The interior of the magic carriage was, thankfully, silent and warm.
It smelled faintly of sweet vanilla and leather-bound tomes, and the cushioned seats were charmed with subtle enchantments that shifted to support her spine just right, a rare kind of luxury even Malvoria seldom allowed herself.
The shadows outside moved slowly, trees and craggy hills flickering past like memories, and the soft hum of the magical propulsion beneath them filled the space with a low, rhythmic thrum—comforting in the way a storm might be when you're safe behind thick walls.
Malvoria sprawled across the bench with the nonchalance of a woman who had successfully kidnapped her lover from exhaustion, carried her bodily down a mountain, and felt entirely justified in enjoying the spoils.
