Page 197 of Emylia

“One hour. Two pies. Winner gets…”I glanced at Evie.

“A night under the stars, no guards allowed, just a camp-out?”she offered.

“Deal,”Sebastian said instantly. “We’re in.”

“You don’t even know how to bake,”Maalikai muttered.

“No, but I know how to sabotage,”Sebastian replied, grinning.

“If you touch my crust,”I warned, “I will strike you with lightning.”

Evie tried to hide her smile as she reached for the cinnamon.

“This is insane,”she said softly.

“It’s about time you joined the madness.”

And just like that, the room erupted into motion—bowls clattering, apples flying, flour dusting the air like fresh snow. Maalikai, of course, measured everything like we were forging a weapon. Sebastian tossed in spices like he was crafting a love potion. Evie pretended she wasn’t enjoying herself, but her laughter lit up the room. And me? I let myself forget the world for one hour of sticky fingers, cinnamon lips, and something dangerously close to joy.

The pies came out uneven.

Ours was golden, flaky, and a little lopsided—apples spilling out the side like it couldn’t quite contain itself. The boys’ was… burnt. Charred on one edge, undercooked on the other, and Sebastian had somehow managed to leave the core in threeslices.

“What happened?”Evie asked, eyeing their disaster with barely concealed glee.

“It’s rustic,”Sebastian offered, arms crossed. “A deconstructed culinary experience.”

“It’s a crime against fruit,”I said, smirking as I tore into our pie with a spoon. The crust crumbled like heaven, the filling warm and spiced and perfect.

Maalikai frowned down at his creation like it had personally betrayed him.

“We were sabotaged.”

“You sabotaged yourselves,”Evie said sweetly, licking cinnamon from her thumb.

“Admit it,”I grinned. “We won.”

Sebastian groaned, collapsing into a chair. “Fine. You get your stupid night under the stars.”

“Excellent,”I said, dragging Evie toward the door. “Pack light. No guarding tonight. And bring extra blankets—I’m not freezing for victory.”

We climbed the cliff path in near-darkness, lantern swinging between us as the sky melted into violet and navy. The sea churned far below, the wind rising in quiet gusts that tangled our hair and carried the smell of salt and wind.

We found the old spot—our spot. The one we used to sneak to when we were kids, back when life was simpler and the world hadn’t divided us into different destinies.

Evie spread the blanket while I started the fire, coaxing sparks from damp wood with a whispered thread of magik. The flames caught as easy as breathing.

We didn’t speak for a while. We didn’t need to.

The stars blinked into place overhead, slow and steady. The cliff beneath us hummed with memory.

“Do you ever miss it?”she asked, voice barely louder than the wind.

“What?”

“Before all of this. Before war and magik and fate.” She whispered it like it belonged only to us–soft and sacred, like a secret tucked in the space between out breaths.

I stared into the fire.

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