Page 32 of Emylia

He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then maybe stop undressing him with your eyes.”

I elbowed him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a terrible liar.”

"Am not." I felt like a spoilt child.

"You are. Don't even try to deny it." His grin held, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was just a mask. One I knew well.

But the words I wanted—needed—to say never made it past my lips. His claim on me was undeniable, and Gods, it infuriated me. It wasn’t fair–how easily he held pieces of me I never meant to give. Like my heart had already chosen him in some quiet, secret way long before either of us were brave to admit. All he had to do was reach out, and I’d fall.

Over and over again.

No permission.

No resistance.

Just this maddening, inevitable ache.

My heart had surrendered to him long ago–it was just waiting for him to finally take it.

This thing between us, it was always quiet… but ever-present. Heavy in the silence. Loud in the spaces between our words. The ache of almost. Of what if. Of never enough. I swallowed hard.

“I don’t. I don’t even know him.”

“Then stop undressing him with your eyes,” he threw out, this time the hurt not masked. That did it.

“You say one word to him, and I swear I will end you.”

He just shrugged. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m serious, Sebastian. Don’t even think about mentioning my name.”

He grinned wider. “Look, I’ll try… but I can’t make any promises.”

Before I had a chance to say anything else, Uncle Thrainn’s voice rendered us silent. Anticipation burnt brightly in my uncle’s eyes as he stepped forward, his teeth gleaming devilishly in the sunlight. “In the name of the Goddess Elessandria, I welcome you all. I hope you’ve all been enjoying another year of festivities. Erik, maybe you’ve been enjoying yourself a little too much.”

A short, slightly overweight man joined in the laughter at his own expense, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand while he raised a mug of ale with the other.

“The archery, done in remembrance of Elessandria’s trial in the caverns, was exhilarating and gave all of our young strapping lads a chance to step up and reveal any hidden talents. This year, I must admit, we had a somewhat unexpected outcome.” Uncle Thrainn’s head tilted as he spoke as if he truly was surprised by this year’s contests.

It suddenly occurred to me what he said. “Uncle Thrainn lost?” I asked.

Stunned was an understatement. The only time I’d ever seen Uncle Thrainn lose to anyone had been to my father; no one else ever got close, except maybe Sebastian and me. Could Sebastian really have beaten the chief?

“He sure did. It was awesome! You should’ve seen his face; I swear a vein in his head was about to explode.” Sebastian was leaning back in the grass, obviously enjoying his victory.

A layer of remorse shadowed me; because of my selfishness and inability to push through the pain of losing my father, I had missed a pivotal moment in Sebastian’s life. One that I knew meant everything to him. “You finally beat him, and I wasn’t here to see it!” My voice broke with emotion.

He threw his head back and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha, I wish. I came so close this year, but unfortunately, it wasn’t me.”

The moment of remorse remained, tainting my soul; I could not allow my pain to fuel my egocentricity; I needed to be more. I needed to be better. Even if it was only to benefit my best-friend, because Sebastian deserved the world. Burying my guilt, I pushed forward, refusing to let him see my epiphany. “Who was it then?”

Sebastian simply returned his gaze to the arena. “Your boyfriend down there.” The tenor of his voice held a razor-sharp edge, goosebumps instantly raising along my arms. Yep, he was shitty at me.

A laugh easily escaped me. “You’re not serious.”

He simply nodded but chose not to elaborate. I’d have to grill him for the details later.

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