One week had passed.
One week since Malvoria had let those foolish, utterly humiliating words slip from her mouth.
One week of pretending it never happened, of burying herself in her office, drowning in paperwork and reports, and doing absolutely everything in her power to avoid thinking about it.
And yet, her thoughts betrayed her at every turn.
My heart does weird things.
Malvoria groaned and dropped her forehead onto her desk with a soft thud, barely resisting the urge to let out a frustrated growl.
She had ruled for years with unwavering strength, had led armies, conquered nations, and held her ground in political and military battles that would make lesser beings crumble. But now?
Now she was reduced to hiding in her office like a sulking teenager because she couldn't face the consequences of her own reckless mouth.
Her declaration—if it could even be called that—had been entirely unplanned, slipping from her lips before she had the chance to stop herself.
