A few days had passed, and Malvoria was seated in her office—but for once, she wasn't drowning in work.
No, the reports scattered across her desk had been pushed aside, left abandoned in favor of something far more pressing.
She was finishing her plan for her date with Elysia.
Though calling it a date still felt strange.
Malvoria exhaled, tapping her fingers against the polished wood of her desk, her piercing grey eyes scanning over the map she had spread out before her.
They weren't going anywhere grand or fancy—Elysia wasn't the type to enjoy a stiflingly formal evening full of empty courtesies and noble expectations.
No, if Malvoria had learned anything about her wife (and that word still did something strange to her chest), it was that she was a rebel at heart.
The kind of princess who would rather run barefoot through the woods than wear a tiara. The kind who would rather chase an adventure than sit through a dull royal banquet.
