The meeting had gone as expected—smooth, decisive, and, more importantly, an undeniable victory on her part. The officers had been tense, wary even, but they knew better than to question her orders.
Good.
Fear was a powerful thing.
She had no patience for hesitation. No patience for weakness.
And yet…
As she strode through the quiet corridors, her mind wandered back—against her better judgment—to something that had nothing to do with war, rebellion, or conquest.
Silver hair tangled in dark sheets.
A peaceful face, softened in sleep.
A warmth that had lingered against her side longer than it should have.
Malvoria scowled.
This was ridiculous.
She was not the kind of woman who allowed herself to be distracted. Least of all by a stubborn, sharp-tongued princess who had done nothing but challenge her from the moment she stepped foot in this castle.
But gods, it had been infuriating this morning.
