Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
D espite the boys flexing their muscles and competing in every way possible, they’d both left me alone that night. To sleep by myself. To contemplate.
Honestly, I think they wanted it that way. For this to be my decision. For me to come to them—not be forced into a situation I couldn’t find my way out of.
So I took the night to just... breathe. To sit with my thoughts. And I enjoyed the quiet. Because once I’d been with both of them—once that line had been crossed—everything would change.
Even if I didn’t want it to.
There was a knock at my door. Three consecutive taps.
“Princess?”
Maalikai.
“You ready to harness those magik powers of yours?”
I pushed off the bed, already dressed in black leather pants and a fitted top. There was no point hiding anymore. No point pretending I was anything less than what I was—a weapon of mass destruction.
I may as well embrace it.
I paused just before opening the door, pressing my palm to the wood. My heart thudded once, then twice, before I finally pulled it open.
Maalikai stood leaning against the doorframe, the disheveled locks of his onyx hair brushing his cheekbones. They were still damp—droplets of water clinging to the strands, occasionally dripping to the floor or soaking into his jet-black shirt. He looked carved from stone, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath the soaked fabric, lips parted slightly like he’d been about to speak.
My gaze caught on him and stayed there.
“Then we have some hand-to-hand combat.” His eyes dragged over me, assessing every inch—slow and deliberate. That lingering gaze made me increasingly aware of the tension pulsing between us. Of the heat pooling low in my belly.
“Alone.”
I swallowed hard.
“I need to stop at Akaela first. Harness her power.”
His mouth twitched, like he appreciated the focus. “Of course. I’m here to escort you.”
He offered me his arm. A heartbeat passed before I took it, my fingers curling through his, the heat of his skin grounding me more than I cared to admit.
He led me down the spiraling staircase. We walked in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt heavy with meaning, humming with unspoken things.
When we reached Akaela, Maalikai gently swept a curtain of vines aside, the smell of jasmine spilling into the path. He waited behind me, giving me space but not distance, his presence a steady pulse at my back.
The familiar thrum of power vibrated through me, curling around my soul and filling it with a strength that had come to feel like home. I laid my hand against Akaela’s bark, feeling her respond. My chest lifted with each breath, the magik humming to life in my veins.
I severed the bond and stepped back.
“You ready?” Maalikai asked, voice softer now.
I nodded, and took his offered arm.
Distance evaporated as I walked side by side with Maalikai, his hand in mine, feeling like it somehow perfectly fit. We didn’t need words. This was enough.
When we reached the clearing, I noticed Sebastian standing to the side, arms crossed over his chest. He gave me a nod.
“You’ve got this, Em.”
It was more than I could hope for—more than I could dream—considering what he must be feeling. But he held himself well. Nothing like the other interactions when Maalikai was also in my presence.
My mother cleared her throat.
“Earth is not something you just move,” she said. “It’s something you listen to. You don’t control it. You respect it.”
“Sounds like this is going to be easy, huh,” Sebastian muttered from my left, repositioning himself against a stone pillar like he had no intention of participating—but every intention of scrutinizing my every move.
His shirt was half-unbuttoned, like he was allergic to proper attire. And truthfully, it suited him.
“Try not to cause an earthquake or split the earth open and swallow us.” Sebastian added with a roguish smile.
I didn’t dignify him with a response. Not when my pulse was already thundering too loud.
Maalikai stood on the opposite side, silent. Focused. Unreadable.
Great. Two halves of my heart. One task.
No pressure.
“Take your shoes off, so you can feel it. The dirt between your toes, the power that resides within.”
Without a word I sat down, discarding my boots, before standing to my full height. Taking a deep breath, I took a step forward.
There was nothing at first. No pull of power, no shudder of awareness. I took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of dirt on my feet.
It was cool, and soft. I wiggled my toes, dirt sinking between them, fully coating them with earth. Then the smell hit me. Deep, ancient. The smell of power, of magik that only resided in the depths of the ground–power grown in roots and bones.
A pulse shuddered through me, as if the earth welcomed me. It yielded beneath my weight—soft and rich, humming beneath my feet like a heartbeat under stone.
“Breathe in,” my mother whispered. “Let the stillness in.”
I closed my eyes. Reached inward. Felt the familiar unfurling of power.
Earth didn’t hum like water. It waited. Patient. Expectant.
But there was weight to it. A heaviness. A judgment. Like it had seen my rage, my fire, my grief—and it was deciding whether I was worthy to harness it.
I didn’t blame it.
I wasn’t sure if I would deem myself worthy either.
I gritted my teeth and pushed deeper. My fingers curled around the power, commanding it. And slowly—so slowly—small pebbles began to tremble.
The ground vibrated beneath my feet, not with fury, but with recognition. The earth cracked open, a jagged split in the soil in front of me. Nothing large or spectacular, but it was enough. Small shoots of green pierced the surface in fast, explosive bursts. Vines unfurled from nowhere, coiling in rhythm with my breath.
I gasped. Surprised by how the power had manifested. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting, but this hadn’t been it.
The brief loss of concentration was enough to lose a grasp on the power. The vines began to sway, not in the breeze, but of their own volition, growing wild.
“You are in control. Not the other way around. Prove it.” My mother’s voice cut through the chaos–steady, unwavering. She stepped closer, placing a firm hand over mine, grounding me.
“Breathe. Feel it. Don’t let it own you.” Her eyes searched mine, not with fear–but fierce belief.
“Now show me.”
I could do this. I knew I could.
I focused on the feeling inside—on the silvery, shimmering thread that linked me to the earth. I honed in on it. The pull. The feel of it. I mentally grasped it and felt it shudder, but it didn’t fracture.
“Good. Now push a little further.”
“You’ve got this!” Sebastian cheered from the distance.
I drowned him out, focusing on the thread.
I grounded my feet, bracing. Then I pushed harder, reaching deeper into the soil, drawing power and surging it forward. The thread linking me to the earth flared—brighter, stronger—transcending into something more.
From somewhere in the distance, a boulder cracked. The sound ricocheted through the clearing like something ancient had split wide open, the ground shuddering from impact.
“Emylia. Reign it in.”
I tried to pull the magik back. To snap the connection. But it wouldn’t sever. Wouldn’t break.
“I… I can’t.”
“Shit.” Sebastian’s voice was louder now—closer. Protective.
The ground split open again, but this time it was destructive, gaping wounds inside the earth. Before I could mutter my shock, jagged spires of rock speared out of the ground. Cataclysmic, destructive, like they were out for retribution—like my power had evoked a long-forgotten wrath.
Panic seized me, the remainder of my control crumbling. A scream echoed, as Maalikai knocked my mother to the ground, a spire of destruction so close that if he hadn’t intervened she would’ve been impaled.
“Move back!” I shouted. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
And then—I lost all control.
A tree groaned nearby.
Bark splintered.
The vines lashed out.
“Em—”
Sebastian stepped forward, voice sharp, heat radiating as he closed the distance between us.
“No. Get back.” My voice broke, afraid that I would inadvertently hurt him.
I wouldn’t survive that.
“I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”
His fingers found mine. The warmth of his skin, the smell of him—earth and fire—curled around me.
Centered me.
“You’ve got this. Just focus on what calms you. Focus on me.”
The weight of his hand was perfect in mine—like it had always belonged there. Like he was claiming a part of my soul he’d always held.
My heart steadied, its rhythm syncing to his.
“Remember when we were first learning to shoot?” His voice was low behind me. “We used to rush the shot. But after a while, we began to slow down. To feel the rhythm of the forest.”
He was right behind me now—his chest against my back. His hands slid up and down my arms in slow, soothing strokes. My head fell back into the curve of his shoulder.
And the vines stilled, waiting for something.
Waiting for me.
“That’s it. You’ve got this.”
His hand shadowed my stomach, the brush of his fingers snapping my insides taut, coiling me so tightly it was hard to breathe.
“Don’t second-guess yourself. Don’t second-guess your power. This is yours to command—a rightful gift that just needs you to claim it. To tell it you’re not afraid of it. Of what it makes you.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“You do. It’s the way you claimed me without even knowing it. You called to me. Coiled me with the power you possess without even realizing it. What you are is perfect. Unapologetic. Anything you command would fall to its knees if you ask, so just do it. Ask, and it will follow.”
Oh my Gods. Okay.
Instead of searching for the thread, I commanded it to come to me. To obey me. To bend to my will.
The earth resisted. For a moment. And then—it responded.
The vines coiled neatly back into the ground. The cracked stone reformed, stitching together in front of me. New freshly budded blades of grass unfurled, flowers blooming from destruction.
The magik didn’t just settle. It exhaled.
Peace returned.
Then—
“Holy shit.” Sebastian gave a low whistle, eyes wide. “Already an Earth Goddess. Why am I not surprised.”
I doubled over, palms on my knees, breath hitching.
But this time… Not from fear.
From power.
It was mine.
And I’d made it listen.