Three weeks had passed since that night in the shared chamber.
Three weeks of waking up tangled in silk sheets and warmer limbs. Of low-voiced conversations over breakfast, late-night walks along the candlelit terraces, and, admittedly, an excessive amount of sex that left Elysia half convinced Malvoria had made some private game out of discovering every surface in the castle they hadn't yet defiled.
Not that she was complaining.
In fact, for the first time since the surrender, since the war, since her entire life had been rewritten with the ink of politics and blood, Elysia felt… good.
Not safe. She wasn't that naïve. But steady.
There was a rhythm now. A subtle understanding between them. A closeness that had once felt impossible.
And yet, like a dull echo at the back of her mind, there was still the lingering absence of one person.
Zera.
Three weeks, and she hadn't seen her. Not once.
