CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EMMERY
The path Emmery and Destonne followed to the pond was inordinately quiet that night.
Overhead, Aera soared among the trees, though the absence of angry birdcalls seemed unusual.
As they walked the temperature dropped with the receding daylight, and the air nipped at Emmery's exposed skin.
She drew her green cloak tighter to barricade the night wind, and as she did, her fingers tangled in the chain around her neck.
Only a week ago Destonne had given her his crystal, but thankfully the restful sleep soothed her battered soul enough to step into the water again. She determined today would be their final swim before they descended into the unprecedented horrors of the Hollow to claim what was rightfully hers.
Emmery snuck a peek at Destonne beside her.
Dressed in his usual balck ensemble, he walked with his hands in his pockets, a hesitant crease to his brow, subtle to the untrained eye, but over the last months she’d catalogued each of his flickering emotions.
That line meant he was uncertain or … nervous. Was that even possible?
His eyes slid to her and she glanced away. “You were in the training center this morning,” he said, almost sheepishly.
“I go there everyday.” And so do you, she wanted to add, but thought better of it. As far as she knew, he hadn’t caught her watching him from her favourite concealed alcove like some terrible stalker.
Destonne withdrew his hand from his pocket and skimmed his thumb along his bottom lip. “What were you practicing?”
“I was trying to make shields. And barriers.” Emmery kept her gaze ahead as her cheeks heated.
Why was she embarrassed? She’d trained in front of both Vera and Brennen every day, so what was the difference?
The few she'd summoned had fizzled out or bled from the shape she’d drawn in her mind.
But she’d come a long way from her time at Castle Dusk. Even with the new dose of unruly power.
“Trying? Give yourself more credit. You did quite well.” He strode ahead and spun to face her while he walked backward. “Will you show me?”
As they entered the pond’s enclosure, the scent of flowers and muddied earth floated in the air. Emmery studied the canopy of trees, hopefully high enough the leaves wouldn’t catch fire.
Her stomach squirmed as she shoved her hood off. “Why?”
“I want to see it,” he said simply, but so simply skepticism rose inside her.
Emmery sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “I don’t—”
As Destonne halted Emmery stumbled into him.
He caught her hands, one in each of his, and her heart pounded.
She dared to look up at him. Over the last week, she’d noticed he’d found any excuse to touch her, often and subtly—grazing her hand, catching an eyelash for her, tucking hair behind her ear, sitting close, brushing arms. The strangest part was it wasn’t strange.
“Show me. I won’t let it go until you do,” he said, voice low.
With a sigh, Emmery smiled tightly then said, “Fine.” After Destonne released her hands, she rolled out her shoulders and planted her feet. “Do you want to be in or out of the circle?”
“In.” He stepped far too close, so close his cloak brushed her arm, and his warmth bled into her. Emmery craned her neck to spot the corner of his mouth twitching. “Definitely in.”
She focussed on anything but the sliver of space between them, how good he smelled, like soap and icy mint and night air—
Breathe, Emmery. Focus.
As she exhaled, her khaos flame sparked at her fingers.
Summoning her magic was something she’d done countless times now, but even after her tireless hours of practice it threatened to rush out all at once in a ravenous tidal wave.
That was always the hardest part. She constructed a wall to capture that excess power, and circled her hand over her head to draw a ring around them.
Her khaos flame obeyed, rising up over their heads, and enveloping them in a burst of heat. A lick of wind ruffled Destonne’s hair.
Emmery glanced up at him, but for what? Some reaction or praise? Ridiculous.
But his lips parted and his head swivelled, almost in wonder. Then he muttered, “Brilliant.” The gold flickered in his eyes as he tilted his head down to meet her gaze. “And the shield?”
“You’re bossy today,” Emmery teased, biting back a smile.
With a furrow of his brow, he noted, “Only today?”
“I suggest you back up unless you enjoy the scent of charred King.”
A chuckle rumbled from him as he retreated.
Emmery raised her hand and squeezed her eyes shut.
Shields had proven difficult to contain, but as she harnessed a thread of her power and tethered it to her hand, a wall of flame roared to life between them.
However, Emmery’s miscalculation of the distance nearly singed Destonne’s hair.
Gritting her teeth, she yanked back her humming power and the wall vanished.
His eyes only glimmered with intrigue, an unnerving hunger, like he wanted to reach out and seize her flame for himself.
Surely her magic couldn’t be that fascinating.
She cleared her throat and fought her squirming stomach. “Didn’t your father have the blessing of flame?”
“He did but his magic wasn’t anything like yours. It felt different. Yours hums or … sings,” he said, his voice contemplative. “It’s stunning.”
Emmery snorted. “Right, that’s what sparked all the rumours and fear.”
She brushed past Destonne, but he caught her hand.
Her quickening pulse drummed against his fingertips.
“Some people can’t look at something so terrifyingly beautiful.
Something that could absolutely decimate them.
It strikes fear in their hearts and they run instead of taking time to really see it.
” His thumb caressed her wrist as if to silently say, like you.
Caught like an antelope in the jaws of a lion, Emmery stared, unsure what to say. Her eyes trailed to his chest, the triangle of scarred skin bare of any marks. “Do you miss your magic?” she asked, hoarsely.
Destonne dropped her wrist and stepped toward the pond, gazing out over the water like it held the answer. “Per the pactum terms, I can’t speak on it.” He strolled to a boulder then sat and unlaced his boot. “But I’m sure you can deduce how I feel by the lengths I’m taking to retrieve it.”
Emmery nodded as she let the peacefulness of the night seep into her bones.
As much as she feared her magic before, she couldn’t imagine her life without it now.
Without her power, she would be helpless.
Is that what he felt? She glanced sidelong at Destonne, but his face was unreadable again as he removed one boot and moved to the next.
“We’ll get it back,” she stated. “I’ve determined today is our last lesson.”
“Have you?” Humour coloured his tone. “Why’s that? Finally bored of me?”
A small smile lifted her lips. “It’s difficult to be bored of someone whose arrogance reaches new heights everyday.” Her smile widened. “No, I’m impatient.”
“Impatient, huh?” He tsked softly. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”
She plunked herself down on a nearby rock and started on the laces of her boots.
As she removed her cloak, she sent prayers to Deimos or Kahlia, really whoever would listen, and asked for strength.
On a tree branch above, Aera chirped in encouragement and rested her head on her crossed paws. Emmery blew her a kiss.
When she turned back to Destonne, his fingers lingered on the last button of his tunic and his carefully folded trousers lay on the boulder. He shrugged out of his shirt and laid it atop the pile. Then he stood there in only his undershorts.
Emmery’s mouth grew impossibly dry.
Destonne O’Daire was a lot of things: obnoxious, spoiled, selfish, devious, manipulative, and … did she mention obnoxious?
But he certainly wasn’t ugly.
Emmery stared and stared, ensnared like a fly in a web, or, perhaps more accurately, drawn like a nocturnal insect to firelight.
At first, defensiveness barricaded his eyes as she took in the mottled patchwork of scarred skin along his toned arms and chest, tapering off just below his ribs.
A tapestry of pain. But as he read her look, took it for what it truly was, heat stoked in that black gaze.
The defined lines of his abdomen, narrow waist and honed hardness, reflected his days in the training arena.
A thin trail of dark hair led from his navel and disappeared under his waistband.
And everything about him was utterly indecent. Gods save her.
She gawked until both of them realized it had gone on entirely too long and she needed to stop.
Emmery hated it.
She hated the way her face flamed and heat gathered in places it had absolutely no business being. She hated that stupid lopsided smirk on his face. She hated that he could do this to her, just remove his clothes, reduce her to a puddle, and boil the blood rushing in her veins.
“If you don’t stop ogling me, you'll be too distracted and surely drown," he stated. He adjusted his waistband like he was trying to draw her eye there.
“What happened to your promise?” She crossed her arms over her chest, spun on her heel, and stalked toward the pond. “And I’m not ogling.”
“Call it what you will. Ogling, staring, admiring, it’s all the same, angel.”
“You’re so vain,” she scoffed. Her pulse thrummed in her cheeks. “Why did you undress? You didn’t before.”
“Because today you actually claimed you would swim. Every other day was on a whim.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have chosen a different incentive to coax you into the water.”
Destonne caught up to her in a few strides and blocked her path. Emmery stilled, her heart throbbing in her throat, and tried to stare anywhere but at his exposed skin. What was he doing? What was his angle?
His proximity set her nerves alight like the night sky; stars winking in her veins.
Could he feel it too? That stifling heat in the air between them?