Malvoria woke with a jolt.
But nothing was wrong.
The room was dark, but not threatening. The air was still, save for the slow rustle of the curtains where a breeze had slipped through. No alarms. No clashing steel. Just quiet.
Stillness.
Her heart was beating too quickly. She waited, breath held, for the feeling of danger to surge, to crack open the day like a war horn.
But it didn’t co.
Not yet.
It was early. She could tell from the thin gray light creeping through the shutters, the way the world still held that hushed silence that ca only before dawn. She blinked a few tis, trying to ground herself.
Then she turned her head and saw her.
Elysia.
Sprawled on her side, one arm still loosely draped over where Malvoria had been sleeping, her silver hair a wild halo against the pillow.
Her expression was peaceful, lips slightly parted, lashes casting soft shadows over her cheeks. The blanket had slipped down, baring one pale shoulder.
Malvoria didn’t move for a long mont. She simply stared.
If there was a picture she wanted to hold in her mind forever, it was this.
Elysia, unguarded.
Untouched by battle or strategy or fear.
Just hers.
Her eyes drifted next to the cradle near the bed.
Kaelith slept curled on her side, fists tucked under her chin, her tiny brow furrowed like she was dreaming sothing far too serious for soone so small.
A soft glow still radiated from her skin, faint and harmless for now. Malvoria could almost feel the hum of her magic, pulsing gently like a lullaby.
Peace.
That’s what this was.
Not the grand, political sort that ca with signed treaties and diplomatic smiles. But a quiet, intimate kind.
The kind that lived in morning stillness and shared warmth. The kind so delicate it could shatter at the first wrong move.
And today, they had to step directly into the fire.
Malvoria sat up slowly, careful not to wake Elysia. Her body was stiff from tension she hadn’t noticed building overnight. Every muscle in her back ached, every breath felt a little too full.
She stood and padded barefoot across the room to the window, pushing the shutters open.
The sky was beginning to bloom with color.
A streak of deep orange on the horizon. A sar of indigo giving way to pale rose. It was the kind of dawn that might have inspired poems, if Malvoria had been the poetic sort.
Instead, she leaned her forearms on the stone ledge and watched the world begin to turn.
They would march soon.
The plan had been set in motion. Veylira’s role. Lara’s. Raveth’s. Hers. Elysia’s. Every piece, every risk weighed and recalculated again and again.
But battle plans were like fire—they shifted with the wind. She knew that. Had lived by it. And yet, this ti, the stakes were... heavier.
It wasn’t just her kingdom. It wasn’t just a throne.
It was them.
Elysia. Kaelith. Their ho.
Her family.
A soft shuffle behind her made her glance back.
Elysia was stirring, a hand reaching toward the now-empty space on the bed, brow twitching in sleepy confusion. Malvoria smiled and moved quietly back to her.
She knelt beside the bed and brushed a kiss to Elysia’s temple.
Elysia murmured sothing unintelligible, then blinked slowly awake. "Mmm... you’re up early."
"Couldn’t sleep," Malvoria whispered.
"Bad dreams?"
"No. Just... today."
Elysia opened her eyes fully, and for a mont they simply stared at each other. There was no fear there—only understanding. The kind that didn’t need to be said aloud.
Malvoria leaned in, pressed another kiss to her lips, brief but grounding.
"Kaelith’s still asleep," she murmured. "She looks peaceful."
"She doesn’t know yet," Elysia whispered. "But she can feel sothing."
Malvoria stood again and offered her hand. "Co on. Let’s get ready."
Elysia stretched with a soft groan as she sat up, brushing hair from her eyes while Malvoria crossed to the wardrobe.
The garnts had been set out the night before: her tailored battle coat, the armor lined with obsidian-stitched scales, and the silver-on-crimson sash that marked her as queen.
She dressed quickly, each motion practiced half armor, half mory. Elysia moved more slowly, fastening her dark-fitted tunic, tying back her silver hair into a tight braid.
Their movents mirrored each other synchronized in a way that only years of danger and devotion could foster.
Then ca the shuffle.
The faintest rustle of a blanket.
A familiar squeak.
Malvoria turned, just in ti to see Kaelith stir in her cradle. The baby yawned like a lion cub, stretched, and then gave a tiny, indignant grunt that ant only one thing:
She was awake.
And expected attention.
"Good morning, my terror," Malvoria said softly, crossing over to lift her daughter into her arms.
Kaelith blinked up at her, confused for a mont—then snuggled into Malvoria’s neck, her little fingers tangling in the queen’s braid. Elysia joined them, pressing a kiss to Kaelith’s chubby cheek.
They got her dressed together. Elysia held her steady while Malvoria slipped her into a black-and-burgundy tunic embroidered with tiny phoenixes.
She kicked happily at the air, sensing the weight in the room but too young to na it.
Her hair had begun curling at the ends—a soft, silvery fluff streaked faintly with hints of fire-red. She looked up at both of them and gave a sudden, delighted shriek.
"She’s excited," Elysia murmured.
"She’s ready for battle," Malvoria replied dryly. "I pity the next spoon she sees."
Once Kaelith was bundled into her sling across Elysia’s chest, the three of them made their way down the stone halls to the dining hall, boots tapping against polished floors that had felt like borrowed space these past days.
The others were already seated when they entered.
Raveth was leaning over her plate, thodically chewing through a slice of blood-orange while side-eyeing a map spread beside her.
Lara sat with her chin in her palm, spinning a dagger slowly between her fingers. Saelira sipped her tea without a word, but her eyes tracked them the mont they walked in.
And Veylira looked at Kaelith first.
Then at them.
Then nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
The tension was a thick thing, not explosive, but tight. Controlled. Sharpened into readiness.
No one was making jokes now.
Malvoria took her seat beside Elysia, and Kaelith gave a victorious coo as she was freed from the sling and placed in her chair.
A small bowl of porridge was set before her, and for once, she didn’t try to destroy it.
She ate.
Deliberately. Thoughtfully.
Even she knew.
Malvoria looked around the table, at the faces of the people who would go into fire for her. For them and Kaelith.
She rose from her seat, hands resting on the table’s edge. The firelight glead against her armor.
Veylira t her gaze.
And spoke.
"We are ready."
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