Leave my daughter

King Thalor had not been a challenge.

Malvoria had expected some form of resistance, a last stand worthy of a ruler who had once been feared on the battlefield. But the fight had ended swiftly, almost disappointingly so.

His blade had been steady, his stance unyielding, but he had fought like a man who already knew the outcome. Like a man with nothing left to lose.

And he had lost.

Now, he sat in the cold stone chamber of her castle, bound to a heavy iron chair, his once-pristine tunic torn, blood drying in dark patches along the fabric.

His graying hair clung to his damp forehead, and his sharp blue eyes—remained locked onto her with a defiance that bordered on foolishness.

Malvoria had been patient.

She had been merciful.

She had questioned him, offered him the chance to make things easier, to tell her where Elysia had gone.

But all he had said was:

"Leave my daughter."

Over and over again.

"Leave my daughter."

Malvoria had forced herself not to break him right then and there. The temptation had been great—to drive her claws into his flesh, to snap bones and tear muscle until he screamed her name in agony.

But the king was still valuable.

As long as he was alive, he was bait.

If she had to play this ridiculous game of hide and seek with the princess, so be it. But there was no point in wasting time if she didn't have to.

Malvoria exhaled sharply, pushing herself up from the stone table where she had been leaning. The dim torchlight flickered against the damp walls of the interrogation chamber, shadows dancing like restless specters.

She turned to one of the demon guards stationed at the entrance.

"Send in the scouts."

The demon bowed low before vanishing into the corridor.

Malvoria rolled her shoulders, stretching the tension from her muscles. She had spent hours in this room, her patience thinning with every passing second.

Thalor, despite his bruises, despite the exhaustion settling into his bones, still had the audacity to smirk.

"You're wasting your time," he rasped, his voice raw from disuse.

Malvoria tilted her head, regarding him with mild amusement. "Am I?"

"You'll never find her."

She let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Oh, I will. The real question is how much of your kingdom will still be left when I do."

Thalor's smirk faltered.

Malvoria leaned in slightly, her golden eyes gleaming. "I will find her, King Thalor. And when I do, you will regret not making this easier for her."

The door creaked open before he could answer.

Her scouts had arrived.

Three demons stepped inside, their armor still dusted with the remnants of battle, their cloaks stiff with dried blood. One of them knelt before Malvoria, pressing a fist to his chest in salute.

"My queen," he said, voice low and reverent. "We have scoured the outskirts of the kingdom. There were signs of movement—carts abandoned, tracks leading into the forests—but the princess remains unfound."

Malvoria's expression did not change, but a cold, simmering irritation settled in her chest.

"And the city?" she asked, her tone measured.

Another scout stepped forward. "What remained of the resistance has been crushed. Most of the civilians have fled or been captured. The fires are still burning, but Eldoria is ours."

A victory.

But an incomplete one.

Malvoria ran a finger along the hilt of her sword, contemplating her next move.

"The princess is on the run," she murmured, almost to herself. "She will not be alone."

Her eyes flickered back to Thalor, who had remained silent during the report, his jaw clenched.

"She has protectors, doesn't she?" Malvoria asked, stepping closer.

Thalor's face remained unreadable, but that silence told her everything.

She smirked.

"Seraphina," she mused aloud, watching for any reaction. "And that other one… what was her name?"

She snapped her fingers mockingly.

"Zera, was it?"

Thalor's fingers twitched, a barely perceptible motion.

Ah.

Interesting.

Malvoria smiled, slow and sharp. "Good. It will make the hunt more entertaining."

She turned back to her scouts.

"Send out more search parties. Sweep the forests. Send word to the outer villages. If she is hiding among the commoners, I want them to know exactly what happens to those who harbor her."

Her grey eyes glowed.

"Smoke her out."

The demons bowed, swiftly exiting to carry out her orders.

Malvoria turned back to Thalor, regarding him with a lazy sort of amusement.

"You do realize that this will only make things worse for her," she said, gesturing vaguely to the cell around them. "The longer she runs, the more people will suffer."

Thalor lifted his head, his gaze fierce despite the bruises, despite the blood smeared across his temple.

"Better to suffer than to surrender to you," he spat.

Malvoria chuckled, a deep, dark sound. "Such noble words. But we both know that everyone breaks eventually."

Thalor didn't answer.

He only stared at her with that same unwavering defiance.

Malvoria leaned in, her voice a whisper of silk and steel.

"I will find her."

Thalor's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

The game had begun.

And Malvoria did not intend to lose.