Stepping out of the chamber, Malvoria expected to be met with the scent of smoke, the groan of injured walls, and the trailing stench of scorched stone. But the hallway before her… was pristine.
The cracked sconces had been replaced. The tapestries, somehow, rehung. Even the deep gouges in the marble floor—ones she was sure she'd carved herself with her fire-forged sword—were gone. Polished. Smooth.
Elysia blinked beside her. "Are we hallucinating?"
Malvoria narrowed her eyes at a particularly smug-looking wall sconce. "Either someone rebuilt half the palace in an afternoon…"
"Or we've been out longer than we thought."
They exchanged a look.
"Magic?" Elysia guessed.
"Definitely magic."
The deeper they went, the stranger it became. Every hallway gleamed. Flowers lined the corridors.
The blood that had soaked into the stone after the battle was nowhere to be seen. It smelled of freshly baked bread and jasmine.
