes bulging. “It’s a request for your annoying ass to be shipped back to where it came from.”

He tutted playfully. “And I was over here thinking we had built a solid friendship, one that our grandchildren would talk about.” He walked over and leaned against the unit of the fireplace. “One that would last for a millennia…”

She tilted her head back and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I honestly don’t know what planet you hunters live on sometimes.”

Another letter appeared in the fireplace.

Artem stole a glance at Emara before he moved like a cobra and snatched it sooner than she could even blink. But this time, the letter came in a different form, with a seal on it, and was not from the most stunningly striking, undeniably talented, beloved hunter.

The seal had a large S imprinted in black wax, with every elemental symbol intertwined.

It was from the supreme.

Her heart almost hit her stomach.