Page 167 of Emylia

Because the truth I’d buried beneath shame and silence–the truth I could no longer deny, not even to myself–was that I loved them both.

And Iwantedthem both.

Desperately.

Entirely.

And I hated myself for it.

ChapterThirty-Five

Moving faster than I should’ve been able to, I pulled on my clothes. My body moved on instinct, like dressing might somehow tether me to something real—something tangible.

I wanted to wear something simple—my leather pants and a top—but Evie was here now, and I wasn’t in the mood for questions. Even though her mood had softened, I was still wary of how she’d react to who I truly was–to my magik. She was family, but I wasn't sure to what extent I could trust her.

Instead, I grabbed a purple dress—the one with the intricately beaded bodice and the delicate blue stone at its center. It felt like armor disguised as beauty. The skirt was sheer, layered, easy to pin at the hips. Elegant, but built for movement.

Quiet as a shadow, I slipped outside, down the spiral staircase woven with thick curling vines of jasmine. The blossoms coated the air in sweetness.

Dark, ominous clouds stained the sky, threatening to release a deluge at any second. Rain lingered on the edge of the wind, waiting. It stung my cheeks as I crossed the clearing, cold enough to make my eyes water. But I didn’t stop.

My heart still reeled—from Maalikai’s words, from the truth I didn’t want to face. I wasn’t ready to be seen. So I let my feet carry me to the one place that still felt likehisarms.

The cliff.

Ourplace.

It rose from the land like it had always belonged—wild and untouched. Below, waves thundered against stone, roaring like they held secrets only the sea could keep. I remembered sitting here as a child, legs swinging over the edge, while my father whispered stories about magik.

He never spoke them aloud to others—only ever to me and the stars. Maybe that was his way of trying to tell me something. That I was more. Touched by the Gods in a way I could never fathom. Never believe. Not until I was truly ready.

Maybe he’d been preparing me for this moment my entire life.

Maybe I was finally ready.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of the willow.Mywillow.

It stood at the cliff’s edge—defiant, unyielding, like it welcomed the wrath of the sea and thrived off the violence roiling around it.

It shouldn’t have been possible for a tree to grow in a place so wind-swept, so exposed. But it had.

And it hadthrived.

Vines of orange blossom twisted through its branches, tangled with cherry blooms and violet pansies. It looked like something from another world. Not just beautiful—magikal. Alive in a way the rest of the world wasn’t.

Defying what was real just by existing.

Just like me.

My feet moved without thought, drawn forward like the tree had summoned me.

As I approached, the air changed.

The vines swayed—but not with the wind. Theyreached. Reacted to me like I had somehow called them.

One curled through the air, slow and intentional, brushing my fingertips before winding delicately around my finger. Where it touched, blossoms unfurled—glowing violet and white, like stars blooming in the night sky.

The treeshivered. Not in the wind.

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