The walk back to their shared chambers was slow and easy, the kind of pace that needed no urgency, no excuse.
Malvoria walked beside Elysia with one hand resting at the small of her back, fingers trailing over the folds of her shawl.
They didn’t speak there was no need. The soft rhythm of their footsteps along polished stone, the occasional flicker of torchlight catching silver hair and red eyes, was conversation enough.
When they reached the doors to their suite, Malvoria let Elysia step in first.
The room had changed.
Not in grand ways no banners or dramatic carvings but in quiet, precise adjustnts that had made all the difference.
The absurdly oversized ceremonial blades that once hung above the fireplace (replicas of "trophies," according to Malvoria’s mother) were gone.
In their place was a silver-frad mirror, enchanted to reflect light even when the fire dimd.
Elysia’s influence was visible in the arrangent of the cushions on the chaise, the thin floral embroidery now curling along the hem of the curtains, and the small bowl of sugared plums on the table.
Malvoria’s influence had been subtler. She’d personally removed the collection of faux-battle relics, sharpened the edge on the real ones, and added two hidden daggers to the headboard just in case.
They balanced each other out.
She stepped behind Elysia as the door shut behind them, resting her hands lightly on her shoulders. "Better?"
Elysia leaned back into her. "Much."
The room’s warmth wrapped around them. Their clothes still carried the scent of roasted herbs and spiced fruit from dinner. Malvoria leaned in slowly and kissed the crown of her wife’s head.
"Bath?"
Elysia humd a yes.
The bath chamber was connected to their suite by a short arched hallway lined with enchanted lanterns, each flickering with soft, warm light.
The air changed the mont they stepped inside humid, perfud with lavender oil and sothing faintly citrusy.
The large soaking tub, carved from obsidian veined with dark green, filled itself with steaming water that shimred faintly from the enchantnts layered into its base.
Malvoria rolled up her sleeves and poured in a vial of soaking salts a blend she’d had custom-made for Elysia after their first night sharing a bath had ended in tangled limbs and the discovery that Elysia hated anything floral that didn’t sll "real."
Steam coiled in the air like silk.
They undressed slowly not seductively, but familiarly. A practiced rhythm of untying, folding, slipping out of silks and leather.
Elysia moved with ease, arms rising to unpin her braid, letting silver strands fall over her bare shoulders.
Malvoria watched her for a mont, captivated, then reached for her own clasped belt and let her robe slide from her arms.
The heat of the bath wrapped around them as they stepped in. The water rose gently with their weight, glimring with faint magic.
Elysia slid in first and leaned back, arms stretched along the curved edge. Malvoria followed, settling behind her, pulling Elysia gently against her chest.
They fit together like they’d been carved that way.
The silence stretched, soft and perfect. The only sounds were the quiet ripple of water and Elysia’s slow exhale.
Malvoria’s arms curled around her waist beneath the surface.
"Still thinking about him?" she murmured against her skin.
Elysia nodded.
Malvoria pressed a slow kiss to her neck, lips brushing just beneath her ear. "You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt."
"I’m not pretending," Elysia said softly. "I’m just... trying to let it hurt less."
Malvoria’s thumb stroked slow circles along her hip. "I can speak to him. If you want."
"No," Elysia said quickly, then softer, "No. It won’t help. He’s not... he’s not angry. Not really. He’s sulking. Like a child."
She turned her face slightly, cheek brushing against Malvoria’s jaw. "It’s the sa thing he did when I refused to be go with him for an important eting with so nobles. Weeks of cold silence until my mother threatened to move him to the guest house."
Malvoria snorted softly. "Tempting."
"Don’t," Elysia whispered, a smile curling at the edges of her mouth despite the tension in her voice.
"I want him to co around. I want him to want to know again. But I won’t chase him."
"No. You shouldn’t."
They stayed in the water for a while, until the steam softened the ache in their muscles and the shadows of the room grew longer.
Malvoria kissed Elysia’s neck again, then the slope of her shoulder, then just under her jaw—each one slow and lingering.
Eventually, when the heat had turned heavy and the water began to cool, they dried off, wrapped themselves in soft robes, and padded barefoot back into the suite.
The bed waited, its covers freshly changed, a fire flickering gently in the hearth.
They curled beneath the blankets—Elysia on her side, facing Malvoria, her head resting against her shoulder.
They spoke softly for a while.
About the garden. About how the cook had added too much clove to the bread.
About the ridiculous letter Veylira had once sent to a diplomat that included five separate threats and a recipe for honey-glazed carrots.
Elysia laughed until she hiccupped.
Malvoria held her tighter.
But the subject of her father lingered like smoke in the corners of the room.
"Do you think he’ll ever forgive ?" Elysia asked quietly.
Malvoria exhaled slowly. "It’s not about forgiveness. It’s about control. He lost it. You took it. So part of him thinks that ans he failed."
"He didn’t fail," Elysia whispered. "I just... changed."
"Then let him figure that out."
Elysia nodded, but her eyes didn’t fully clear.
They fell into silence again, the kind that ca only when the body was tired and the mind too full of words.
The fire cracked softly.
And then—three sharp knocks at the door.
Both won stilled.
From the other side ca a familiar voice.
"Your Majesty," a guard called, just loud enough to carry through the door, "we have an ergency."
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