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A little gasping noise from Kaydence confirmed he wasn’t.

She ignored everyone’s glare and placed a hand atop his arm.

“Are you ready?” he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear this time.

“As much as I will ever be.” She swallowed a breath that was meant to exhale from her body.

“I am here. If you need me, just signal.” His stunning eyes locked on hers sincerely.

She nodded, not even sure she was breathing as they walked into the hallway.

She pulled her gaze from his and tried focusing on the steps of the men who walked in front of her.

After a while, they came to a large set of doors at the end of the corridor, and she had to tilt her head back to see where they ended. Was everything in this palace gigantic?

Torin lowered his arm, and she slid her curled fingers from where they had been wrapped around his arm to her navel.

“Signal if you need me,” he said as they waited to enter into the grand ball of the Amethyst Palace.

“What kind of signal?” Emara looked up at him, her mouth going dry.

“You could blow me a kiss.” A dimple appeared in his cheek.

“Not going to happen.”

His eyebrows danced up in delight. “How about you say…” He paused for a moment before his eyes flashed with carnal fun. “How about you say waterfall?”

She rolled her lips in the effort not to laugh. Something about being with Torin in this moment took a weight off her chest. Maybe it was because he was doing everything in his power to distract her from the nerves that threatened to flatten her.

She appreciated it.

“Waterfall it is, then,” she agreed, swallowing any remaining trepidation.

A second later, the ballroom doors opened like a gust of wind had blown them ajar. Light chatter filled the room and a scent of sage and baked meats swirled to her nose. A long table that striped down the middle of the room displayed candles, floral arrangements, wine, and food of every kind. She heard a sweet sigh of relief from Artem, who had already started walking faster to take his seat. Looking around, she saw both men and women, none of which had yet sat down. They lingered around, mingling with each other. Everything seemed rather sophisticated.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Marcus Coldwell in his guard uniform. Knowing that Marcus stood beside the soon-to-be Empress of Earth, she suspected that Gideon wouldn’t be far. Marcus caught sight of them arriving and paused his conversation with the almost empress.

“Blacksteel.” He grinned from ear to ear. “It’s so good to see that the cold journey didn’t steal you from us.”

“Mother Nature doesn’t have the guts to take me, Marcus. No one has.” Torin winked and bowed. Under different circumstances, they would have greeted each other with something less formal.

“I think someone has the guts.” Marcus smiled in Emara’s direction. “Speaking of that someone—Miss Clearwater.” He took her hand like he always did, his kind eyes warming, standing out from his professional mask only for a second. She politely bowed her head to him. “It’s a pleasure, as always.”

“You too, Marcus.”

His eyes coasted over her team of hunters. “It’s good to see you are keeping all three of these rogues in line.”

“Magin is by far the best behaved.” She laughed, looking towards Magin. He smiled back at her. Artem threw her a scowl.

“May I please beg your pardon?” Marcus said abruptly as the witch of House Earth approached. “Emara, please meet Sybil Lockhart.”

The girl smiled and bowed her head almost shyly. Her gown was a unique brassy colour that clashed against her pale skin, yet it suited her slender frame. Beautiful green and white flowers weaved through her braided hair, that burned bright red like autumnal leaves and she, too, had a painted lip, hers of soft rose. Her face was plain and sprinkled with freckles, her features neat, other than her vast eyes. She was pretty, with the kind of beauty that normally went unnoticed.

“It’s lovely to officially meet you,” Sybil said.

When she spoke, her voice reminded Emara of someone older than she looked. “Likewise,” Emara said as she took a bow of her own.

After the others were acquainted with the Earth Witch, the hunters struck up a conversation of their own, about how the cold had reminded them of the Selection, where they had camped, and what route they had taken. Sybil had come from a village that neighboured the Solden Coal Mines.