Chapter 10

D on't worry, he'll come," Artem reassured her as his broad shoulder bumped her own. "I know he will."

Members of the prime and magical factions had begun pouring through the old-fashioned mansion doors into the room that was holding the summit. This was one of the stately homes of the Minister of Coin, and you could tell that old wealth had decorated the room. White stone columns stood in four corners, intertwined with gold ribbon, and a glass chandelier glittered in the middle of the room, hanging like a diamond earring. The wooden floors shone like a pretty coin, and paintings of elder elite members were hanging on the walls, framed by gold plates. A humongous oak desk sat at the top of the room, five chairs stationed around it. It was always five chairs, no matter that there were no longer five prime members. Benches had been set out for the other attendees of today's summit, and in true elite style, they had maids bringing everyone refreshments.

The room was noisy, full of chatter and footsteps, making Emara even more nervous that she would need to stand in front of these people and ask for something that had never been done in the history of Caledorna. Her stomach increased its churning dramatically.

Noting the Empress from House Fire walking through the doors first, Emara gave a nod in her direction, followed by a smile. Rya Otterburn returned the polite gesture, her face still set harshly as always. Emara had been thinking about her encounter with the fire empress since the gathering in the Fairlands, and she disliked how she didn't know where she stood with her. She was so incredibly hard to read. Rya didn't trust her fully, that was clear, but Emara supposed that might always be the case. The scorched black bone of her crown sat jagged on Rya's head. The crown sparkled with black and red rubies that looked like they contained tiny embers. She did look regal. Maybe she would bloom into the supreme soon and this unwanted rivalry could end between them.

Kerrix Bellfield was the next witch to stroll through the room with her guards. She took a seat down from Rya and her house, a few members from her coven appearing to support her. Kerrix's enchanting crown was wedged into her moonlight-coloured hair. When Emara looked at the crown of spirit, she could see that it was the thinnest of them all, held together with fragments of coin, gold chain, and crystals. Although it didn't sit like a crown, high in her hair, it fell over her forehead beautifully, glistening under the light. Her eyes were alert, like the ancient spirits of this room were telling her a few tales.

The Empress of Water floated into the room just after House Spirit, her beautiful sandy hair weighed down by the crown of coral, seaweed, shells, and pearls that sat gracefully on her head. She was aloof as always, and beside her sat her husband, the only member of Clan Coldwell to have attended.

Just as Emara was about to flex her skills in spirit magic, hoping to find an energy she knew, Breighly Baxgroll strolled through the door, wide-eyed and flanked by her pack.

Emara stood.

Her pack was menacing, full of muscle and fangs, and the wolves always came to these events like a unit of force. Breighly wasn't always in tow with them, but her brothers were. There was a sharpness in their eyes and an edge about how they looked, especially in a place as pretentious as this one. The Baxgroll wolves were more frightening visually than in real life. They had always been nothing but kind and welcoming to her. But she knew that could change in a heartbeat if she was considered a threat.

Casting her golden eyes over the crowd, Breighly spotted Emara and smiled. She winked one of her dangerous winks and bowed her head full of golden hair in a sign of respect for the empress. She took a last scan of the crowd before taking a seat with her brothers, Roman and Waylen, who looked intrigued. She wondered if Breighly had told them her reasons for being here or if it would come as a complete surprise to them. Her father, the alpha of every Shifter in the kingdom, took his place at the end of the room in one of the five faction chairs.

More hunters, Fae, witches and elite piled into the room, and Emara had to almost drown out the chatter with the buzz of her own nerves to concentrate on her task. It reminded her of being under trial for the events of the Amethyst Palace.

It had been a gruelling few days when the hearing had taken place, and sometimes she had seen a different outcome in her nightmares. One where they had found her guilty of treason for killing her supreme, or one where the prime found out about her blood and deemed her a threat to the kingdom. In the same dreams, Viktir Blacksteel had arranged her execution, and she had always awoken drenched in her sweat before he brought down the almighty sword on her head.

But none of that had happened, and the prime had found Emara nothing but innocent. Having the Blacksteels' influence in the magical society had helped a lot, and the fact that the other empresses had sympathised and praised her also went in her favour.

Emara shuddered thinking about it.

As she readjusted her focus, she caught a glimpse of sapphire eyes filled with agony and black hair that shone like a bottomless well of ink.

Her breath caught at the sight of him. He was here.

He had come to the summit.

Torin Blacksteel stood in the threshold of the door, aloof but powerful, his body stealing the light that tried to come through the door.

The happiness in her heart was short lived as she noted the bruises on his face and the cuts on his lip and above his eye. His cheeks were swollen and his eyes were distant, vacant, his thoughts gone to someplace she dreaded to even conjure in her own mind. He looked tortured.

He had clearly refused a healer, and Naya would be furious with him.

But he had come like she had asked.

A swell of hope formed in her heart as she took in his silvery-grey guard uniform, and her gaze travelled where he did as Torin walked across the centre of the room, reaching a seat a few feet in front of Emara at the opposite side of the hall. At the opposite side of Viktir.

It was a telling tale that he did not sit with his clan, with this commander, but on his own.

Torin was in direct view of her but not too close either.

She swallowed the thickness in her throat as their eyes met for a few seconds, her heart screaming in her chest, then he clasped his busted hands in his lap and looked towards the prime.

Oberon, King of Fae, had taken his seat, as had the Chief Commander, Aerrick Stryker, and Emara had to admit it was strange for the supreme to not be sitting amongst them.

Suddenly, the room was too warm and sticky sweat began beading on her skin. Her heart started pounding, and it felt like the ceiling of this huge mansion was falling. The supreme wasn't sitting on her throne because Emara had been the beginning of her end. Her death.

Rumours had circulated around Huntswood about Emara being the next supreme, which was entirely ridiculous. No wonder Rya had pulled her aside at the previous meeting to warn her about the fire witch's intentions for the crown. Emara was struggling to keep above water as it was, never mind adding the title of supreme onto her shoulders. It was just rumours. No jolt of instant power had happened, no awakening, no Rhiannon, Goddess of the Moon and Dreams, had appointed her to the Five Covenal Throne. Nothing…

Nothing but a growing darkness.

If Emara had to take a bet on who the next supreme would be, it was Rya Otterburn; she had already mastered every element, strong in every single one. Maybe a witch with dark blood in her veins couldn't be the supreme. The king issss coming for youuuuu. The demon from the Ashdale Forest flashed into her mind.

Balan of The Underworld.

Her father.

Emara would do anything to keep him in his cage, exactly where her mother had put him, but she needed the stones that her mother had worked with to guarantee that he stayed put. However, the problem was, she didn't even know which ones her mother had used.

Suddenly, her chest felt too heavy—heavy with her blood, her secrets, her grief, her guilt…

Emara needed air. The prime could wait—or start without her. There would be other people to voice their requests today, not just her. Before she could rise, Artem Stryker placed a hand on her arm.

"Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay." His golden eyes found hers, and he gave her a friendly smile. "You've got this."

She did as she was told, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Sybil," was all Artem said before the earth witch's calming hands were on hers, wiping away the distress.

Her friend whispered as she squeezed her hand, "Stay calm, I am here. You have so much support today."

Emara nodded, acknowledging the steel in her heart and the truth of knowing her support was there.

"You are powerful and in control." Sybil's soothing voice sent vibrations of calm through her.

Artem, Naya, Gideon, Marcus, Sybil, Breighly

They wouldn't let her fail.

She looked up to see Torin's icy gaze across the room, studying her face.

She could tell he knew something was wrong, something in his eyes giving that away. It was like he was fighting with himself to go to her or stay seated.

He wouldn't want to highlight her panic or cause for concern, so he stayed in his seat, his eyes burning through her soul. His lips parted, and Emara caught a glimpse of his straight white teeth under his full lips. He gave a wink that had less swagger in it than normal. He was there too. From a distance.

Her heart squeezed. It wasn't enough. She wanted more from him. But she knew for certain that right here, in this setting, she wouldn't get it.

Torin had always painted her in a light that was strong and courageous, always pushing her to make bold decisions and own who she was. She had been trying to be that person these last few months.

If only he could truly see how she was doing.

Without his wicked grin, his guardianship, his friendship, her heart was hurting. Without his hands, his kiss, his heart…everything was flat.

"You need to centre your thoughts, Emara," Sybil warned. "I can feel your energy shifting. Not here. We can both freak out together after the summit. Not here. Not before you get what you came for. Not in front of them."

She knew who they were. The elite. In fact, anyone who thought that women shouldn't have the same rights as men. The men who viewed women as weak, lesser than them. They thought they were too emotional to make decisions and too tolerable to fight the Dark Army. They were too weak to wield a sword and too maternal to put a dagger through an enemy's heart.

She had to get it together.

Today wasn't about her broken heart; today, Emara Clearwater was going to change life for every young girl and woman in the kingdom. Emara hoped with all her heart that she could make everyone equal.

"Good day to you all." The chief commander nodded as he rose from his chair before placing his hands behind his back. He was so official. He never took a step out of turn. It was times like this that it was hard to imagine Artem and his father coming from the same clan. "If I could have your cooperation for silence, that would be much obliged. There are a few decisions to be made between factions today involving marriages, guards, and territory." He walked to a table with documents stacked rather high and began his first assignment.

The chief commander talked through territory, stations of men, and where the Fae would like their army placed or pulled back. He covered Shifter business with Murk and touched upon finances with the Minister of Coin, whose appearance made Emara's skin crawl. It always reminded her of the self-indulgent, greedy, ostentatious faction he represented, and she wondered if she would ever see the good in what he embodied.

Once the chief commander had sent his congratulations to House Water and Clan Coldwell on the news of their growing family, his eyes landed on Emara. "Can the Empress of Air please rise and take to the centre of the room?"

As the leader of the hunters, it was also his duty to read from a letter that had been sent to the prime, and it was clear he was shocked by Emara's request. As he looked at her over the paper in his hands, his eyes narrowed. Emara took a deep breath but held herself the way Naya had taught her as she walked onto the floor that would be her stage. All eyes from the factions were on her now, and the silence of the room was staggering.

Finally, the time had come for her to appoint a new guard, and she was ready to advise who she wanted.

The chief commander's eyebrows scrunched again, and his mouth moved from side to side like he was deep in thought, possibly trying to process his surprise at the contents of her request.

He ran a large hand over his chin. "I hold a very interesting letter here, Empress Clearwater." He finally put the letter on the table in front of him and looked at her. His skin was the same colour as Arlo's, and she could see some resemblance in his tall frame, thick arms, and russet hair. But the hunt had aged him before his time. Creases around his eyes showed wisdom, and the lines around his mouth demonstrated experience. He wasn't as handsome as Artem or Arlo, but he did have a charming quality about him.

She adjusted herself, pushing her shoulders back and raising her chin. "I hope it caught your attention in the best of ways, Chief Commander Stryker."

The full room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, but she tried to focus on the reason for being here. Determination ran through her veins.

"It has absolutely caught my attention, Empress of House Air." Chief Stryker's voice was deep with meaning. "Call me highly intrigued."

Emara paused, halting the conversation; he held the power in this discussion, and so it should be him to ask the next question. She had to remain poised and look like none of the pressure was getting to her. She allowed one eyebrow to rise.

He observed her silence. "For the members of the summit here today who have not read the letter from the Empress of House Air, she is in need of a replacement for her late guard, Magin Oxhound."

The Minister of Coin spoke in the same way all elite men did, looking down their nose. "I don't see what needs the attention of the prime; surely that would be arranged with her closest clan."

"You will see why it requires our attention," The chief commander mused as he gestured his hand for Emara to give insight to her letter.

She blew out a short breath. "As the court knows, my guard was murdered in cold blood by his own brethren—who turned dark—at the Amethyst Palace during the winter solstice." Emara kept her gaze on the commander, feeling like if she placed it anywhere else, she would lose her nerve. "We are six moons on and yet I haven't replaced him—"

"Down to your choice, Empress Clearwater," the chief commander commented. "I have offered plenty of hunters for the position of your third. Yet, you refuse them."

"I do…I have," she cut in sharply, not allowing him to dominate from an early point in the negation.

Nip them enough to bleed so they know you want blood, Torin would have said.

Dominance.

"Please do not take my refusal of your hunters as a means to wound your offer," Emara continued. "I am very grateful that you have presented such fine hunters for my counsel, but from my letter of request, you now know why I cannot accept them."

The chief commander rolled his lips, and the rest of the prime sat with intrigued looks plastered on their faces.

"Whilst reevaluating my situation and that of my coven, I have found that my trio of guards requires something more diverse," she disclosed, finally finding her feet in the flow of her political stance. "Something that looks more inclusive. Something that works for me."

A few murmurs broke from the court.

"I believe that my next guard shouldn't be of hunting blood, but of wolf's blood." Emara pulled in her cheeks and lifted her gaze to every man who sat on the prime panel, before saying, "I believe that the third person in my trio of guards should be a woman."

Gasps came from the crowd. She didn't dare move until the commander broke the stare first. When he did, turning to see the reactions of those on the panel, Emara finally let her gaze float over to Torin for the briefest second. She found no smile, but there was a twinkle of sly amusement in his eyes.

"A woman?" The Minister of Coin snorted, finally sitting back in his chair. "Why are you wasting our time today?"

She ignored him, turning her head to the alpha. "In fact, I have asked for you to hear me speak at this meeting to honour your daughter for the position, Alpha Baxgroll. I wish to appoint Breighly Baxgroll as one of my guards. She is bright, fierce, and brilliant, and I believe that she is the perfect fit for my cluster."

The large wolf stood, and another unified gasp made its way through the room.

Emara sucked in a secret breath too.

"Let me get this straight, Empress." His inability to wrap his head around the conversation showed on his face. "You are asking for my daughter, a wolf, to be a member of your guards?"

"That is what I want, yes." Emara's gaze did not falter from his face. Her posture did not change even though her muscles ached from tension.

It was then the Minister of Coin let out a chuckle so vile even Murk looked towards him.

"You cannot be serious." His hacking laugh spread nothing but anger over Emara's skin. She pulled on the reins of her magic as it burned to be released to smother him. Air was building in her blood, and it wouldn't be long before fire did the same. "The House of Air would be disgraced if you let a wolf in amongst the hen house, let alone have a woman as a guard."

A slight growl came from some of the wolves in the crowd, and she could see the bulking muscles that Murk held on his frame flexing in distaste of that comment.

"I disagree, Your Grace." She used the term lightly on a man so filled with secrets and atrocities. "I believe a woman could make a difference for the greater good in my trio. It could widen the horizons for us all, giving us more choice and less pressure on the current men on post, who are spread thin across every coven. We must open our eyes to the possibility of women guarding for our kingdom just as well as a man. We have just as much to fight for. This move would certainly allow room for some of your exhausted men to be relieved from posts. And since you still require the clans' protection, it could open up doorways for everyone, including you and the protection your faction requires."

The minister sat up straight in his chair, his eyes already dazzling with the idea of conflict. "Then I suppose your coven should bear more sons in aid of your cause, Miss Clearwater, so that women do not need to fight. If the clans are spread so thinly, then why do you not see it as your duty to produce more warriors?"

"My coven," she punched back, feeling that fire in her belly, "have protected and given magical aid to your faction for longer than the gold on your fingers has shined." She knew her eyes glistened with darkness, but she didn't care. "Therefore, I think you should leave the decisions of childbearing to the sex who know something about it. Even the magic of a witch cannot determine the gender of the child, therefore, we cannot guarantee the birth of any sons. I think we should be making more strategic and progressive moves than leaving it up to fate, Your Grace."

Witches in the crowd agreed, and she heard a few male voices too, including Artem's.

The Minister of Coin scoffed as he twirled a diamond ring on his pinkie finger. "I have never witnessed a decent-bred female wolf fight. How can we be sure that she is up to par with the hunters? Are you sure she will want to get her claws dirty?"

Just as Emara expected a comment from the alpha, a voice came from behind her.

"I am not the kind of woman that you normally deal with in your world, Minister of Coin."

Emara's head turned to witness Breighly standing tall just behind her shoulder. Emara had to control the smirk on her face as she turned back to the panel, who were still staring at her, wide-eyed.

"I am not the kind of girl from your world that is wrapped in silk and told when she can and cannot speak, Your Grace." She walked forward and took her place next to Emara. "I am skilled in many ways; I am as destructive as my pack when in wolven form and I can fight just as well as the hunters in human form. I am the kind of woman our enemies should fear. If you want to see me in battle form, all you need to do is ask."

"Yes!" A booming clap came after a shout from the crowd. Emara didn't have to turn to know that it was Artem Stryker. They evidently had his support—or at least Breighly did.

A few muffled voices could be heard agreeing.

Breighly lifted her chin to Aerrick Stryker. "Chief Commander, I would be honoured to stand beside Emara, the Empress of Air, as her guard, and would take the oath in the same way the hunters do to prove my loyalty and devotion to the role. I have thought about this thoroughly, and I am prepared to make that choice for myself. I have my pack's agreement. I just need my father's blessing in front of the prime."

Emara glanced over to where the Baxgrolls were sitting. Waylen certainly wasn't happy about what was unfolding, but it wasn't like he could stop his sister. Roman had a protective glare in his eyes that posed danger to anyone who spoke out against her. All the others looked on edge.

Emara had taken a risk even asking Breighly to entertain the thought of being a member of her guardianship, let alone vow to take an oath, but it was a strong step for Breighly to play that card. It showed her tenacity to the cause.

"You are a wolf." Murk's deep voice hit off the back wall of the room. "And a wolf does not take the same oaths as a hunter. You do not vow anything under the God of War, but only to our God of Life and Beauty."

Breighly shifted her weight. "I worship the same Gods as everyone else in this room. We all worship the Light. And if you can think of an occasion when the Dark Army has stopped to ask us about what Gods we worship on the battlefield before slaughtering anyone, then I will step away from this honour and never look back."

A positive acknowledgement came from the crowd, and Emara swallowed.

Breighly seemed to be a popular choice.

"Vanadey may be Breighly's factional god, but in the light, she stands like I do. Therefore, we should show no distinction when we speak of the Light Gods and how our factions come together to unite as one." Emara held the commander's gaze. "The Baxgrolls have shown time and time again that they defend these lands fiercer and prouder than any other, so why would it be so unnatural to have a wolf as my guard? Have you not fought with the Blacksteels before to come together to protect your territory?"

Another stir from the crowd proved that Emara's seeds were taking root. However, she did hear some grunts of disapproval, but she couldn't focus on that. Not now.

Murk took a step forward to join Commander Stryker. "Then why can I not give you one of my sons as a substitute for your guardianship request? Waylen or Roman would be honoured to take the opportunity."

Emara was sharp and unrelenting as she said, "Because I have made it clear I do not wish to have any of your sons in my trio. I have pledged for your daughter if the prime would grant it."

The alpha looked tense, but he hadn't yet said no, and Emara wondered if Breighly had spoken to her father beforehand. She did come under his jurisdiction; she was his princess.

Emara took a step forward. "I have seen her fight the Dark Army under the grace of this kingdom's moons, and I know she is worthy of the position, as do you, Alpha Baxgroll. She is fierce and loyal and has never faltered when sending the Dark Army back where they belong. I know it is hard for you to consider that your daughter be anything but your delicate little girl, but she is powerful and a grand fighter. I wish to have her by my side to ensure my magic's safety. To ensure this kingdom has an Empress of Air. It would mean that the pack also has my protection and anything I have to offer. She has shown more than once that she is capable of my protection, Alpha."

Murk took a few seconds before a small, wry smile appeared on his face. "Oh, I know she is anything but delicate. She is a wolf. My wolf." His eyes softened as he looked over his princess, and it was the only time Emara had ever seen his dark eyes turn a golden brown. "Do you want this, Bry?"

Breighly smiled at her father as she looked him in the eye and said, "I am ready, Papa."