Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“T alking to yourself again, Em?”
My heart ricocheted. I whipped around, steel in my eyes.
Sebastian leaned casually against a crumbling pillar—once part of an old watchtower, long abandoned, its stones weathered and half-swallowed by ivy. New towers had been constructed years ago, leaving this one to be quietly reclaimed by time.
This time, he wore a shirt. The colour of midnight. It made the flare in his amber-eyes burn hotter.
Like I needed him to be impossibly hotter!
His arms were crossed. Smirk in place. Except—it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The brush of his gaze lingered on me, a shadow of a touch I wished was real. The playful twist of his mouth faded, just barely, as his eyes dragged across my face, lingering on my mouth. Then his eyes darkened, coated in a layer of something more.
Something darker.
“What’s got you all twisted up?”
I swallowed.
My tongue felt too heavy, like it was covered in liquid steel. My words caged themselves before they even formed. So many answers, but none I could speak without potentially making everything between us incredibly awkward.
So I shrugged. “Just the usual.”
“Murderous rage or existential dread?”
“Why not both?” I fired back, smirking.
Sarcasm: my favourite form of self-defence. So much easier than dealing with feelings.
He didn’t laugh. Just kept looking at me like he could see straight through the act. And maybe… he could.
Without another word, Sebastian pushed off the ruined tower, pebbles loosened beneath his boots, scattering across the path, coming to rest several feet from me.
“Guess it’s time for me to go dominate the war games.” He said, lips tugging into the one-sided smile I pretended not to love. “You’ll be there won’t you?”
“Of course.” A breathless whisper escaped me, his candor catching me off guard.
“Good. Because you’re the only person whose presence actually matters to me.”
My heart stuttered beneath the weight of his words.
“Have I told you how cute you look when you’re flustered?”
Now the smile reached his eyes, turning the liquid sunlight irises into something dangerous. Then he turned and walked away—just like that.
Not a single word.
I didn’t move. I barely breathed.
Not until the silence swallowed me whole and left me standing there like I hadn’t just cracked open in front of him.
A whoosh of air escaped me as I looked up at the sky, praying to Elessandria for strength.
Or restraint.
Or anything that would help.
The sun was almost at its zenith; it wouldn’t be long before the sword-fighting tournament began. Avoiding the path I’d just come down, I scouted around the village, a trodden-down trail wound its way outside Ophelia towards the open fields.
A sea of green rose before me, swallowing me in seconds. The open expanse of grassland spread for miles, speckled with millions of multicolored wildflowers.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, savoring the smell. It was the smell of freedom, or at least it would’ve been if it wasn’t for the crowd of people clogging the field.
As I made my way through the swarm of spectators, a new kind of fear buzzed through me. Irrational or not, I couldn’t shake my uneasiness.
Eyes drifted over me; I didn’t know what I expected to see. Pity? Patronizing kindness? Nothing would surprise me at this point, especially after experiencing Josephine’s reaction.
I was wrong. There was no way I could’ve predicted this.
Familiar faces that I had spent my entire life being judged by and disapproved of were gone. Nonexistent. Everyone was, well, happy.
It was beyond bizarre.
I had grown accustomed to the grief in my mother’s eyes, along with my own overbearing sorrow. I’d forgotten what it was like to smile, what it was like to be anything other than miserable.
Somehow, the mood was infectious, and with each step, excitement bubbled through me. Maybe my mother was right, maybe it was a good thing she made me come to the festival.
Soft flower petals tickled the back of my legs as I lowered myself to the ground. Wriggling until I was comfortable, I turned my attention to one of the sparring rings.
Ten different rings were set up, the boundaries outlined with spectators chewing on large turkey legs and making flower necklaces in the grass as they watched and cheered their favorite fighters. If I wanted to, I could’ve drifted between fights. However, I was happy sitting and watching. Especially since I knew the accumulation of the fights would come to a head in the ring I had chosen, and I wasn’t willing to give up my prime position.
Guilt ebbed through me when I remembered I was supposed to be watching Sebastian. But I reassured myself, I’d see him fight when he made it to the final. He’d forgive me… once he saw me front and center cheering him on as he finally beat the chief. If I left now, I’d lose my spot and be swallowed by the crowd, then he’d never know I was there. The final was the one that mattered, and I was hedging all my bets on him.
Swords were a blur of glinting steel as they caught rays of sunlight, scattering it through the throng of people. Without warning, jealousy clawed its way through me.
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to learn how to fight. The first time I’d heard one of Olag’s tales, I fell in love. Not with princes and princesses, quite frankly, I found them boring. No, I wanted to be a complete badass; I wanted to be a warrior.
Countless hours of training with my father, my uncle, and Sebastian had honed my dream into a reality. Obviously, I had never been battle-tried because I wasn’t technically allowed to touch weapons. But I had trained hard my entire life.
I had continued training even when sweat had become a second skin, and my hands began to bleed. When Uncle Thrainn had pushed Sebastian, he had also pushed me. When my father asked if I was too tired to continue, not once did I say no, I just kept going. Surrendering wasn’t in my vocabulary. It was the reason why I was still able to function even though I’d just lost my dad.
I didn’t know how to give up.
A burn rose like shadows, clinging around my throat–thick, cloying–like ash from a fire I never put out. And when I swallowed it down, it didn’t vanish. It settled in my chest instead–quite, constant–where all the broken things lived. Then deeper still, until it lodged behind my ribs–a phantom ache I’d long since learned not to name.
Where his voice still echoed in the cracks.
Where his absence hollowed me out from the inside.
My heart knew that I was better than every man fighting today, bar my uncle and Sebastian. But it was forbidden for me to prove myself. Just because I was a woman.
It had never been a problem, at least not in Ophelia. Every woman I had ever met was content raising their children while their husbands provided for and protected them. No one ever questioned their lives.
That was before me.
I was different. My father had always said it was because I was destined for greatness. When I was younger, I actually believed him. I clung to my father’s words like they were words from the Gods.
The novelty wore off quickly, probably something to do with the incessant teasing and the loathing stares. Everyone shared one thing in common: their disdain for me.
I represented the first real opposition to our laws and customs. If I was allowed to do what was forbidden, what would stop other females from doing the same? The only reason my behavior was tolerated was because I had been a child, just a phase I would grow out of, or that was what they had thought. They were wrong, so incredibly wrong.
If the other inhabitants of Ophelia had their way, I would’ve already been banished a million times over. It was only because my father, uncle, and Sebastian had fought so fearlessly to defend me that I was practically untouchable.
Trying to distract myself, I focused on the sword fighting. Each of the ten rings set up, had two men fighting, the winner moved on to the next round while the loser could no longer participate. Every single competitor fought like their lives depended on it, not giving up until an opponent was defeated or could no longer fight.
Blood, sweat, and a shit-load of injuries were just the start when it came to these contests. So much so that healers were placed at each ring to step in should a contestant need medical assistance.
If not for the death of my father, my mother probably would’ve volunteered to help. She could usually heal circles around the others–but this year, whatever spark she had… it just wasn’t there anymore. She had lost something of herself–a core part that had once made her whole. The piece that made her her.
Only a short couple of minutes passed before I was caught up in the excitement, clapping and cheering along with everyone else. Time evaporated as I lost myself. Before I knew it, it was mid-afternoon and only two competitors remained.
A bear-sized man stepped into the center of the ring, causing complete silence. Thrainn. My heart stopped. Literally stopped. When was the last time I’d seen my uncle?
I knew the answer without even thinking: my father’s funeral. It had taken all my strength to look into his eyes. I knew what I would find, it was something I still dreaded.
The face of a dead man.
Twins were rare, identical twins, basically non-existent. Usually, the genetic irregularity was only seen in the royal bloodlines.
My father and uncle were anomalies; they looked so alike it was almost impossible to tell them apart. Looking into my uncle’s eyes was like seeing a ghost.
Something shattered inside me. The ache was back, fiercer than ever before. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the memories away. I didn’t want to remember, it was too raw, and the pain ran too deep.
As much as I knew I would come face to face with my uncle at some stage, it didn’t make this any easier. Fingernails cut into my palms, blood trickling down my wrists. I hardly felt it. The pain ripping apart my chest silenced everything else.
Through tear-stained eyes, I saw the blurred scarlet glow emanating on my wrist, beckoning me like a siren. Without hesitating, I clasped onto it, holding it so hard that I was surprised it didn’t draw blood. This was my last link to my father. The only thing left that felt like I had a connection to him.
Maybe if I held it hard enough, maybe if I believed enough, it would feel like I hadn’t lost him at all. It was a desperate, futile hope, one that I knew was rationally impossible.
Despite my heart’s objections, I knew what I had to do. Dragging a ragged breath through gritted teeth, I forced my eyes open, confronting the ghost of my father.
A mane of reddish-brown hair was swept wildly into a long ponytail, resting halfway down his robust frame, wiry and thick, like a lion’s mane. It was matched perfectly by a long, coarse beard that tumbled over his stomach, finishing just above his naval. Skin darkened from prolonged time in the sun glistened with sweat, scars covering every inch of them, the thick, pale lines a reminder of a past now forgotten.
One word summed him up perfectly: lethal.
Thrainn was a born leader, molded by whatever past my father and he kept private. I’d asked my mother to spill the truth about their lives before Ophelia, but she would just shake her head and tell me to stay out of trouble.
Only two people had ever rivaled Uncle Thrainn, and one wasn’t here anymore.
I was ready to take so much satisfaction in watching Sebastian finally beat our chief. My hands braced together, I opened my mouth to cheer–but the scream died in my throat as a second silhouette stepped through the crowd, making his way into the center of the ring. Air punched from my lungs leaving me struggling to breathe.
No way! How the Nexus had he made it to the finals? And who was he fighting? Uncle Thrainn or Sebastian?
Those eyes–startling, glacial blue–hit me like a blow. Stole the breath from my lungs. Left me raw, exposed, seen… all in the space of a single heartbeat.
Built like a war prayer, Maalikai could rival the Gods themselves—Ezekiel, Noctharis, Ozias, Aziel– even they might’ve blinked.
Blasphemy? Probably.
But still—standing beside Thrainn, all sharp edges and impossible calm–he looked like he belonged in a myth, not a sparring circle. Torn from the pages of some forgotten legend, a daydream dressed in leather and arrogance.
Too perfect. Too poised. Too everything. And yet… completely out of his depth.
He was going to get obliterated.
And for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, I kind of wanted to see it. Maybe then, that unsettling spark he lit in me would finally burn out.
“I thought I’d find you here.” My head jerked so fast it was a wonder I didn’t break something.
“Sebastian.” The name left me like a prayer to the Gods.
He’d changed since I’d last seen him—slightly. Still dressed head to toe in black, of course. But his sleeves were shorter now, stretched taut over boulder-sized biceps that looked seconds away from tearing the seams. The dark fabric contrasted perfectly against his dusty brown skin, flecks of his phoenix tattoo catching and reflecting the light as though the flames had come alive.
And the messy brunette hair of his, that always stuck to the side from running his hand through it too many times, left me speechless. A dusting of stubble lined his chiseled jaw, and that stupidly perfect white smile greeted me like always.
But all of that faded in comparison to his eyes.
Amber, molten, stained with flecks of black—like honey cracked open under a storm. I got lost in them every single time. You’d think, after all these years as best friends, I’d be immune.
I wasn’t.
Not even close.
He had a profound effect on me, every damn time. Like his soul was stitched to mine with some old, unspoken thread. And even now, my skin burned with the desire to have him touch me—it demanded it. All because he was close enough that I could smell the wild cedar and smoke clinging to his skin, like he’d been kissed by the woods themselves.
So no, it wasn’t shocking that my heart-rate spiked, or that my breath hitched—shallow and sharp. It was routine at this point.
Sebastian had mastered the art of getting under my skin, whether he meant to or not. He didn’t even need to speak. Around him, the truth didn’t feel like something I had to say–it felt like something he already knew, and was just gently waiting for me to say out aloud.
And still, my voice didn’t waver even though I was startled.
“What are you doing here?”
My head snapped toward the sparring circle, half-expecting to see him there—where he was supposed to be. Where I knew he should’ve been. But the space was taken by Maalikai.
Sebastian was supposed to be fighting.
He was supposed to be in the damn finals.
And yet, here he was.
Standing in front of me with his arms crossed and that maddeningly crooked smile on his lips, like none of this was out of the ordinary.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded a second time, my voice sharper than I intended.
He arched a brow. “Nice to see you too.”
My heart thudded like I’d just sprinted through the forest.
“You’re supposed to be fighting Thrainn. Or… I guess Maalikai.”
He shrugged—like it was nothing. Like giving up a shot at victory was just another Tuesday.
“I figured I’d already won what matters.”
I stared at him, words turning to ash on my tongue. “Gods, that was disgustingly smooth.”
The worst part? It worked. Something in the way he said it made my chest ache.
Sebastian smirked as he dropped onto the grass beside me, his sleeves pulling taut over his arms. The faint edge of his tattoo peeked out like it knew exactly what it was doing to me.
“You can talk,” he muttered. “I see you for two seconds and you bolt like I’ve got a plague.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m allergic to oversized egos.”
He snorted. “Then I must’ve given you hives for years. Still—doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly dodging me like I’m a cursed relic.”
“I’m not,” I said too quickly. “It’s just…”
His eyes narrowed with that infuriatingly accurate intuition. “Just what?”
I opened my mouth. Then closed it, without a word.
Damn, I was useless.
Without warning, Sebastian leaned in and wrapped his arms around me, anchoring me like he always had. Warm. Unshakable.
“I didn’t want to come,” I whispered. “Not without him.” The tears burned immediately, fighting their way out.
“I’ve got you,” he said, and when he pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, the sincerity there gutted me. “You’re not alone. You know that, right? I’ll always be here.”
That much, I believed with everything I had. “Thanks, Bastian.”
“What can I say?” He grinned, cocky and familiar. “I’d do anything for my bestie.” His grin was back, roguish and annoyingly irresistible.
“Uh-huh. Including emotionally devastating me with that smile?”
He nudged me with his shoulder, his hair brushing my cheek. The scent of ash clung to him—woodsmoke and heat, threaded with something uniquely him. My heart betrayed me by skipping.
I reminded myself—he’s your best friend.
Nothing more.
Even if I’d wished for more. A million times. We could never work. I told myself that on repeat. Like a prayer. Or a curse.
You’re just friends. You’ll always be just friends.
Liar.
“You’re just jealous because you miss me when I’m not around.”
“Or maybe you miss me so much, because I’m your only friend,” I said, striking back.
“Fuck you,” he grinned, with zero heat behind it. Only mischief.
And just like that, the weight lifted. The awkwardness vanished. That was the thing about Sebastian. We could joke and tease like idiots, but I also knew—without a doubt—he’d be there for me.
Always.
“So,” I said, changing the subject before my thoughts combusted, “you didn’t make finals?”
“Tragic, I know.” Sebastian sighed. “I really thought I had it this year.”
“What happened?”
He gave me a condescending look. “I lost.”
“Obviously. But who beat you?” He jerked his chin toward the arena, where Uncle Thrainn was squaring up against Maalikai
“Him?” I asked, eyes wide. “Seriously?”
Sebastian gave me a dry look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Could’ve used that during the fight. Truth is, I underestimated him. He’s better than he looks.”
“He doesn’t look half bad,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Sebastian’s jaw tightened, the flash of hurt in his eyes slicing straight through me. “So, what, you like him now?”
“No!” I said, voice rising like a guilty flare. “I don’t even know him.”
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.
The behemoth of a man, that was my uncle, took another step forward, raising his Goliath arms like he was greeting one of the Gods as he spoke. “It is here that the real glory is earned.” Uncle Thrainn paused and looked around at the people surrounding the ring—his people.
Ophelia was small, but over a hundred people had come out to enjoy the festival and watch this final tournament. He seemed to pause, considering his next words.
“It is especially important this year, as rumors of the warlord Xenthion reach us. Ophelia has always been sheltered from the rest of the realm–guarded by the forest, the cliffs, and the sea. But even that will not be enough. Our distance from the capital, Emberfalls, may have protected us once, but the tide is shifting. If his forces march against us, we will not remain untouched. We must begin preparations–before war reaches our gates.”
A foreboding gasp spread through the crowd, as though every single person breathed as one. He eyed each of his clansmen. “We all know that there has been unrest these last two decades. Hail the King and Queen of Agertheria! Lost from this world, but not from our hearts. We will not let another warlord raze our land to the ground! We fight in the Goddess’s honor! We await the rightful heir to the throne!”
Unfamiliar trepidation licked up my spine, leeching the color from my skin until I felt ghostly and hollow.
Rumors of a new warlord had been circling for months.
Since the tyrant Crixus was overthrown, Agertheria had been left fractured—no ruling party, no order. Just power-hungry regions left to their own devices.
Olag always had stories—tales of conflict and chaos picked up from wandering travelers. But they’d felt distant, like shadows on the horizon. Nothing more than whispers.
Until now.
Thrainn’s words made it real. Final.
It wasn’t a matter of if we’d be attacked.
It was when .
And just like that, something inside me split open—a surge of raw protectiveness unfurling in my chest, fierce and absolute.
If Xenthion came for Ophelia...
I would make him bleed.
Ignoring the tension in the crowd, Thrainn pressed on, raising his voice as he spoke. “After witnessing the fierceness of the competitions today, I do not doubt that we will be a force to contend with. Even against Xenthion’s warriors!”
A cheer rang through the crowd. A primal ferocity rose from the depths, like a living, breathing entity. Every man here would give up their life to defend their home and the people they loved. Our town may not be large in number, but we were a force to be reckoned with.
“All afternoon, we have battled tirelessly to make it to this one moment. Many have fallen short, only two contenders remain. Maalikai, my boy, come join me.”
My breath hitched; I prayed to the Gods that Sebastian hadn’t noticed.
Maalikai had to plant his legs so they wouldn’t buckle under the weight of Uncle Thrainn’s arm as he clasped him around his shoulders. “Today, we have a new challenger among us. He may not look like much, but we’ve all seen him shoot. Now, it’s time to see if he can fight.”
A cheer rang out amongst the crowd, the anticipation almost palpable.
“I only have one question for you, Maalikai; how easy do you want me to go on you?”
The edge of Maalikai’s jaw was carved like a threat, and the smirk that followed? Dangerous. I hated how easily my eyes caught on it–how even the ghost of a smile could ignite something reckless beneath my ribs.
“No need to go easy on me, Thrainn , I can beat you without the advantage.”
“Cocky little one, aren’t you?” My uncle chuckled low as he squeezed Maalikai’s shoulder.
There was hunger in Maalikai’s smile–something dark, unspoken. The kind of smile a predator wears right before it devours. It spread with lethal ease, like a wolf savoring the moment just before the kill.
“It’s only cockiness if you can’t deliver, otherwise, it’s simply confidence.”
A deep booming laugh erupted from my uncle. “Let’s put you to the test then.”
Maalikai seemed oddly calm, a quiet storm contained–exuding a kind of confidence that didn’t need to shout to be heard. It wrapped around him like a second skin, subtle but undeniable.
Fighting the urge to yell at him to get the Nexus out of there while he still had a chance, I just shook my head in disbelief.
“What is with him? Doesn’t he know he’s about to be slaughtered?”
Sebastian leaned forward in anticipation. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
My eyes shot to his in disbelief. “What do you mean? You can’t honestly believe he’s going to beat Uncle Thrainn.”
“I’m confident enough to put a wager on it.”
“Are you crazy? Uncle Thrainn is a beast, no one can beat him.”
A low rumble rose from deep in Sebastian’s chest as he weighed my words. “Normally, I’d say yes, but not today. There’s something about this kid, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Whatever it is, I know there’s no way this guy is going to lose.”
“What makes you such an expert?” I scoffed dramatically, annoyed at his confidence.
“I had him beaten–for a moment. But he didn’t back down. Every move I made, he matched. Countered like he’d studied me. It wasn’t just skill–it was precision. Controlled. Calculated. Like fighting my damn reflection–if my reflection was taller, moodier, and had a death wish. He wasn’t just fighting to win, he wanted to make sure I knew it. Like he was trying to prove something. Like he knew you’d be watching. And the outcome of our fight would decide unspoken terms between us.”
I blinked, incredulous. “As in… one of you would win me?” My voice was sharp, outraged. Murderous.
Sebastian didn’t flinch. “No, not win you.”
“Then what?” I demanded
He exhaled, jaw tight. “Like the other would walk away. Without a fight.”
I shook my head incredulously. “You’re out of your Gods-damned mind, you are reading way too much into this. I already told you, there is nothing between Maalikai and I.”
Sebastian turned to me with an all-too-familiar smile, one that left a sickening swirl in the base of my stomach. He was about to do something diabolical, we both knew it.
“Really? Care to make a wager?”
“All good with me.” This was going to be the easiest bet I’d ever won. “I’ll be more than happy to take your money.”
“Since you’re so damn confident, why don’t we make it interesting.”
A laugh bubbled through me; I was more than ecstatic to win a bet against him. I’d finally earn some bragging rights of my own.
“Name your price. Uncle Thrainn is a far superior swordsman than you.”
He shot me a look sharp enough to cut steel, but didn’t rise to the bait. Just ground his jaw and glared like he knew exactly what game I was playing–and wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction. “If Maalikai loses, I’ll finally convince Thrainn to let you come hunting with us.”
No friggin’ way, he had to be kidding. “Bullshit.”
“No bullshit.”
It felt like a lifetime ago since I’d last held a bow.
When I found out my father was sick, I took it hard. In a moment of desperation, I turned to the only thing that had ever quieted the chaos inside me—the stillness I found with a bow in hand. The steady breath, the silence before the release. But grief made me reckless.
One stupid slip-up.
I spotted a buck in the brush but was so lost in the darkness of my own mind, I didn’t realize I hadn’t nocked a fresh arrow. I dry-fired. The string snapped, and the bow cracked straight down the middle, splitting apart in my hands.
My father had already been too ill to make me another. And I never learned how.
A part of my soul still craved the weight of it—the comfort, the control. What Sebastian was offering now meant everything. And he knew it.
“You promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“Deal.”I didn’t hesitate. “And if Uncle Thrainn loses?”
Not that that was ever going to happen.
There was a wicked gleam in Sebastian’s eyes, one that could rival the trickster God Ezekiel himself–sharp, smug, and far too pleased with whatever chaos he was about to unleash.
Before he even spoke, I knew I’d just bargained for more than I was willing to lose.
“If Thrainn loses, you have to ask Maalikai out.”
“What in the actual Nexus?”My voice pitched. “No friggin’ way.”
“And here I was thinking you had balls of steel.”
The condescension dripped off every word, thick and deliberate.
Yep. He was pissed.
Too emotionally stunted to say he was hurt, so he weaponized bravado instead. Fucking guys—Gods forbid we actually talk about feelings.
Not that I was much better.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s beside the point. I’m not going to ask out someone I don’t even know just because I lost a bet. That’s stupid.”
“I thought you were confident you weren’t going to lose?”
He tossed it out casually, like it didn’t land right in my gut and twist.
He had a point. A smug, infuriating point. There was no way Uncle Thrainn was going to lose—not in this realm, not in the next.
But the thought of talking to Maalikai, let alone asking him out —and doing it on Sebastian’sterms? Yeah. That had my stomach tying itself into knots.
“I am,”I said, standing my ground.
“Then what’s the issue?”
His smile was a challenge now. Sharp. Knowing.
And Gods, I hated that I didn’t have an answer.
“If you like I can even hold your hand, so you don’t get scared,” he taunted.
Girls in the village loved Sebastian. Not only was he hot as fuck, and I mean, holy hot damn hot, but because of his playful personality. Which currently was pissing me off.
“Shut up!” I wasn’t sure what he was playing at, but it would be uncharacteristic of Sebastian not to have a plan; he was up to something. “What do you get out of this?”
“I get to see you act like a bumbling idiot, and we both know how much enjoyment I get out of that.”
Of course he did. Why was I not surprised, “Seriously?”
He shrugged offhandedly. “Ophelia gets so boring when you’re not here to torture. I’ve got to make up lost time.”
“You know I friggin’ hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You love me; in fact, I’m your favorite person in the world.”
“No, you’re not. There are the twins; they’re not as much of a pain in my arse as you are.”
Sebastian’s laugh was brilliantly carefree. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you a coward, Em, or do you want to make a deal with Ezekiel?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
I held out my hand ready to seal my fate.
“That’s what I thought.” Sebastian took my hand. I squeezed slightly harder than I needed, making his smile widen.