The castle loomed ahead like a sleeping beast cloaked in obsidian and pride.
Elysia sat upright now, though her body still hummed from the gentle warmth of Malvoria's lap and the lingering sweetness of strawberries.
But as the carriage wheels rolled onto the outer courtyard stone, the weight of reality began to settle around her shoulders like a cloak returned.
The guards bowed sharply as the carriage halted, and the driver stepped down, opening the door with all the reverence due to a queen and her consort.
Elysia paused, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Then it hit her.
Oh no.
She had completely forgotten about the decorations.
The roses.
The vases.
The ridiculous—no, charming—explosion of soft color she'd unleashed across the demon queen's terrifying, formerly colorless lair.
It had started as a small idea. Something to fill the silence when Malvoria had left for that two-week mission. The castle, as she'd found it upon arrival, had been dark.
