The mont Elysia and Malvoria stepped into the marketplace, a wave of attention washed over them.
Eyes turned. Conversations faltered. So demons blatantly stared, while others tried—and failed to be discreet. The buzz of whispered voices spread like wildfire, rippling through the crowded streets like a quiet storm.
It was clear.
The Demon Queen did not usually walk among her people. And she certainly didn't do it with her human wife by her side.
Elysia had expected so level of curiosity, but this... this was sothing else entirely new to her.
She felt the weight of their stares settle over her skin like a heavy cloak, an invisible force pressing down on her with every step.
So gazes were filled with awe, others with amusent, but a few particularly from the older demons were edged with sothing sharper.
Sothing close to disapproval.
And yet, what struck her the most was the contrast.
Because while Malvoria commanded respect—no, fear—with every movent, the people's reaction to Elysia was entirely different.
She had been here before.
She rembered the laughter, the easy conversation with the demon soldiers, the way rchants had eagerly waved her over to try their food. Back then, she had been welcod, treated like so kind of entertaining novelty.
Now?
Now, with Malvoria at her side, the atmosphere had shifted.
The sa people who had spoken to her so freely before were now... hesitant, casting cautious glances at the imposing figure walking beside her.
They weren't afraid of Elysia.
They were afraid of Malvoria.
And maybe... maybe that shouldn't have surprised her.
But it did.
Elysia stole a sideways glance at Malvoria, who was walking with her usual unshaken confidence, completely unfazed by the attention. If anything, she looked bored, as if she had expected this reaction from the start.
Of course, she had.
The Demon Queen had spent years ruling with an iron grip, shaping an empire that respected power above all else.
But sothing about it nagged at Elysia.
Sothing about the distance between Malvoria and her people, the way they seed to regard her more like a force of nature than a ruler to be approached, made her wonder...
Does Malvoria ever actually talk to them?
But before Elysia could linger on the thought for too long, she was suddenly yanked to the side.
Hard.
Her breath hitched as she felt Malvoria's hand wrap around her wrist, pulling her out of the way just before a group of rchants ca barreling past, carrying what looked like sacks of flour far too heavy for their wiry fras.
Elysia barely had ti to register what had happened before she found herself stumbling into Malvoria's chest.
A very solid, very warm, very annoying chest.
She pushed back imdiately. "I— I could have moved on my own."
Malvoria smirked, not letting go of her wrist just yet. "Clearly."
Elysia scowled, yanking her arm away.
This was ridiculous.Elysia could walk alone.
She had spent her entire life being a warrior, a princess who had fought on the battlefield, who had held her own in duels, who had trained since childhood to protect herself—
And yet, here she was, being pulled around like so delicate thing that couldn't even walk through a marketplace without supervision.
It was infuriating.
And what was worse?
This wasn't the first ti.
Every few steps, Malvoria would subtly—or not so subtly—guide her away from a passing cart, shift her aside when a particularly curious demon got too close, or place a steadying hand on the small of her back when the street got too crowded.
Each ti, Elysia's skin burned.
Not from anger.
No.
From sothing else entirely.
And she hated it.
She hated the way her stomach flipped every ti their hands brushed. She hated the way Malvoria's presence lingered—a constant, commanding force beside her.
She hated the way her body betrayed her, reacting before her mind could remind her that she was supposed to be immune to this.
And most of all—
She hated that Malvoria knew it.
She could see it in the way Malvoria smirked every single ti it happened, the way her gray eyes darkened, sharp with amusent, with knowing.
Elysia clenched her fists, forcing herself to focus on literally anything else.
And then—
She saw them.
A group of demon soldiers, leaning casually against a vendor stall, talking animatedly amongst themselves.
Familiar ones.
Ones she had drunk with, trained with, laughed with the last ti she had been here.
Without thinking, Elysia's face broke into a grin.
"Hey!" she called, her voice instinctively lighter, more natural.
The soldiers turned—surprised, then delighted.
"My Queen?" one of them laughed, his amber eyes widening. "Back already?"
Elysia chuckled. "What, did you think I wouldn't visit?"
Another soldier—Luck, if she rembered correctly—grinned. "I just assud you had... royal duties." His eyes flickered toward Malvoria pointedly. "You know. Important things."
Elysia rolled her eyes, stepping closer, slipping back into that comfortable camaraderie she had built with them before.
But the mont she moved—
She felt it.
The sudden stiffness beside her.
The shift in energy.
Malvoria had gone still.
Elysia didn't even have to look at her to know it.
She could feel it.
The weight of her presence sharpened, her aura subtly darkening, like a storm cloud brewing on the horizon.
And when Elysia finally did glance at her—
Malvoria's expression was unreadable.
But her eyes...
Her eyes were not.
Elysia had seen Malvoria in battle.
Had seen her when she was furious, when she was ruthless, when she was burning through her enemies like a wildfire consuming everything in its path.
But this?
This was different.
Malvoria wasn't angry.
Not in the way Elysia was used to.
No, this was sothing colder, sothing calculating, sothing that made Elysia's stomach twist in a way she wasn't sure she liked.
Possessive.
That was the only word she could think of.
And for the first ti since stepping into the village—
Elysia realized she had just made a mistake.
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