Malvoria strolled through the palace halls with an unusual lightness in her step. The bowl of strawberries, perfectly chilled, delicately sliced—rested in her hands like a sacred offering. And perhaps it was.
Ever since Elysia's pregnancy cravings had taken hold, strawberries had become the currency of her affections.
Malvoria didn't mind. If bringing a gold-rimmed bowl of fruit made her wife smile like the sun had risen just for her, then she would carry strawberries across continents.
She approached their chamber door, pushing it open with a little smirk already tugging at her lips.
"Darling, I brought—"
Her sentence hit an invisible wall of chaos.
Inside, Elysia was lounging on their fainting couch, cheeks slightly flushed, her silver hair braided in a lazy twist. She was radiant, as always. But what caught Malvoria's attention wasn't just her wife's beauty.
It was Lara.
