Page 200 of Emylia

He extended a hand, smirking. “Gods, you’re insufferable.”

“You love it.” I murmured, watching the way his eyes flicked to my mouth before he caught himself.

“I tolerate it, at best,”he muttered, his fingers curling around mine and pulling me to my feet. But his laugh betrayed him.

“Come on. Quit stalling.”

We moved to the center of the clearing, circling each other like we’d done a thousand times. The sun was still rising, casting golden light over the grass, turning every breath into a puff of mist.

“No weapons?”I asked.

“Nah,”he said, flexing his fingers. “I like a fair fight.”

“Fighting me will never be fair. My power is a weapon. I was just trying to give you an advantage.”

“You’re dangerous,”he said, stepping closer. “But I can handle it.”

I lunged. He sidestepped—barely.

The first few exchanges were playful. Light on our feet, we moved in tight, teasing circles–fingers brushing over bare skin and worn fabric, not striking so much as tasting the charged space between sparring and something far more dangerous.

He was fast, but I knew his rhythm. I knew the way his left foot always gave him away right before a pivot. He faked high. I spun low, dropping into a crouch that let me slip beneath his reach. His boot scuffed the dirt as he twisted, trying to hook my ankle—but I was faster.

I caught his wrist mid-move, fingers tightening just enough to make him stumble. My grip lingered, a half-second too long, just enough for both of us to feel it.

He came back with a grin sharp enough to cut, golden eyes blazing with that mix of challenge and something darker—something hungry.

I pivoted before he could recover, sweeping his legs out from beneath him in one clean motion. He went down hard, the air leaving his lungs in a windedoofas his back hit the grass. I didn’t give him a moment to catch it. I stepped over him slowly, letting my shadow fall across his chest as I looked down at him.

“That smug enough for you?”I asked, breath just a little uneven.

His hand curled into the grass like he was holding himself back from something else entirely.

“Shit,”he laughed, staring up at the sky. “Okay, I’ll give that to you. That wasactuallygood.”

But I knew he’d been going easy on me—even though I didn’t need him to.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“Not surprised. Just impressed.”He propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re getting stronger.”

The tone shifted—just a fraction. The kind of shift that tightens the air in your lungs before you realize you’ve stopped breathing.

I offered him a hand.

This time, he took it—and didn’t let go.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. The world narrowed to the space between us.

“You’ve changed,”he said quietly, his eyes searching mine.

My voice barely found its way past my lips. “So have you.”

We stood there, fingers still linked, breath catching on the edge of something too big to name.

Then—

“Sebastian.”

---