Elysia walked beside Malvoria through the vast corridors of the castle, the rhythmic sound of their boots against the polished stone floor filling the space between them. The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, something neither of them was willing to address.
It was unbearable.
The tension between them coiled tight like a drawn bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.
Elysia kept her eyes forward, determined to act as if nothing had happened earlier, as if she hadn't just left Malvoria's room in a daze, as if she hadn't worn Malvoria's shirt like a ridiculous oversized dress and caught the Demon Queen practically undressing her with her eyes.
Gods.
She hated that she had seen it.
The way Malvoria's gaze had lingered—dark, hungry, almost predatory.
It made her skin feel too warm, her breath too shallow.
And the worst part?
Malvoria wasn't even trying to hide it.
Elysia refused to acknowledge it.
