Malvoria narrowed her silver eyes at her mother, her irritation barely concealed as she studied the woman who had spent the last several minutes thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.
Veylira, ever the troublemaker, simply leaned against the desk with an easy smirk, arms crossed, watching her daughter like a cat that had just cornered a particularly interesting prey.
"I know a thing or two," Veylira finally said, voice dripping with amusent, "and, believe it or not, I am a romantic."
Malvoria scoffed imdiately, folding her arms. "Don't even say you're a romantic. Since Lucindra left, you never found soone else."
The smirk on Veylira's face faded, her expression shifting ever so slightly into sothing Malvoria couldn't quite place. Not anger. Not even disappointnt. Just... sothing quieter. Sothing that made Malvoria feel as if she had struck sothing delicate and unspoken.
"You don't know everything, Malvoria," her mother said after a beat, her tone lacking its usual teasing edge.
Malvoria's jaw tightened. "I know enough."
She had been young, but not too young to rember the way Veylira had once looked at Lucindra—the way her mother had loved her, with the kind of devotion that had always seed indestructible.
She rembered how Veylira had given everything, how she had been willing to carve the world open for Lucindra if it ant keeping her close.
And she rembered, too, how it had all shattered.
Lucindra had taken what she wanted—money, power, influence—and when she had had her fill, she had left without a single glance back.
Malvoria had watched it happen.
She had watched her mother fall apart, piece by piece, until there had been nothing left but a woman who had locked herself away behind strength and sharp smiles.
And now, after all these years, Veylira had the audacity to talk about love?
Malvoria shook her head. "Lucindra was a bitch," she said, voice sharp.
Veylira's golden eyes snapped toward her, and though she didn't snap, her expression hardened just enough to be a warning.
"Lucindra," she corrected, "is your other mother."
Malvoria let out a harsh breath, looking away. "That doesn't change what she did."
"No," Veylira admitted, softer this ti. "It doesn't."
Silence stretched between them.
For a mont, Malvoria almost regretted bringing it up. Almost.
Because no matter how much ti had passed, no matter how much her mother claid to have moved on, Malvoria knew—she knew—that Veylira had never truly let it go.
She still spoke of Lucindra with sothing fragile beneath the surface, sothing that made Malvoria's stomach twist.
"You see how fool in love you were?" Malvoria muttered after a mont, her voice quieter. "It hurt. So much. To see you like that."
Veylira's gaze softened, and Malvoria hated it.
Hated how easily her mother saw through her.
Hated how she didn't even try to argue.
"It's life," Veylira finally said, with a small, knowing smile. "You love. You get hurt. You learn. And, if you're lucky, you love again."
Malvoria exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I don't want to be lucky."
Her mother laughed softly. "That's too bad."
Malvoria rolled her eyes, but the tension between them had already begun to settle, shifting into sothing less heavy, sothing less sharp.
Veylira tilted her head slightly, studying her. "But Elysia... she seems different, doesn't she?"
Malvoria said nothing.
"Strong," Veylira continued. "Blunt. She doesn't hesitate to challenge you, but she doesn't try to hurt you, either. And despite everything, you trust her, don't you?"
Malvoria's fingers twitched.
Trust.
It wasn't a word she liked to use.
It wasn't a word that had ever co easily to her.
But with Elysia...
With Elysia, it had never felt like a choice.
"I know that look," Veylira said, voice warm with amusent. "You do trust her."
Malvoria scowled. "You're imagining things."
Her mother humd, unimpressed.
"Then why did you say those things to her?" she asked, raising a brow. "That little speech of yours—my heart does weird things—what was that if not a confession?"
Malvoria clenched her jaw, but the tips of her ears burned. "It wasn't a confession."
Veylira laughed.
"Oh, Malvoria," she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "You're absolutely gone."
"I am not—"
"You are," Veylira cut in. "You might not know it yet, but you are."
Malvoria exhaled sharply, glaring. "You don't know everything."
Her mother simply shrugged. "No. But I do know you."
Malvoria scowled.
Veylira smiled.
"And I know this is good for you," she said after a mont, her voice quieter, more certain. "This... new start. You need it. And I think Elysia needs it too."
Malvoria's throat tightened.
She hated how much sense her mother made sotis.
Veylira tilted her head slightly, watching her.
"Don't lock yourself away, Malvoria," she murmured. "Not when you've already started to open up."
Malvoria looked away, exhaling slowly.
"You always act like you know everything," she muttered.
Her mother grinned. "That's because I do."
Malvoria rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, Veylira straightened, her expression shifting just slightly—turning more serious, more knowing.
"Don't deny anything," she said softly. "Just love, Malvoria."
Malvoria swallowed.
Her mother gave her one last knowing look before stepping back toward the door.
And for once, Malvoria didn't stop her.
Malvoria leaned back in her chair the mont her mother left, exhaling slowly, rubbing her temple as if she could physically push away the thoughts that had taken root in her mind.
Don't deny anything. Just love.
Veylira's words echoed, settling in a place Malvoria wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge.
Love.
That word had never ant anything good in her life. It had always been synonymous with pain, with loss, with betrayal. It had turned her mother into a shadow of herself for years. It had carved wounds into Malvoria's soul long before she had ever held a sword.
And yet—
She thought of Elysia.
The way her silver hair glead under the lantern light. The way her violet eyes flickered with emotions she didn't always understand.
The way her lips parted just slightly before she spoke, the way she held her head high even when she was uncertain.
The way Malvoria had wanted to kiss her when she looked at her like that.
A slow breath.
Malvoria ran a hand down her face.
I should try, she thought, almost reluctantly. I just hope I won't get hurt in the end.
Because if she did—
She wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.
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