The night before the banquet fell with a hush, velvet-dark and heavy with promise.
The castle had quieted early, the halls emptying as courtiers and servants retreated to their quarters, preparing themselves for the grand day ahead.
Only the faintest traces of lingering sound remained—the distant rustle of robes, the fading echo of bootsteps on stone.
Outside their chamber windows, the stars blinked awake one by one, scattering across the sky like watchful eyes.
Inside, Elysia sat on the edge of their bed, knees drawn up beneath her nightgown, a book resting in her lap unread.
The candlelight flickered gently against the stone walls, casting shadows that swayed like slow dancers.
She wasn’t cold if anything, the room was warm from the fire but her arms were wrapped around herself all the sa, as if bracing against sothing invisible.
Her gaze stayed fixed on Malvoria.
The demon queen stood near the hearth, dressed in deep charcoal and black silks, untying the final clasps of her tunic.
The firelight carved itself across her bare shoulders, catching in the curve of her spine, dancing along her collarbone like it was made to worship her.
Her long braid had co undone over one shoulder, red strands curling near her waist in soft waves. Her movents were slow tonight—unhurried, thoughtful.
She looked devastatingly regal.
And impossibly distant.
Elysia’s hand drifted toward the small, wrapped bundle beside her on the bed—the dagger. Her fingers traced the edge of the velvet wrapping, feeling the weight of the gift within.
Tomorrow, she would give it to her.
Tomorrow, she would tell her.
Everything.
That she was carrying their child.
That her body had already begun to shift, to change, to make room for sothing new and impossibly fragile.
That she wasn’t scared because she didn’t want this—but because she wanted it so much, and feared the silence that might follow her words.
Would Malvoria see this as a blessing?
Or a burden?
She felt her breath catch in her throat.
And then Malvoria turned.
Those grey eyes found hers across the room—not sharp, not stern, but soft. Steady.
"Co here," she said, her voice gentler than it had been all week. Like silk on skin.
Elysia didn’t hesitate.
She rose, still barefoot, the floor cool beneath her toes, and walked toward her. Malvoria t her halfway, her hands finding Elysia’s waist with practiced ease, pulling her close until there was no space between them.
Their mouths t in a slow, lingering kiss.
Not urgent. Not desperate.
But full.
Warmth blood low in Elysia’s chest, curling into her bones, soothing the ache that had settled there over the past days.
Her hands slid up Malvoria’s back, fingers slipping into the undone strands of her hair. The kiss deepened—eased into sothing more, sothing sweeter and softer than she’d expected.
When they finally broke apart, Elysia rested her forehead against Malvoria’s.
"I missed you this week," she whispered.
Malvoria’s thumb stroked the curve of her waist. "I’m sorry."
"You were busy. I understand."
"But I should have made ti. For this. For you."
Elysia smiled faintly. "You’re making it now."
They moved toward the bed without speaking, sinking into the silk-draped mattress like they’d done a hundred tis before, but this ti, there was no rush.
No frantic need to chase away the day’s weight. Just... quiet. A shared breath. A closeness they both had been starved for.
Malvoria lay on her back, and Elysia curled into her side, her head resting over her heart. One of Malvoria’s arms wrapped securely around her, fingers trailing lazy, thoughtful patterns along her spine.
The firelight crackled in the hearth. Outside, the wind whispered against the glass panes like a lullaby.
Elysia shifted slightly to press a kiss to Malvoria’s collarbone, then another, higher, until she reached her jaw. She felt the deep hum in Malvoria’s chest as she exhaled.
"I can’t wait for tomorrow," Elysia murmured, her voice muffled slightly by the crook of Malvoria’s neck.
"Mmm. Because you enjoy formal banquets so much?"
"Because I have sothing to give you."
Malvoria’s hand paused for a second on her back, then resud its gentle tracing.
"Sothing dangerous?"
Elysia smiled against her skin. "Very."
"You’ve piqued my interest."
"You’ll just have to wait."
"I’m terrible at waiting."
"I know."
Malvoria shifted slightly, her other hand coming up to cradle Elysia’s cheek. She tilted her chin up and kissed her again—slow, unhurried, lips soft and sure. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that demanded anything.
It simply was.
When they parted, Malvoria rested her forehead against Elysia’s again, her grey eyes flickering closed.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Elysia blinked. "For what?"
"For loving . For staying. For seeing past the crown and the blades and the walls I keep rebuilding."
Elysia brushed a stray lock of hair behind Malvoria’s ear. "You don’t have to thank for that. I don’t see past those things—I see through them."
"To what?"
"To you."
Malvoria’s throat worked, but she didn’t speak again.
Instead, she pulled Elysia closer, tucking her against her chest like sothing precious, and for a long ti, they simply breathed together.
Elysia could feel the beat of Malvoria’s heart beneath her palm. Strong. Steady. Fierce.
She rested her own hand gently over her stomach.
Tomorrow, she would say the words aloud.
Tomorrow, she would tell her everything.
But tonight—tonight was theirs.
Their last night before the world shifted.
Before the child growing inside her had a na.
Before Malvoria would know she had already begun building a future neither of them had planned for—but one that might just be more beautiful than anything they’d imagined.
She closed her eyes and kissed the place over Malvoria’s heart.
And whispered into the quiet, "I love you."
For a mont, there was only the soft crackle of the fire, the hush of the wind outside their windows, and the sound of Malvoria’s breath catching in her throat.
Then Malvoria tilted her head down, grey eyes eting Elysia’s with that rare, disard tenderness that she offered only in these quiet, sacred spaces.
"I love you," she murmured, voice husky and warm, "even more."
Elysia blinked, a small smile tugging at her lips. "What?"
"I love you more." Malvoria’s expression didn’t change—but there was a faint, smug glint in her eyes.
"That’s not how this works," Elysia said, propping herself up slightly. "You can’t just out-love ."
Malvoria shifted beneath her, arms still firmly wrapped around Elysia’s waist. "I’m the queen. I can do anything."
"That’s cheating."
"It’s strategy," Malvoria said, smirking. "You say ’I love you,’ I say ’I love you more,’ you lt, I win."
Elysia scoffed. "You’re unbelievable."
"Unbelievably in love with you," Malvoria replied, smug now, clearly enjoying herself.
"That’s it," Elysia muttered. "I’m revoking your ’most charming tyrant’ award."
"I have an award?"
"Had."
Malvoria’s laugh was low, utterly pleased. She leaned up, catching Elysia’s mouth in a kiss that was all affection and victory.
When they pulled apart, Elysia rested her forehead against hers again, breathless but smiling.
"You’re impossible."
"And still," Malvoria whispered, brushing her nose against hers, "you love ."
Elysia sighed dramatically. "Tragic, isn’t it?"
"The greatest tragedy," Malvoria agreed, deadpan.
They dissolved into laughter, limbs tangled, hearts lighter than they’d been in days.
For tonight, nothing else existed but them.
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