Chapter 30

T he Blacksteel Hunting Clan stood in the foyer, awaiting the arrival of the commander and the Empress of Air. No one knew what was in store for them, as they still needed to have a briefing, but Gideon knew to expect the unexpected. Going on the whim of a vision wasn't going to be easy, and he had no idea how Torin was going to explain why they were heading to Skyelir. There were a lot of parts that were missing, and his mother had said that visions can change depending on the hand of fate.

He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that Kellen's visions hadn't kept him up all night. Knowing that his brother was a seer and that he had envisioned the Dark Army obtaining the Protection Stone was a scary thought alone, but the fact that it was a race against time to change the fate of the kingdom was terrifying.

What if time wasn't on their side?

I do not feel fear. I do not feel fear. I do not feel fear.

His childish chants had a funny way of always coming forth to calm his mind, even in adulthood.

His thoughts were interrupted when a ray of sunshine followed Sybil Lockhart through the threshold of the foyer as she arrived from the gardens. The early morning sun shone through her hair, illuminating the fiery red strands that curled all around her wildly. She flattened out her modest olive-coloured skirt before clearing her throat. The earth witch had a softness to her voice, and when she tried to get the attention of the chattering hunters, she failed.

Her creamy cheeks gave a hint of embarrassment as she tried again. "Excuse me, everyone, the portal is ready."

Still the men spoke over her.

Annoyance ran through Gideon's veins. It boiled his blood to see her shrink into herself, nervously holding on to the material of her dress. He'd seen her crawl out of her shell over the last few months; it would be a crime to send her hiding away again. Gideon watched as Sybil rose to her tiptoes and tried to yell over the loud men, but again, she failed.

Before he knew it, he had sprung from the wall to stand by her side.

"Silence," he roared over the din of the crowd, and it cut through every conversation like a dagger. Every person in the foyer looked his way. "The Empress of Earth has important news. Show the Empress of Earth some respect and listen to what she has to say."

Fuck, he had never sounded more like Torin. As he looked at the men's faces, he thought they were shocked to see that it was he who stood there and not his older brother.

Gideon glanced at Sybil, who had a bashful blush on her cheeks. She bowed her head as a thank you to him, her huge moss-green eyes glittering with gratitude.

She cast her gaze out to the watching crowd. "The portal is ready to take us to Tolsah Bay. Gather your things and meet me in the gardens; I will wait for you all by the rose arch," she announced, her voice still sounding a little shaky. She wasn't a speaker like Emara could be, but when she produced magic, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her portals were probably the strongest in the witching world now that they had no supreme. "Oh, but please do not step through it until I say."

Gideon's chin lifted. "You heard what the empress said; not a person steps through it until she says. Let's get moving!"

As the hunters moved, she reached out and caught Gideon's arm. He met her stare. "Thank you for that," she said, "truly. I never have the nerve to shout in front of hunters. I feel like I am doing something wrong."

"You are not doing anything wrong." Gideon tried his best not to smile. He lowered his head so that he could whisper, "Maybe next time you should just shake the ground. They would listen then."

A genuine smile lit up her face, and Gideon did all he could to stop his heart from feeling like it could tumble from his chest as he drew away from her.

"I think I might try that next time." She found a corner of her lip with her teeth. "Thanks for reminding me that I am an empress who could part the ground from underneath their feet."

Gideon laughed and then his eyes met hers again. "I am more than happy to remind you of that every day."

It looked like her breath caught in her chest, and her eyes diverted to her hands as a rosy blush stained underneath her freckles.

"I mean, I am your guard, and I get to watch you create magic all day, every day," Gideon said, flustered, trying to hold on to any professionalism he had left.

"Right." She finally looked up from her hands. "Shall we get to the portal, then?"

"Yes, let's." He gestured for her to go first.

When Breighly's hands hit the white sandy shore of Tolsah Bay, so did her vomit.

"Fucking portals," she cursed as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

She knew the portals did not agree with Shifter blood. her bones already shifted, her magic already running through her blood so that she could transform; she didn't need to add another dimension onto that.

The summer sun was scorching down on the bay, so much warmer than in Huntswood, burning into her scalp. She had vomit tracking down her tunic that suffocated her neck and barricaded her chest. Hunting gear was not made for women, and it was noticeable. Her feet were in heavy boots, and it made it hard to even walk in the sand. Her stomach was still unsettled, swishing and splashing like the waves behind her.

And the words of her brother carried to her ears even in the sea breeze.

You know, you are just like her.

She always left too.

She ran from the pack too, always looking and searching for something more. We weren't enough for her.

Her day was already a shitshow; she'd fought with her brother, her pack hadn't joined the hunters, and the memories of her mother's abandonment were all too fresh in her mind.

Just as she thought she had stabilised the nausea, a wave of it overtook her again and Breighly hurled over in the sand, emptying the contents of her stomach. She retched and she heaved until there was nothing left in her belly.

A shadow in the sand notified her that someone was coming towards her, but she couldn't hear anything from the pounding in her head, nor could she see anything, blinded by tears brought on by the retching. The large figure stood over her, shielding her from the sun's heat long enough to feel shade kiss her skin.

It was glorious.

"You need to drink more water," a deep, strident voice said from behind her.

She didn't have to look up to know who stood in front of the sun for her; she could already smell his scent. It wasn't enough to keep the liquid from filling her mouth.

She spewed again.

Great! Maybe the day could get worse.

"I didn't bring any water." She tried to swallow the relentless surges of queasiness. "I was going to refill on the ship."

The shadow moved to crouch beside her. "Drink this."

When she finally had the courage to look up, Artem Stryker was holding out his metal flask of water. The hand that offered it to her had a rose inked into it.

"You need that," she refused, tearing her eyes away from a hand that knew her body well. "I will be fine."

"I will find another source when we get to Skyelir; the place is brimming with fresh water." He urged her to take it again. "I want you to drink it."

His handsome face, strong and fierce, looked down on her with eyes golden like the sun.

With a trembling hand, she cursed inwardly and reached out to take it from him. Placing the cool steel to her lips, she drank, and the freezing liquid finally seemed to settle her raging stomach and burning throat. Taking a few breaths as she sagged against the sand, she uttered, "Thank you."

Artem grinned. "Can the princess wolf not handle a portal?"

One of the warrior's inked hands came down—the one that bore a skull—as he offered to help pull her up. Fighting against her pride, she slapped her hand into his, and he hoisted her off the ground.

His infuriatingly perfect eyebrow ventured upwards. "You good?"

She nodded, but when she closed her eyes, all she could see was Waylen's face as he scorned her last night.

In my eyes, you are a lost cause. Just like her.

Her brother's words carved another slash in her heart.

Artem's brow pulled down. "No evil glare? No snide remark? No threat to chop off my balls for calling you princess?"

When she looked up at him, the glow of the sun burned around his back and illuminated the colours of his tattoos. It filled his skin with a thousand pictures of lives that had been before him and traditions he believed in. His russet hair was lighter in the sun, and it sat neatly atop his head, short and tidy. His tunic hugged his ridiculous body, and the steel littering his belt was a sign of how dangerous he could be. He was the chief commander's son, and the crest of his clan sat on his chest.

Her heart's wounds bled out a little more as she took him in.

He was…otherworldly.

His expression soon morphed into a concerned one. There was hardly ever silence between them, and the broken part of her hungered for that normality. Her turmoil was obvious on her face for him to see, and in this moment, as the sea breeze pulled at her hair and the sun shone on him, she didn't care if her sorrow was laid bare.

She couldn't hide it, not when she felt the snake of vulnerability coil around her throat and choke her.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

He somehow knew.

She inhaled to speak but no words came out, Only the tears that she wanted to hold back so desperately. She would never in her wildest dreams have wanted Artem to see this side of her. She took two steps back. Her legs shook and she wobbled in the sand.

No, she would not feel this.

She would not feel anything.

She couldn't do this.

And you will probably end up fucking one of them and having one of their bastard children right before they marry their witching wife.

"Breighly…" Artem caught her wrist and searched for answers across her face. "What is wrong? What happened? I can feel…something."

"Stop!" she cut in.

Roman was the only one who knew when she was on a downward spiral into the pit of self-hate. Everyone else saw her as someone who was so confident and fearless, but she had her moments of weakness. And Artem Stryker had just witnessed one of them.

Fuck!

Breighly managed to shake her head and tried to pull back her wrist from his warm grip.

"Something has." He pulled her closer, and one of his hands found her shoulder. "I have never seen you like this. You're shaking."

She managed to shove him off. Eyes would be on them for sure, and she was just as much a warrior as him. "It is not a special honour to see me this way. You have never seen me this way because no one ever does."

His eyes narrowed as he stumbled back, caught off guard at her sudden movement. But then his full lips parted and his soft golden eyes warmed. "Just talk to me. Let me see if there is anything that I can do—"

"There is nothing you can do," she hissed.

He flinched.

Oh fuck, she could feel her claws sharpening under her skin.

Waylen's words hardened around her heart.

You're a lost cause.

She was a mess, but Artem was good, warm, and stable. He was a Hunter of Thorin.

What the fuck was she doing? She wasn't going to drag him into her mess. She was a wolf and he was a hunter from one of the wealthiest and most powerful clans in Caledorna. What did she think was going to happen? As much as she knew he liked her and couldn't get enough of her, he would marry a high-ranking witch and Breighly would find a mate.

She was a girl who found it hard to run a tavern in the city. She struggled to feel anything but rebellion and a thirst for trouble. She liked to bite off more than she could chew and said horrible things when she was hurting. She was a girl who liked to challenge the world, yet couldn't handle it when her heart challenged her head.

Artem reached for her again, but she withdrew like a viper that felt threatened. And like her, when vipers felt threatened, they spat poison. She couldn't let Artem Stryker into her heart anymore. Somehow, he had managed to wiggle in a little, and it was time she shut it down and lived up to her reputation.

"Stay the fuck away from me," she said, feeling the poison of her self-hatred turning her heart dark. "I mean it, Artem Stryker. Get away from me. And do not lay another hand on me."

His face was a mix of hurt, anger, and confusion as he looked at her, a little gulp tracking down his throat.

"You need to stay away from me."

She turned from him, the memory of his face burning in her mind, and didn't look back as she walked along the beach of Tolsah to find a moment alone.