Page 202 of Emylia

“You’re still trying to convince me, aren’t you?”

He gave the ghost of a laugh… but said nothing.

And that silence?

It said everything.

His lips found the crown of my head. “I love you.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond. He turned and walked away.

Silence claimed my soulas I watched him disappear into the trees.

And then—he was gone.

ChapterForty-Four

Maalikai turned with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Training,” he said. “No distractions.”

I swallowed the dread that had crept in the second Sebastian disappeared into the trees. The echo of his absence still clung to my ribs, raw and hollow

So I smirked instead. Lifted my chin like I hadn’t just fractured from the inside. “You saying I’m a distraction?”

“More like a liability,” he smirked, stepping back to let me pass. “But a dangerous one.”

He looked delicious this morning. He had a worn asymmetrical leather overcoat, and black leather pants, and I saw at least three daggers strapped to his torso and thigh. His hair was swept away from his face, drawing attention to the brutal beauty of his cheekbones–so perfectly carved, it was as if the Gods themselves had chiseled them.

It wasn’t fair–how easily he could steal the air from my lungs.

He removed his overcoat, throwing it in a heap on the ground. Underneath, he wore a long sleeved black shirt, pushing up his sleeves until they rested just above his elbows.

We circled each other in silence. But the quiet wasn’t empty. It pulsed—tight with heat. With challenge. With tension barely contained.

“Weapons or no weapons?” he asked.

“No weapons,” I replied. “I wouldn’t want to mark that pretty little face of yours.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried, Princess.”

“I beg to differ, judging by our last sparring match.”

He began circling again, slowly, gaze never leaving mine. The ground beneath us was firm, packed dirt—perfect for a fight. I adjusted my stance, loosening my shoulders.

“You cheated,” he said, voice low and amused.

“No,” I said, rolling my neck with a smirk. “You’re just a sore loser.”

That grin. Gods help me—that grin should’ve been illegal.

And then he lunged.

I twisted away at the last second, brushing past him as his fingers snapped out to catch me. I ducked beneath his grip, spun, aimed a palm at his chest.

He caught my wrist midair.

Our eyes locked.

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