We are under attack

The days after the tea party had been uneventful on the surface, but beneath the calm, something was wrong.

Elysia could see it in the way her father carried himself, the weight in his shoulders, the faint shadows beneath his sharp blue eyes. He was a man accustomed to control, to careful calculations, yet now he was wound too tight, like a bowstring ready to snap.

And then there were the guards.

Too many of them.

The castle had always been well-guarded, but never like this. Soldiers patrolled the corridors in pairs, stationed at every entrance and exit, their armor gleaming under the flickering torchlight. Even the gardens—once a place of quiet retreat—had been flooded with armed men, their watchful gazes scanning every shadow.

Elysia could feel it. The tension in the air, thick and cloying. Something was coming.

Something her father wasn't telling her.

But for now, she let herself forget it.

She let herself sink into the warmth of Zera's embrace, their limbs tangled in the nest of blankets draped over her bed. Zera's body was warm against hers, the steady rise and fall of her breath soothing. The scent of her, of earth and steel and embers, filled Elysia's senses.

Zera pressed a lazy kiss to her temple. "You're thinking too hard again."

Elysia huffed a quiet laugh, fingers trailing idly over the bare skin of Zera's arm. "And you're distracting me on purpose."

"Obviously," Zera murmured, pulling her closer. "Do you want to be thinking about whatever's making you frown like that?"

Elysia let out a long breath, pressing her forehead against Zera's collarbone. "It's my father. He's—off. Stressed. More than usual."

"Maybe he's just being overprotective," Zera suggested, running her fingers through Elysia's silver hair. "You're the heir to the kingdom, after all. It makes sense that he'd be worried about—"

She hesitated.

Elysia shifted. "Worried about what?"

Zera sighed. "The demon queen. Malvoria."

Elysia stilled at the name, the now-familiar unease creeping back in.

"You think this has to do with her?"

Zera shrugged, fingers tracing idle patterns against Elysia's back. "It's possible. You heard those nobles at the tea party. They said she was furious about something. If your father knows why, maybe that's why he's suddenly turning the castle into a fortress."

It made sense. Too much sense.

Elysia chewed on her lower lip, mind racing.

"Then I need to ask him," she murmured.

Zera groaned. "Do you have to?"

Elysia pulled away slightly, resting her chin on Zera's shoulder. "I don't like secrets. And whatever this is, it's big enough to make him afraid. I need to know."

Zera sighed but didn't argue. Instead, she pressed another kiss to Elysia's forehead before rolling onto her back, stretching her arms over her head. "Fine. But I'll be very put out if this means I don't get to keep cuddling you."

Elysia smirked, sitting up and tossing the blankets off. "I'll make it up to you later."

"You better."

Elysia pulled on a deep blue tunic and fastened her sword belt around her waist.

Zera remained sprawled out on the bed, watching her with a lopsided grin. "You're going to barge into your father's study, aren't you?"

"Obviously," Elysia echoed, smirking.

She left her chambers with a determined stride, her mind already forming the questions she would demand answers to.

She made her way through the castle, past guards who stiffened at the sight of her but said nothing. Their presence, the sheer number of them—it unsettled her.

The throne room doors were shut, but the guards stationed there didn't stop her as she pushed them open and strode inside.

Her father was alone.

King Thalor stood near the great windows overlooking the city, his back turned to her, his hands clasped behind him. The golden light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the marble floor.

He didn't turn around.

"You're not supposed to be here, Elysia."

She stopped a few steps away, crossing her arms. "And yet, here I am."

A sigh. Slow, heavy.

Finally, he turned. His face was lined with exhaustion, but his gaze was sharp as ever.

"Father," Elysia said, voice firm, "I want the truth."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Elysia—"

The ground shook.

A sound like thunder—no, like the sky itself shattering—roared through the castle. The windows rattled violently, and a distant scream rang out.

Elysia's heart slammed against her ribs.

Then, the explosion came.

The blast was deafening, the force of it shaking the walls, sending a tremor through the very foundations of the castle. The golden light from the windows was replaced by a sudden, violent flash of red and orange.

Fire.

The doors burst open, and a guard came sprinting inside, breathless, his face pale with terror.

"We are under attack!"