The hallway outside Elysia's chambers was quiet, bathed in the muted light of evening. The sconces on the stone walls flickered with steady flame, casting elongated shadows across the crimson carpet.
Malvoria stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the cool stone, one foot tapping slowly, a rare expression of uncertainty etched across her face.
She had been standing there for quite a while— twenty-two minutes, to be exact but who was counting?
She glanced at the heavy door once more, her tail twitching impatiently behind her. Inside, her wife and her daughter rested.
Her daughter. The word still tasted strange on her tongue. Not unpleasant—just... monumental.
And, of course, Thalor was still in there.
Malvoria clenched her jaw, not because she disliked the man though she certainly didn't adore him but because he was still in there.
Talking. Being tender. Perhaps crying. Who knew what human fathers did in such moments? It wasn't that she wanted to interrupt.
