Malvoria narrowed her silver eyes at her mother, her irritation barely concealed as she studied the woman who had spent the last several minutes thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.
Veylira, ever the troublemaker, simply leaned against the desk with an easy smirk, arms crossed, watching her daughter like a cat that had just cornered a particularly interesting prey.
"I know a thing or two," Veylira finally said, voice dripping with amusement, "and, believe it or not, I am a romantic."
Malvoria scoffed immediately, folding her arms. "Don't even say you're a romantic. Since Lucindra left, you never found someone else."
The smirk on Veylira's face faded, her expression shifting ever so slightly into something Malvoria couldn't quite place. Not anger. Not even disappointment. Just… something quieter. Something that made Malvoria feel as if she had struck something delicate and unspoken.
