Malvoria moved carefully, supporting Elysia's weight with practiced grace, as if her hands alone could shield her wife from every ache.
Her fingers slid beneath Elysia's knees and back, and with a slow inhale, she lifted her. There was no dramatic show of strength—just an instinctive reverence in every motion.
The bathroom welcomed them with the faint aroma of lavender and steam already whispering from the heated water.
Malvoria had ordered the bath prepared in advance, scented with herbs Faelira had recommended for healing.
Soft candlelight glowed from crystal sconces, their light flickering against the obsidian tiles.
Malvoria stepped onto the warm stones, her boots clicking quietly, and gently lowered Elysia onto the cushioned bench beside the bath.
"I'll take care of everything," she said, her voice low. "You just sit."
Elysia looked up, her eyes tired but glowing, and nodded.
