Chapter 12

E mara sat at the oversized window in her bedroom, looking out at the city below her. The lights of homes and workplaces twinkled in the orangey-red glow, and as the sunset fell behind the buildings, Emara noted that she had never really gone exploring in the city, just the markets. And from this view, the city looked so beautiful. She made a promise to herself that she would go wandering once everything settled down. She would experience the city she so often stared at from the windows of the Tower.

She had been in her room ever since coming back from the minister's mansion, the day's events rolling over in her mind tirelessly.

Her new guardianship, her encounter with the Fae king, her stand-off with the Minister of Coin. The slight glimmer of hope that had welled in her heart when Torin defended her…

It was all too much. Her mind just needed a rest.

Maybe she needed some air; being with her natural element always calmed her, but there was nowhere for her to go downstairs without being seen. The Tower was heaving full of magical factions since her achievements, and the gardens would be well used on a summer night like tonight.

A promising thought had Emara standing in a second.

She knew of a place that would give her a view of the city and air on her skin as she worked through all the thoughts in her mind.

Heading to the door, she met Artem at his post, as always.

"I want to release you from your post for the night," she announced, meeting his eye, knowing full well that she was about to find herself in another showdown. "You should go and enjoy the celebrations."

"You know I can't do that." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaving the wall behind. "Why are you trying to entice me with celebrations? What tricks do you have up your witchy little sleeves tonight?"

She closed her eyes on an outward breath. "Artem, I just want to be alone for an hour. I am going to the rooftop of the Tower, not the fighting pits."

Artem lifted his brow. "You never know with you these days."

Spending so much time with one person meant that you got to know a lot about them, their mind, their strengths, their weaknesses…

Emara put her hand on the door frame. "I will be fine. I just need to feel…free. I need some time alone. Plus, I need you to find Breighly Baxgroll. She should be back at the Tower soon. Your father should be clearing her now for the position and is keen for her to take the night post. It will give her time to think if she wants to take the oath or not and it will give you time to rest. Plus, she might come looking for me…here."

His eyes sparkled. "Oh. Okay. Do you think she will come to your quarters? She knows where they are, right? Do you want me to wait here in case you miss her or aren't back on time?"

"Yes, Artem." Emara bit back a grin. "Do you think you can give me a little space? Just for a teeny tiny hour."

He nodded quickly, running a hand through his russet hair. "Okay, sure. I can wait here. Okay, yeah. I will wait here. Makes sense," he said, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes narrowed. "No rush. Take your time. I will be right here."

She placed a hand on his huge bicep. "Thanks, champ."

He leaned in, a stern look on his face. "Do not leave this Tower. I mean it, Empress of Wandering into Trouble. "

Emara offered her guard a smile and then disappeared into the corridor to hide her amusement at a very flustered Artem Stryker waiting for a certain wolf.

Climbing the stairs so quickly burned her thighs in a way that validated her strength instead of her old weakness. Before, she would have been out of breath, but her training recently had increased not only her speed but her endurance too. When she could feel her lungs burn, she called on her element as a remedy. Reaching the old door that looked extremely out of place, she burst through the threshold and was smacked by a strong summer breeze. It was muggy, but it was enough to soothe her skin after her climb.

Closing her eyes, she let the breeze cool her face, neck and mind, letting the summer air whirl around her body. Her element had found her like she had called to it, and it gave her what she required, wrapping her in a delicate, comforting embrace.

The sounds of punching leather and throaty grunts interrupted her, and she opened her eyes before taking a few steps out onto the rooftop properly.

A brown leather punching bag stood like an enemy of the Blacksteel Clan at the furthest side of the roof.

Emara's heart fluttered into her throat as she witnessed Torin Blacksteel's bare knuckles battering against its weight. His strong back muscles moved under his slick skin, demonstrating how powerful his body was as he made blow after blow. Emara sometimes forgot how lethal he was, but seeing him like this was always a reminder of how much of a powerhouse he truly was. His feet moved just as quickly as his hands, always surprising her with how graceful his movements were for the sheer size of him. His torso rotated, showing his carved abdomen as he punched and punched and punched, obliterating the punching bag.

His breathing was heavy, his chest convulsing more than she had ever seen. He had been up here a while, she guessed. She could see evidence of the leather starting to burst at one side of the bag.

How many times had he punched that thing?

"We've got to stop meeting up here, Torin," she called as the gentle breeze blew at a few loose strands of her braid and carried his name out towards the city below.

He halted, his back more tense than before.

"I didn't realise you trained up here," she said, and she took a sharp inhale when he didn't respond to her. "Or that you were still at the Tower."

She had wondered if he had gone back to the pits to fight himself to death or drink himself into an oblivion again.

But he hadn't. He was here.

Torin didn't look around as he started punching again. "I am not training."

He was self-destructing.

What was worse, he could barely even look at her, and it had been that way since his father had told the prime of his amendments to the marriage treaty. However, today, for the first time in many moons, she had seen a little glimmer of hope as he defended her at the summit. A sliver of how he felt about her. His eyes had locked with hers and he'd held his breath when he looked at her.

In that moment, she'd vowed to herself that she would find him again, find his soul, and fight for him. She would take it upon herself to tell him her stance in all of this. He was lost right now, but she would always find him. It wasn't over for them.

Viktir Blacksteel was not a god, and he did not decide her fate.

"Thank you for showing up today—and for being in my corner," she called out, hoping it would reach his heart. "You didn't have to—"

"I did have to." He punched into the bag with full force, the impact shuddering through the air. "You were being preyed on by the vultures of the prime. The Minister of Coin is a squirming. Piece. Of. Shit." He struck the bag like it was the elite man's face.

"At least we agree on something," she tried to joke, but her voice fell flat. "You always seem to come to my aid when I need you most."

She felt like her heart was open, bare for all to see, and when he didn't respond, a spike of shame turned into anger.

Torin punched until the noise began to burn in her ears. "I wasn't going to let him hound you like that in front of everyone," he said finally, surprising her. "Oh, and by the way, you need to stop being cordial to people who don't respect you."

"What would you have wanted me to do? Light the Minister of Coin's mansion on fire?"

"Exactly that."

He punched and hammered and beat the leather. With every second that passed, Emara's blood boiled hotter.

"Stop!" she roared, an overwhelming sensation pouring over her. "Stop punching."

He halted again, stopping the weighty bag from moving. She took a breath, hearing the blissful silence, but she was soon swarmed by everything that had been left unsaid between them.

"Please, just stop punching," she whispered.

He looked over his broad shoulder at her, his dark hair spilling over his brow that dripped with perspiration. For one desperate moment, she wanted to be the only thing in the universe to fill his shattered eyes with hope. She wanted them to fill with desire and admiration for her like they used to, to fill with jest and wicked taunts meant only for her ears.

He turned to face the punching bag again and his head fell towards his chest, his strong neck straining as he looked at the ground.

"Maybe we should talk about this." A small voice that didn't sound like her own passed her lips.

"There is nothing to say, Emara." He whispered her name back like a plea to end his torment.

Her throat bobbed, shutting in all the emotion that she could feel escaping. "Why won't you look at me anymore?"

"Emara—"

"Why?" she cried, finally breaking the tension in the air. "You are acting like I mean nothing to you."

"You know that's not true." He glanced back at her.

"Stop shutting me out, Torin. I know you care about me. I know you do, so why can't you show me your heart?"

He lifted his gaze to the sky that had begun to absorb the summer pastels and turn them into night. The wolf moon had not yet entered the sky fully, but a slow glow set over the city like a dampened oil lamp.

He shook his head and let out a huge exhale. "Do you think that is fair of you to ask me that?"

Her heart cracked open. No, no it wasn't. But she couldn't stand this any longer.

She wasn't about to let some things go unanswered.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had sent letters to the prime requesting our union be favoured?" A single tear tracked down her face in frustration and hurt. "Do you not think that I have a right to know of such requests?"

He placed his hands on his hips and turned to face her. Overhead, Emara could see a dark cloud forming, and it blocked out the glow that illuminated his skin and striking features. Instead, it carved them out, sending darker shadows across his face and a coldness into his eyes.

"There was no point in telling you that I had written to them if it were not to come to fruition."

Emara's heart had never hurt more as she looked at him, tortured by what she knew was his hope for a different future too. He had shared that intimate thought with her, the deepest parts of him. He had shared with her everything that he was. And she had shared it all with him too. Her heart had chosen him.

She gritted her teeth. "The point is that I would have known about it. I would have known that there was hope in all of this, known how your heart felt. Instead of this…nothingness. This ice. You have done nothing but avoid me, Torin."

He took a short breath and then glanced out at the city.

"Will you look at me?" Emara's voice grated against her throat.

Her magic was stirring. The air thickened and somehow managed to get clammier than it already was. Her flames threatened to lick her palms and her wind gathered around them, blowing at their hair.

"Look at me!" she finally screamed.

"I can't!" he roared back, finally turning. He no longer looked hurt, but devastated. "I can't look at you because every time I do, I see everything that I ever wanted. I see everything I can't have. Why don't you fucking understand that? Yes, I have been avoiding you—because my heart cannot bear to see you."

He might as well have punched her in the face. She took a stumble back.

But he took a step forward. "My heart bleeds every time I see you. My heart shatters every time your name is mentioned," Torin seethed, his hair rustling in the newly formed wind. "And I can't stand the thought of you being married to someone else. It fucking kills me! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Of course not." She shook her head as tears blinded her vision. Emara tried to take a few steps towards him, but her stupid legs wouldn't listen. "Maybe we can go to the prime—"

"And what then?" His hand flew out. "Have your way in court for another time this month? That's not how politics works in this world, Emara. I think you might have reached the limits of favours from the prime."

"I have overcome things that people didn't believe in before. We just have to make them see another way."

He scoffed. "Another way? And what would that be?"

Anger built in her heart, and she scrunched her fists as tears rolled from her eyes. "This…defeatist attitude is so very un-Blacksteel of you," she spat.

"Oh?" He turned to face her again. "Are you now an expert in Blacksteels just because you are set to wed my brother? How are the wedding plans coming along, by the way?"

The sting of his comment pierced her heart. "Maybe if I were an expert in Blacksteels I would know how to deal with how pathetic you are being right now."

"Pathetic?" Irritation finally reached his eyes, screwing them tight. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Are you doing anything to prove otherwise? At least I am acknowledging that we could do something about this. I am trying to think of ways we are not eternally miserable. But you have just accepted that fate, and that is so weak of you."

He walked towards her slightly, his knuckles strained white. "What would you have me do, Emara? Stand before the prime and beg for them to release me of my commander, of my oath? Because I was going to do that and you stopped me. You told me that I couldn't. I was going to throw in this whole fucking life because all I wanted was you." He paused, the pain in his heart reaching the features of his face. "You are all that mattered. I would have run. I would have packed a bag and we could have disappeared. But you couldn't. And I understand that. I do. I get that you had a lot more to give up. You are the Empress of Air." He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. "Gods, Emara, I even stuck around when my father was announcing your engagement to my brother. I watched as Gideon tried his best to court you in front of me. But I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't watch it happen. So what would you have me do?"

Torin had come to her a few days after the winter solstice ball, when she had been cleared by the healers, and he had asked her to go with him—go anywhere in the kingdom—and she had refused him. She had asked for more time. That was all she had seemed to be doing lately, working off borrowed time.

She took a moment before answering him, the stinging in her chest finally reaching her eyes. "All I am asking from you is to…" She stopped herself from speaking and found another way around saying what she really wanted to. "Have patience. Have faith that this will work out. I will find a way."

He shook his head, his hands falling down by his sides. "You can't ask me to be patient for something that I will never have."

Emara could feel the word vomit climb in her throat. "You used to look at me and stop the world with the passion in your eyes." Her hands and voice shook. "And then when you found out about my blood—about who I really am—my world spun so violently because I couldn't even fathom a world where you didn't look at me like that. And now my only option is to believe that you can't look at me the same because you know who my father is. Is that the reason you won't fight for this?"

The air around them dampened like a storm was imminent, and the sky turned a darker shade of black-blue.

"Emara, all I do is look at you." His lips pulled over his teeth, his gaze holding hers in a fiery frustration. "All I do is see you, even when I pray to Thorin to stop such cruelty in my dreams. I dream of you with my brother, having the life that I envisioned for myself. For us. You shouldn't want me to feel this way for you anymore. You shouldn't want me to look at you like I used to." He moved forward and then halted. "I don't give a fuck about your demon blood, and I certainly don't care that Balan is your father." An icy mist passed through his eyes. "I meant what I said to the Supreme at the winter solstice ball. I know your heart, and that's what kills me, because I know how it feels about me too. I am being punished because I disobeyed my commander and put my heart before my duty. And I am enraged that the punishment involves you too. I will be forever sorry for that. I hate myself for it."

She pulled a few strands of hair from her face. "I don't care if I am punished anymore, Torin, because it feels like torture without you anyway. I can't do it. I can't marry Gideon. I just can't. And you need to hear that. I won't marry him."

"Don't say that. You need to." He swallowed then, possibly a bit of his pride or his heart. "I am not scared of what would happen to me if we defied my father, but for you. It would make sense for you to marry him over me. He can make sure you are safe. What we have…it's forbidden."

She let him see a tear fall. "How the heart truly feels is never forbidden. The heart rules over everything."

He looked at her with those piercing blue eyes, and she swore that a thunder cloud had merged just behind him, creating a menacing backdrop.

Finally, his lips parted, and he shook his head. "If I were a better man, a good man, I would let you be with Gideon. I would let you be with my brother and find happiness. I should walk away. You don't need me to interfere with that."

Emara shook her head as the lump formed in her throat again. "You have no idea what you are even saying." Her voice rose. "That is not your decision. You can't make that decision for me."

"Yes, yes I can." His chest rose sharply and then fell. "Especially when it comes to putting you first—"

"You are not putting me first, Torin." A horrible laugh bellowed from her throat. "So don't you dare say that pushing me away is a choice that you made for me, because it's not. You may be protecting me, but I don't want it. Don't dare say you are stepping away because of my happiness, because you are doing the opposite of what I want."

"I have no other choice." His frustrated brow pulled in. "Why would I put you in the firing line of my father, Emara? Tell me why. You don't know what you are dealing with when it comes to the levels of cruelty that Viktir Blacksteel will stoop to. Nothing would be a stretch. Nothing is out of bounds."

"I know that already," she roared back, her muscles beginning to shake. "He has already threatened to reveal my blood if I don't set a date to wed Gideon." A boom thundered across the sky, followed by a flash. "I know the levels to which he will go to ensure that I am ensnared in his trap. And I still won't break under his pressure. I refuse to let him break me."

Rage poured over Torin's face. "I could fucking kill him for doing that to you." He took a breath in, and she saw a trace of fear flare in his eyes.

She let her tears run, and the saltiness hit her mouth. "My soul knew how I felt about you before my heart would give in and admit it, Torin. Don't give up on us."

He looked at her through his lashes, through his own broken dreams, and his lips parted, but he stilled as the wind of a storm picked up his dark hair, making it unruly.

"Those scars on your hands and body are proof that you have gone into every battle and come out alive," she said to him. "We should treat this—how we feel about each other—no differently. We should fight for what we have. I know that I am ready to." She paused, heart beating horrendously fast. "I am just earning my scars, and I want you with me as I do. I am the Empress of Air and I do not accept a treaty that I do not want for myself or my coven. And you should not accept this fate if you don't want it. Fight for something else. Fight for what is in your heart."

He ran a hand over his face, and his nose wrinkled. The scar that lay between his dark brows pulled together. "Until my father is gone, I am just a pawn in his games with the Gods. He decides my fate, not the Gods, and his stupid little sport with our hearts is proof of that."

Emara stepped forward as another flash lit up the sky. "That's where you are wrong, Torin; you decide your fate, and I need you to realise that before it's too late. We have an impending war brewing in the underworld, and fate is telling me that you and I need to stick together." She paused before allowing a fraction of a smile to grace her lips. "Even if the notorious warrior of the Blacksteel Hunting Clan is acting a little pathetic right now."

He scoffed a laugh, and as his ocean-blue eyes found hers, she saw the storming waves in them.

He walked over to the railing and held it tight as he looked out at the city below him. Seconds that felt like years passed between them before he turned to her and said, "Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are when you are pissed off, angel? You are truly breathtaking when you fight for what you want."

She finally managed a real smile, and it spread across her face like the summer sun. "Yes. Someone who once promised to stand by my side through more than just an oath, through something more than an alliance. Someone who promised me that his soul would find mine even when his bones were nothing but dust and stars."

"That oath still stands." His face was serious and deep with thought as he looked over her.

She lifted her chin as dark strands of hair battered into her face. "Then I need you to prove that to me, Torin Blacksteel. I want you by my side, no matter what it takes. Not your brother, not anyone else in this kingdom, you. I will not accept a fate that tells me otherwise and neither should you." She did not let her gaze falter. "I have shown you all of my cards. Now you must decide where yours lay."

He let go of the railing and turned to her fully, and with the way a lightning bolt hit through the sky behind him, he could have been a masterpiece, art to be hung in the temple of the Gods. A thick black cloud rolled over the Tower, swallowing the light and devouring the sky. A thunder crash boomed through the city, rocking the railings.

Concern threatened his brow as he finally opened his mouth to speak. "Are you not afraid of the mess in my heart, Empress?"

Yes. She was terrified that if she let go of the final string that her heart clung to, she would be lost in Torin Blacksteel forever. But this was fated, and she would rather go tumbling into fate with Torin than without him. She could feel her magic acknowledging her decision as it stroked her face, her lips, her skin, her heart…

"Are you not afraid of the darkness that runs in my blood?" she battled back, the question meaning way more than the words that formed the sentence.

"I am not afraid of anything except losing you." There was another flash followed by a tremendous crack of thunder just over their heads, and its full echo vibrated through her. But Torin spoke again, unfazed by the approaching storm as his smouldering eyes devoured her. "It's a good thing that I am not the same kind of man as my brother, Emara Clearwater, because I can't let him marry you. Thorin himself is going to have to kill me first."

Emara's heart kissed the inside of her mouth as Torin Blacksteel strode towards her in nothing but leathers as another thunderous crack broke through the sky. He stopped mere inches from her face as bolts of lightning dazzled the clouds. Her favourite scent of pine and frozen berries hugged her even in the season of summer. Her breathing stopped as their gazes connected, her desire for him setting fire to her soul.

This was right.

They were fated.

A few heavy droplets of rain hit her face. Torin took a heavy breath, as if breathing her in, and his hands flew out. His fingers found themselves tangled in her hair in seconds, and she let a soft moan leave her lips at his touch.

His touch. Only his.

He pulled her closer, and the Gods poured rain—warm and inviting—from the black clouds. "I had convinced myself that I had lost you, that I was doing the right thing by you, and I will spend the rest of my life begging for your forgiveness. I was wrong. You were made for me, Emara Clearwater." Placing the top of his brow to hers, Torin murmured against her mouth, "I don't want anyone else to have you, and I don't care if that is selfish. I want you. Only you, angel." He paused as the rain pelted their skin, and she laughed as her tears mixed with the sweetness of the summer rainfall. A fire ignited in Emara's core as he looked down at her, pulling her body close to his, the collision thrilling and harsh. One sinful dimple appeared when he finally growled, "You're mine, always."

That was all it took for something celestial to shift the world's sphere before his mouth came down on hers, hard and fierce, like he had never kissed anyone else in the world.