Page 36 of Emylia

“You already know the answer to that.”

I held out my hand ready to seal my fate.

“That’s what I thought.” Sebastian took my hand. I squeezed slightly harder than I needed, making his smile widen.

ChapterEleven

Thrainn stepped forward, his behemoth body almost blocking out the sun. A shadow spread across the crowd as he raised his sword, its tip unwavering, as it pointed at Maalikai.

Determination etched itself into every line of his face. Stoic, tenacious, like he faced the blade of an unknown enemy. If he believed the match was already his, he gave no sign.

A single second passed then Thrainn launched his assault. His blade came down with the force of the Gods, steel meeting steel in a clash so brutal that even I flinched. Or maybe it was my personal stake that made me jumpy.

Maalikai braced himself, the grip on his sword visibly slipping, but somehow he managed to readjust, gripping the hilt with both hands, his muscles literally bulging under the pressure of Thrainn’s attack. His jaw ticked, his teeth clenching but the light in his eyes remained, burning with something wild.

Something dangerous.

It almost looked like he relished the challenge.

A slow smirk spread across my lips. “You’re so going down, Bastian.”

Sebastian chuckled beside me. “We’ll see.”

They broke apart, circling like predators, each measuring the other with lethal precision—wild beasts ensnared in the same deadly game.

Thrainn blinked, and in that breath of hesitation, Maalikai was already upon him, moving like a wraith unraveling from the shadows. He was silent as death and as merciless as Ezekiel’s blade.

And just as lethal.

His sword slashed, the attack deliberate but measured, barely grazing my uncle’s blade.

Someone scoffed from the crowd, dismissing the blow as careless, but Sebastian and I knew better. Maalikai wasn’t attacking—he was learning. Testing. Discovering the weakness in Thrainn’s defence before committing to the kill.

Another breath of a second passed before Maalikai launched forward, leading with a series of attacks that pushed Thrainn’s advantage, stealing it for himself. Shock plastered on my uncle’s face, concern wrinkling his features into a dark shadow as he tried and only just managed to hold off the barrage of attacks.

As soon as my uncle seemed to anticipate Maalikai’s movements, Maalikai changed them up, attacking him with an entirely different technique, like he was a completely different fighter.

Maalikai’s blade tasted skin, tearing open flesh and sinew, thick almost black blood trickled down the chieftains arm.

“Fuck.” Thrainn’s growl silenced the crowd, the cheering instantly evaporating.

Chuckling, he shoke his head. “You little fucker, you’re as good with a sword as you are with a bow.”

Maalikai lips quirked into a diabolical smile. “I did warn you.”

“Aye, you did. But I thought you were full of shit.”

An irresistible smile lit up Maalikai’s features, his scoff the only sound in the otherwise silent field.

A storm of determination darkened my uncle’s expression. A tremor of movement rippled through him, the barest hint of motion—but before he could take a step, Maalikai dropped to one knee, spinning in a rage of fury, sword slashing through the air, sounding like the whisper of death.

At the last second, Thrainn hurled himself backwards, his blade crashing down with bone-rattling impact. The sound crackled through the air—thunderous, violent—stopping the strike a breath away from devastation.

It was close.

Too damn close.

He barely avoided being gutted.

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