Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I made my way down to the mess hall. As I stepped inside the stone-walled chamber, the scent of warm bread and pan-fried meat wrapped around me like a familiar blanket.
The soft clatter of cutlery and murmurs of half-awake conversation echoed off the cold walls, a quiet comfort in the still-early light.
Sunlight spilled through the high windows, catching on steam curling from mugs of spiced tea and fresh pastries warm from the ovens.
The scent of minced fruit and golden-bronzed pastry curled through the air–sweet, rich, and shamelessly inviting. Buttery warmth mingled with the tang of stewed fruit, wrapping around me like a promise, and my stomach growled like I hadn’t eaten in days.
Wildflowers lined the tables, baby’s breath scattered through the arrangements, curling down the length of the oak tabletop. Pops of white broke through the mismatched plates and beeswax candles that weren’t yet lit with flame.
I slid into an empty seat at the long table, rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes. The spot across from me was already taken—flame-red hair and a pile of fruit on her plate.
Evie.
She didn’t look up. Just sliced an apple with meticulous care, her knife flashing in the morning light.
“Didn’t peg you for an early riser,” I said, trying for casual.
She glanced up at me through long lashes, something sharp and unreadable in her gaze. Her hair caught the light and shone like flames.
“Didn’t peg you for the talkative type.”
Fair enough. I kind of deserved that.
I just couldn’t tell if she was teasing or being serious–her expression gave nothing away.
I reached for a hunk of bread, tearing it with more force than necessary. “You always cut your fruit like it’s the enemy?”
A twitch at the corner of her lips. Almost a smile. “Only when I’m sitting across from someone who is my enemy.” The ghost of a grin lifted the corner of her mouth, now I definitely knew she was teasing.
I snorted. “Well, lucky for you, I’m too tired to be devious.”
We fell into silence—the kind that stretches between two people who haven’t decided whether they’re going to be allies or adversaries. Truthfully, I still didn’t know how I felt about her–or the creeping realization that she might be a far more worthy adversary than I’d first believed.
So I kept my walls raised, at least until I could fully trust her. The fact that she hadn’t revealed my weaponry skills or magik? That was definitely working in her favour.
I glanced at her hands—not calloused like mine, but not soft either. And there was something familiar in the way she sat: straight-backed, alert, like she was ready to stand her ground if she needed to. Like she had an air of nobility—and being Thrainn’s daughter, she did.
She was held to a level that wasn’t expected of the rest of us. And she had always embraced it, never resented it. Even when she’d backed Josephine, it never felt like she was choosing sides—just being there for whoever needed her.
A true leader.
Definitely Thrainn’s daughter. Raised to be his shadow—even if she was softer. More gentle than him.
She must’ve felt me staring, because she looked up again. “What?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Just... you remind me of someone.”
She held my gaze a beat too long. “Yeh, I get that a lot.”
“Thrainn?”
“That’s the one–eldest, red-haired daughter of the Chief.”
The way she said it… it landed like a blow. As if she’d heard it before–spoken with spite, or laced with condescension. But that’s not what I meant.
Not at all.
“It’s not the hair,” I said quickly. “It’s your hands. The way you sit.”
“That’s so much better,” her words came out sharp and sudden, a reflex born of fear, not malice. It wasn’t rage in her voice, it was armor. And I knew I must’ve really offended her, because she was someone who never snapped.
“I’m not good at this, Evie.” I sighed. “What I’m trying to say is–you’re not like the other girls. Your hands are beautiful and soft, completely feminine… but there’s an edge to them. A brutality. A skill most women wouldn’t dream of holding.” I met her eyes. “And the way you sit–like a Gods-damned Queen. Like you carry a power just by breathing.”
She looked away. Just for a second.
When she met my eyes again, something had shifted. The bite was still there–but dulled, like a blade worn by use.
“You really think that?” She asked, quieter now. Not snide. Just… unsure.
I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
Evie exhaled, and the edge in her posture loosened just a little.
“Well,” she said, tugging a loose thread on her sleeve, “I guess there are worse things to be called than a Queen.”
A smile crept into my eyes. “And you know what, I used to get that too. About me being just like dad. It was an honor.”
A shadow flickered across hers. “Uncle Atlas was the best.”
“He was.”
“He watched out for me. Treated me like his own daughter.” Just like Thrainn had done for me. “It still feels like he does,” she added softly.
I nodded. “I know what you mean. Like he’s watching over us. Like I can still feel his presence.”
Because I still felt him—like the wind hadn’t quite let him go.
A heartbeat passed between us. Then another.
“We’re heading down to the cliff near the willow after breakfast,” I said, keeping my tone light. “You want to come?”
“To practice more magik?”
My eyes met hers like she’d drawn a sword and dared me to deny it.
I held her gaze, guarded, daring her to say more. “Maybe.”
“You still think I’m going to turn you in, don’t you?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Please,” she drawled, popping a slice of apple into her mouth, “if you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t have invited me to come watch you practice.”
“I hadn’t decided if I was going to let you watch yet,” I shot back with no heat.
She shrugged. “Think about it this way—if I did tell anyone, which I’m not going to, they wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
Well, that was true. Magik was now just a legend—a story told to children. Long forgotten in the world we lived in.
Or so I’d thought.
No one would believe I—an outcast and destroyer of the very fabric of Ophelian law—had been blessed by the Gods.
My smile was instant. “I guess it’s decided then. You’re coming with me.”
“No, she’s not.” His voice was sharp, low–a warning wrapped in steel.
My eyes collided with Maalikai’s. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t blink. Just picked up a piece of bacon and took a slow, deliberate bite, chewing like he had all the time in the world.
“You heard me,”he said, speaking around it. “She’s not coming.”
I planted both palms on the table, voice tight. “Why not?”
He shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. “Plans have changed. No magik today. You and I have one-on-one sparring.”
I scoffed, grabbing my cup and taking a sip, just to stop myself from throwing something at his pretty little face. “What about Sebastian?”
Maalikai wiped the grease from his hands on a folded yellow napkin before discarding it.
“He’s on an errand. So it’s just you and me.”
I straightened, defiance prickling up my spine. “Can Evie still come?”
He glanced at Evie, then back at me. “Normally I’d say yes. But not today.”
Before I could argue, he turned and walked off like the conversation was already buried.
I turned to Evie, guilt already clawing at me. “I’m so sorry.”
She waved it off with a half-smile. “It’s okay. Next time.”
But I saw the disappointment flicker in her eyes. Quiet. Raw.
I was so going to make Maalikai pay for this.
I grabbed the dagger I’d left on the table—the one I’d used to slice my own apple—wiped it on my dress, and sheathed it with a sharp click. Then I jogged after him, boots thudding across the stone floor.
The sun blinded me as I stepped outside the mess hall, momentarily making me falter. Blinking against the glare, I caught a flicker of black disappearing into the first row of trees.
Maalikai had already reached the forest.
Gods, how did he move that fast?
It was inhuman.
Refusing to run after him like some love-struck girl, I took my time—meandering toward the clearing that was now known as the sparring field.
Knowing that every delayed second I took would infuriate him further, brought an oddly satisfied smile to my lips.
Screw him.
He was used to being followed. Like a born leader—confident, in control, worshipped without question.
So I was going to push that. Until he broke.
Or until he yielded.
He may've summoned me to the fight, but I was the one who needed this war.
He was clearly fighting for control.
But I just wanted blood.
So let’s see who gets what they came for.