Page 69 of Emylia

The scrape of wood against the dirt encrusted earth billowed around him like smoke snaking through the air, as his chair hit the ground. And for a moment—just a moment—they stood face to face, breath shallow, jaws tight, both seconds from breaking.

A crack split through the air. The flames in the sconces exploded upward, roaring with unnatural life, casting wild shadows across the oak tables. Every cup on the table shuddered. A wine goblet cracked clean in half. The ground beneath my feet throbbed—like something ancient had stirred awake.

“Enough!” My voice cracked through the tension like lightning. Neither flinched, but now I had both of their attention.

“Enough!” My hand slammed the table, and this time—something answered.

The flames in the sconces flared again. The magik in the air coiled, alive and electric, like the world itself was holding its breath. And then—my hand hit the table. Hard.

Both of them froze. Maalikai’s eyes widened a fraction, jaw tightening—not in fear, but in recognition. Sebastian’s hand was on mine in an instant, a ghost of familiarity, but it wasn't enough to pull me out of whatever consumed me.

The air around me hummed, thick and electric, the scent of scorched earth curling at the edges of the feast.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

It wasn’t just rage pulsing through me—it was something deeper, wilder. A well of emotion so long buried it had festered into power. I didn’t mean to call it—but it had come anyway.

Because I was angry.

Broken.

Sick of being torn in two.

Their faces blurred at the edges of my vision, distorted by the shimmering heat rising off my skin. My fingertips crackled faintly with light—white-gold arcs flickered across my palms like they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to burn the world to the ground, or were grateful to finally be free.

Even though they were pulsing with commanding energy, they were barely visible, I doubted anyone else would notice.

And then—it stopped.

The flames returned to normal. The tremble in the earth stilled. All eyes at the table were on me. Not because they thought the power came from me but because they didn’t know where else to look.

It was easier to focus on our conflict than admit what they had seen and felt. Even Thrainn had turned from across the table, his eyes narrowed. His face unreadable.

My chest heaved. Yet, no one spoke.

Until Sebastian whispered—barely audible. “Shit, Em.”

And Maalikai, quieter still, so his voice only reached me. “Beautifully unapologetic."

But neither of them moved further, just stared at me with awe, or something more dangerous.

Lust.

And Gods, I didn’t know whether I wanted to run—or burn the whole place down.

At the head of the table, Thrainn rose to his feet. Everyone grew deadly quiet, all eyes fixed on him. Thrainn cleared his throat, not that he needed to, his voice could never be anything but a loud rumble like thunder, commanding everyone’s attention.

Thrainn cleared his voice. "Seems like the Goddess approves of the feast."

A nervous laugh spread through the crowd, as though they didn't know what else to do. I didn't blame them. If I hadn't felt the power inside me, I may also think it was a sign of the Gods.

“It is my honor to welcome you all to the festival of the Goddess Elessandria. Tonight, we honor her with a feast, and a mighty feast at that.”

A roar of approval shook the table.

“Tonight, we eat, drink, and dance to thank the Goddess for all the gifts she bestows upon us.”

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