Page 30 of Emylia

“Sebastian.” The name left me like a prayer to the Gods.

He’d changed since I’d last seen him—slightly. Still dressed head to toe in black, of course. But his sleeves were shorter now, stretched taut over boulder-sized biceps that looked seconds away from tearing the seams. The dark fabric contrasted perfectly against his dusty brown skin, flecks of his phoenix tattoo catching and reflecting the light as though the flames had come alive.

And the messy brunette hair of his, that always stuck to the side from running his hand through it too many times, left me speechless. A dusting of stubble lined his chiseled jaw, and that stupidly perfect white smile greeted me like always.

But all of that faded in comparison to his eyes.

Amber, molten, stained with flecks of black—like honey cracked open under a storm. I got lost in them every single time. You’d think, after all these years as best friends, I’d be immune.

I wasn’t.

Not even close.

He had a profound effect on me, every damn time. Like his soul was stitched to mine with some old, unspoken thread. And even now, my skin burned with the desire to have him touch me—it demanded it. All because he was close enough that I could smell the wild cedar and smoke clinging to his skin, like he’d been kissed by the woods themselves.

So no, it wasn’t shocking that my heart-rate spiked, or that my breath hitched—shallow and sharp. It was routine at this point.

Sebastian had mastered the art of getting under my skin, whether he meant to or not. He didn’t even need to speak. Around him, the truth didn’t feel like something I had to say–it felt like something he already knew, and was just gently waiting for me to say out aloud.

And still, my voice didn’t waver even though I was startled.

“What are you doing here?”

My head snapped toward the sparring circle, half-expecting to see him there—where he was supposed to be. Where Iknewhe should’ve been. But the space was taken by Maalikai.

Sebastian was supposed to be fighting.

He was supposed to be in the damn finals.

And yet, here he was.

Standing in front of me with his arms crossed and that maddeningly crooked smile on his lips, like none of this was out of the ordinary.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded a second time, my voice sharper than I intended.

He arched a brow. “Nice to see you too.”

My heart thudded like I’d just sprinted through the forest.

“You’re supposed to be fighting Thrainn. Or… I guess Maalikai.”

He shrugged—like it was nothing. Like giving up a shot at victory was just another Tuesday.

“I figured I’d already won what matters.”

I stared at him, words turning to ash on my tongue. “Gods, that was disgustingly smooth.”

The worst part? It worked. Something in the way he said it made my chest ache.

Sebastian smirked as he dropped onto the grass beside me, his sleeves pulling taut over his arms. The faint edge of his tattoo peeked out like it knew exactly what it was doing to me.

“You can talk,” he muttered. “I see you for two seconds and you bolt like I’ve got a plague.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m allergic to oversized egos.”

He snorted. “Then I must’ve given you hives for years. Still—doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly dodging me like I’m a cursed relic.”

“I’m not,” I said too quickly. “It’s just…”

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