Elysia has a problem.
A very, very big problem.
And no matter how many tis she tells herself that it’s not real that it’s just adrenaline, confusion, proximity it keeps hitting her harder each day, like an avalanche she didn’t see coming until it swallowed her whole.
She’s falling for Malvoria.
Hard.
The Demon Queen. Her so-called enemy. Her reluctant wife.
She had always believed that if she ever strayed from the careful, committed affection she shared with Zera.
She would recognize it imdiately sense the betrayal, recoil from it, build walls around her heart and remind herself of who she was, what she had to protect. She would shove the feelings into a box and seal it shut.
But here she is now, standing knee-deep in glistening mountain lake water, her hair dripping, her breath uneven, her clothes clinging to her like ivy, and Malvoria gods, Malvoria—is laughing.
And that laugh has shattered her resolve more than any kiss ever could.
It’s not sharp or mocking like usual. It’s not even the smirk-laced amusent Elysia had co to expect from her.
No—this laugh is real. Warm. Honest. Vulnerable in a way that does things to Elysia’s heart that she doesn’t have the words for.
It had unraveled her. Absolutely and completely.
She doesn’t even know how they got to this point.
One minute, she had splashed water at Malvoria—recklessly, impulsively, like a child trying to provoke a bear. And the next, the Demon Queen had retaliated, deadpan at first, then with unexpected mischief. A smirk. A splash. Another. A teasing threat.
Then, laughter. Real, unguarded laughter.
And now... well, now she was dood.
Because now Malvoria was in the water, hair slicked back, droplets tracing along her neck, her jaw, her collarbone.
Because now she had taken off her shirt—her black travel coat and the outer layer underneath, both discarded on a nearby rock—and what was left was sothing entirely unfair.
The kind of lean, sculpted form that didn’t belong to rulers buried in paperwork and throne rooms, but warriors who had fought and won their own place in the world.
Her tank-like top clung to her body, soaked and partially see-through, and the fabric did nothing to hide the curves of muscle beneath firm biceps, defined shoulders, a torso lined with scars that only made her more maddeningly attractive.
And Elysia was staring.
She knew she was. She could feel her gaze lingering, shalessly so, as if bewitched.
And then Malvoria caught her.
The queen turned her head slowly, the amusent already blooming in her smirk before she even spoke.
Her gray eyes glead with wicked delight as she leaned casually in the water, her arms half-subrged, her body relaxed in the way predators looked relaxed when they knew they had the upper hand.
"Enjoying the view, wife?" she asked, voice low, knowing.
Elysia blinked. Her face went hot. "I—wasn’t—" She stamred, tripping over her own tongue, her ears burning so hard they could’ve caught fire. "It’s not—"
Malvoria raised an eyebrow, cutting her off with a quiet hum that sohow sounded more dangerous than any growl. "Mmhm. Sure."
Elysia turned away, pretending to adjust her sleeves, anything to escape the weight of that gaze, the way her entire body felt like it was burning under it.
But Malvoria’s laughter echoed again, softer this ti, and damn it, Elysia wanted to laugh with her. Or push her into the lake. Or maybe kiss her.
Definitely not that last one.
...Probably.
By the ti they made their way back to the cabin, the sun had started its slow descent behind the jagged edges of the mountain peaks, casting long shadows over the trail.
The air grew cooler, the breeze brushing against Elysia’s still-damp clothes, sending goosebumps up her arms.
The path was quiet.
So were they.
But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable this ti. It wasn’t weighted with resentnt or challenge. It simply... was.
It was the kind of silence that lingered in the wake of sothing shared—sothing tender and unfamiliar.
Elysia kept glancing sideways, eyes flitting to Malvoria’s profile—the firm line of her jaw, the way her damp hair curled slightly behind one ear, the calm expression that said absolutely nothing and sohow everything at once.
But then—just as they were approaching the last curve that led to the cabin—Malvoria reached out.
It was so natural, so fluid, that Elysia barely registered it at first.
Malvoria’s fingers brushed against her forehead, then gently tugged a small leaf free from her hair, tossing it aside.
That was it. Just a flick of a hand.
But to Elysia, it felt like sothing far more intimate.
Her breath caught.
And just like that, the butterflies in her chest exploded again—chaotic, unwelco, impossible to cage.
She looked up, heart racing.
Malvoria didn’t speak.
She just looked at her for a second too long.
And then turned, walking ahead.
Inside the cabin, the familiar scent of firewood and herbs greeted them, and Elysia found herself lingering at the door for a heartbeat too long before stepping in.
She rubbed her arms absently, trying to shake the strange warmth pooling inside her, but it clung to her like steam.
Malvoria was already in the kitchen area, rummaging through supplies. Elysia sat at the small table, watching her move with the kind of fluid efficiency that felt almost unfair. She made cooking look like a battlefield—strategic, swift, lethal.
Elysia crossed her arms. "You know," she said dryly, "for soone who rules a kingdom, you’re oddly good at slicing vegetables."
Malvoria didn’t even look up. "I’m oddly good at a lot of things."
"Oh, confident today?"
That earned her a side glance. "Just stating facts."
Elysia bit back a grin. "Well, your ’fact’ nearly walked us off a cliff earlier while coming back. You call that good leadership?"
Malvoria exhaled through her nose—almost a laugh, but not quite. "I wasn’t the one charging ahead like a mountain goat without watching my footing."
"Hey," Elysia huffed, "I was scouting. Like any good adventurer."
Malvoria looked at her again, her expression unreadable but clearly amused. "You’re lucky I caught you."
Elysia opened her mouth to retort—but then closed it.
Because she was lucky.
Because she still felt the ghost of Malvoria’s arms around her.
And that was dangerous.
Dinner passed in a strange, pleasant haze. They didn’t talk much after that, but the silence was no longer sharp.
Elysia watched Malvoria work, the simple act of preparing their al oddly comforting. She admired the way she moved—confident and sure, even in the quiet. Even without magic.
And when they sat down to eat, Elysia dared a complint.
"This is good," she said, poking a fork at the dish. "Like... really good."
Malvoria arched an eyebrow. "Surprised?"
"Honestly? A little."
Malvoria leaned back slightly, lips tugging into a slow, arrogant smirk. "You forget, I’m not just good at ruling."
Elysia rolled her eyes. "Gods, your ego needs a leash."
But she smiled into her food.
And Malvoria watched her, quiet and thoughtful.
As the night settled around them and the stars began to creep into the sky, Elysia stood by the window, arms folded, staring out at the moonlit peaks. The world outside was breathtaking. Serene.
And yet, nothing compared to the storm inside her chest.
A storm she didn’t know how to silence.
Malvoria joined her a mont later, their shoulders brushing lightly, and for a while, neither of them said a word.
But the silence between them said everything.
Sothing was changing.
And Elysia didn’t know if she should run from it—or fall into it.
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