Page 136 of Emylia

Shooting Sebastian a dark look, I put up a hand, signaling him to stop. “I don’t think I can handle another conversation about pickles.”

“No pickles, I promise.”

A laugh escaped me. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Don’t be like that, I promise I’ll behave.” A familiar twinkle sparkled in Sebastian’s molten gold eyes.

I didn’t believe that for even half a second. But how could I refuse him?

“You don’t have shoes on,” I said, looking at his bare feet. A breath escaped me as I visibly relaxed. “Hurry up, before I change my mind.”

“It’s alright, I can escort her,” Maalikai said, his tone too smooth.

Sebastian stepped forward, jaw tight, voice razor-sharp, a snarl curling his lips. “Like fuck you will.”

Before Mallikai could so much as breathe a reply, Thrainn cut in, stepping forward with the weight of finality.

“No need.I’llescort her. I need to speak with her anyway.” Thrainn moved to my side, delivering his words as an order, not a request.

This was going to be all kinds of fun.

Sebastian cringed but didn’t hesitate—leaving without argument. Uncle Thrainn and I followed, leaving a murderous Josephine, Evie, with barely hidden amusement and Maalikai—silent and unreadable, brooding in the shadows of my room, his gaze burning into me as I walked away.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Islowed my steps, trepidation forming around me like a second skin. Last night hadn’t left my uncle and I in a good place, but I could hardly deny the chief.

The nip of the cold wind froze me the instant we stepped outside. Gods, it was cold. I should’ve brought a Gods-damn cloak.

With teeth chattering uncontrollably, I hurried to catch up to my uncle. His strides were twice the length of mine, each step forcing me to take two just to keep pace.

He came to an abrupt halt beside the woodpile and turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“Sometimes, I think you’ve got more fire in you than I do, lass.” Uncle Thrainn fidgeted, which was… uncharacteristic, to say the least.

I’d never seen the oversized bear of a man look so apprehensive—and that alone was enough to scare the crap out of me. Half of me wanted to bolt. The other half needed to hear whatever it was he’d brought me out here to say.

No surprise—curiosity won.

“Uncle?” I asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

For a long, aching moment, he just looked at me—his gaze full of a grief I’d never seen in him before. And it shattered something inside me.

“You were always your father’s heart and joy,” he said, voice rough. “I’ve never seen a man prouder than he was of you.”

Oh Gods. This was worse than I expected.

He wanted to talk about my father.

Tears pricked at my eyes the second he said it. We hadn’t spoken about my father since he passed. I knew how hard this must’ve been for him.

“You’ve got fight in you,” he added, softer now. “More than I dare to imagine.”

He paused again, swallowing hard. A few long moments passed as he wrestled for control of his emotions. When he finally spoke again, his voice was steadier, but thick with feeling.

“I miss my brother more than I ever thought possible. And when I look at you, I see his fire. His determination. His strength. I didn’t think there was a single thing that old oaf couldn’t do when he set his mind to it.” He smiled sadly. “Your heart is the spitting image of his.” A long, silent sigh left him. “I know you miss him. We all do. But as long as we have you... he’s not gone.”

He pulled me into a crushing hug, and I let myself melt into it. If I shut my eyes, I could almost believe it was my father holding me.

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