Elysia watched as Malvoria clutched the small gift box tightly in one hand, the wrapping creased where her fingers had instinctively curled tighter the moment she'd taken it.
She looked stunning in her sharp black suit lined with scarlet, the silver embroidery catching light like embers. Regal, lethal, composed her presence was a living weapon wrapped in velvet.
And Elysia?
Elysia was ready to scream.
This was supposed to be a private moment. A gentle gift. A quiet confession. She had planned everything down to the minute—the words, the gesture, the pacing.
They were supposed to slip away together, just the two of them, and Elysia would say it clearly, calmly.
"I'm pregnant."
Just like that.
Only now, her wife was surrounded by a cloud of fucking nobles who couldn't take a hint to save their gilded, perfume-drenched lives.
Elysia hovered a few feet away as another pair of foreign emissaries approached Malvoria, all jeweled smiles and exaggerated bows.
