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Of course she knew that answer. She had done that answer.

And as she stood in front of the fire being fussed over, a gentle heat caressed her lips where Torin’s mouth had been; a reminder of where his hands had been on her skin, where his body had lay on hers.

“P.S. Be sure to let me know when you are up for another exploration, angel. There are plenty of landmarks made for all of the other Gods, not just Uttara. I would be more than obliged to pick up where we left off in the Waterfall.”

She drank down the thought. Did she want to go exploring again? Maybe the question wasn’t regarding the ‘if’s’ but the when?

Emara found relief when both girls scurried away to find the perfect dress for this evening’s dinner, and she threw herself onto the bed and thought about how tonight would go. What would they talk about? What would they eat? How was she supposed to present herself to people?

There was still so much unknown to her of the night ahead; it made her feel nauseous. Distracting her mind, she propped herself onto her elbow and pulled her journal towards her. Lifting her feather quill, Emara ran the feathers over her face a couple of times before she began writing.

As she stood, she folded the paper and kissed it once. She said Naya’s name as she dropped it into the fire. Just as it disappeared, Lorta and Kaydence came through the door, opened by Magin. He nodded to her and she gave him a thankful grin. He, too, looked freshly cleaned up. Artem had obviously taken his leave to prepare himself for tonight.

Lorta and Kaydence bowed again, struggling to hold all the fabric that was clutched in their hands.

“You really don’t need to do that every time you see me,” she assured them as she scurried over, trying to help hold up all the gowns that they had brought in.

“I say this with no disrespect, as I appreciate how humble you are,” Lorta said, “but it is witching etiquette to bow before someone of higher status than yourself. It’s how we have been raised.”

“Oh.” Emara winced. “I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just so new to me.” Emara choked over her words. “I wasn’t raised with witch etiquette.” She looked to the ground. “Only human values.”

“We know.” Lorta smiled gently. “But that’s why we are here to help. Naya sent word to our elder that you would need some looking after.”

Emara smiled. Thank Rhiannon for Naya.

“We will keep you right,” Kaydence chirped, like it meant more to her than anything in the world.

“Thank you.” Emara looked over them both. “I need all the help I can get.” She placed a hand on her navel, steadying the waves of nausea that crashed in her belly.

“It will be our pleasure. You will be the empress of our coven soon enough. And then the full kingdom of magic wielders will know that our empress’ bloodline has been restored.” Lorta’s eyes lit up. “The fact that I can assist you in the moments before your ascension gives my life ultimate fulfilment.”

Emara smiled at her, a full smile that she made sure reached her eyes too. For these girls, this was their ultimate achievement… For a sickening moment, a deep-rooted guilt ran over Emara’s skin, and something like shame scratched into her heart.

Here she was, standing in front of girls who had been primed their whole life to assist an empress, and she had been thrust straight to the top of the hierarchy.

That disgusting swirl in her stomach made its way for her throat and Emara did all she could to cough it down. She didn’t deserve this position. She had done nothing to achieve it but be born into the bloodline of her grandmother. A bloodline she hadn’t known existed until recently. Maybe the covens wouldn’t find her worthy. Maybe her grandmother’s visions hadn’t found her worthy and that was why she had kept her from the magic community—to save herself from embarrassment, to stop her ascension.

Maybe, just maybe, that was why her grandmother had stepped down as Supreme.

“Which gown catches your eye?” Kaydence asked, having set all the evening dresses on the bed.

A lost tear tracked down Emara’s face.

“Miss Clearwater, have we offended you?” one of them asked, but the buzzing in Emara’s mind was too much, her vision starting to blur. A bubbling in her stomach and a watering in her mouth had her running to the bathing chamber. She flung herself over the marble sink and hurled up everything in her stomach. She hurled and she spewed, her guts wrenching, her belly riding the tide of her nausea. Hot and cold flashes breached her skin, and dizziness invaded her senses as she panted for breath.

Emara felt a cool flannel at the back of her neck, and someone braided the long strands of her hair back from her face.

“Breathe,” Lorta’s voice drifted to her ears. “I am no healer, but I can get you something to settle the nervous. That’s what this is, right? You are not unwell?”

Emara inhaled as she deflated to the bathroom floor, which was cool to the touch of her burning skin. “Off,” she shouted towards the fire, and to her utter astonishment, the fireplace in the bathroom turned to silver smoke, instantly cooling the room.

Emara hadn’t known she could do that, she had just listened to her body, and the fire had bowed to her command.

Interesting.

Lorta fixed her black cotton dress around her as she lowered herself to the floor. Her hand came up and her fingers danced just as a cold breeze reached Emara’s face, cooling her.

Air. The element of Air.