Page 61 of Emylia

And I loved it!

Josephine shot a venomous glare in my direction, rage simmering beneath the surface, threatening to break through her perfect facade.

“Fine. Come on Evie.” She spun on her heel and stormed off, Evie trailing reluctantly behind.

Maalikai turned back to me, concern replacing the coldness in his onyx eyes. “Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I repeated, softer this time.

The protective intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. I quickly looked away, afraid my walls might crumble.

A shadow of a smile disintegrated the lingering hardness in his gaze. Was this the first time I’d seen him smile around other people?

Or at least a resemblance of something that wasn’t flat out disdain.

It was disconcerting how wildly it changed his appearance, like he could almost be approachable.

Almost.

“Come one, let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for a response before gently taking my hand and guiding me forward. I hesitated only briefly before fully surrendering to his touch.

For a moment, I allowed myself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, someone like Maalikai could see beyond my meticulously fabricated walls.

But hope was a dangerous thing, and I knew better than to let it take root.

ChapterFifteen

Beautiful oranges and reds spilled across the sky, looking infinite, covering the atmosphere like an extravagant explosion. Before my eyes, the colors of sunset darkened, hues of the most exquisite lilac and mulberry stealing the remainder of my breath as I took a moment to watch the first stars light the sky.

It was a tradition to celebrate the Goddess Elessandria outside, enjoying the beauty of the earth. She wasn’t just our creator; she had a unique bond with nature. We wanted to honor that bond, the best we could.

Maalikai walked beside me, his hand firmly entwined with mine. An magnetic current danced between us, powerful and exhilarating, as if the universe itself had meticulously crafted us to fit perfectly together—two souls shaped from the same cosmic storm. And if I was truthful with myself, it was exactly what I needed—something I’d never known I wanted, but now that I’d found it, found him, everything felt just right.

As we made our way into town, I noticed it was bustling in the twilight. Those who had been drinking ale throughout the day were laughing raucously. Mothers were tracking down children in preparation for the feast, while grown men animately discussed today’s competitions, and young girls giggled in pairs as they hungrily devoured young male suitors with their eyes.

I was just about to lose myself in the mesmerising sights when a familiar looming figure stepped forward, blocking everything from my view.

“Emylia,” my uncle said gently, nodding a greeting. “Could I borrow Maalikai for a moment? There’s something important I’d like to discuss with him privately, before the celebrations begin.” His expression was unusually serious, the ridges between his eyes furrowed into a dark glare.

“Of course,” I replied, releasing Maalikai’s hand slowly, curiosity briefly overshadowing the beauty around me as I watched them walk away, tension evident in Thrainn’s normally composed stride.

Returning my attention to the festivities, I appreciated dresses of every imaginable color and style as they merged into an endless, shifting sea of rainbows—scarlet glowed like embers, twilight blues rippled like liquid moonlight and golds shone as brightly as the sun’s final breath.

This was Opehlia’s highlight event of the year and most women went all out for the evening feast. Ophelia was somewhat sheltered from the rest of the world by the Aelinthian Forrest. It created a natural barrier that kept out aggressors… but also other cultures.

I watched the corseted waistlines, laced sleeves, and full skirts with curiosity as I wondered what the rest of the world thought was the latest fashion—because Ophelia sure as heck did not have the latest fashion.

The gowns were beautiful, no doubt, but it took years for any new trends to filter this far south. Except for my mother’s creations. She always had an eye for unique and beautiful fashion. Maybe that was the reason Josephine was extra vicious tonight—no dress, not even hers, could compare to my mother’s creation.

As my eyes trailed to the main event, the feast, even my weary heart lifted. Table after table had been set up in long lines resulting in a square around the center of town, covered in wildflower bouquets handmade by some of the women and an assortment of the most extravagant foods.

Roast duck, steamed carrots, fig pudding, honeyed lamb, cinnamon dates, baked bread, and more. The entire town had brought food from their homes, cooked in their ovens. Mismatched plates didn’t detract from the beauty. It was as delicious for my soul as it would be for my stomach.

Every single person contributed to the festival; this year my mother and I had made candles out of beeswax, their wicks already a soft glow in the failing light.

I saw a familiar roguishly handsome face snagging an olive off the table from one of the dishes and chortled to myself. Sebastian pulled out the chair and sat down, folding his arms over his chest.

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