It’s awful

Elysia held onto her father tightly, unwilling to let go just yet. The warmth of his arms, the steady weight of his presence—she had been terrified she would never feel it again.

For days, she had imagined the worst. That Malvoria had broken him. That she would find him bloodied and beaten, barely clinging to life.

But now, seeing him unharmed, hearing the steady rise and fall of his breath against her shoulder, she allowed herself a moment of relief.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. His blue eyes, always so sharp and filled with wisdom, softened as they met hers. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, steadying her as if he were making sure she was real.

"How are you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thalor exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Good," he said, but his expression darkened. "Better if you weren't here with her."

Elysia swallowed, glancing briefly toward Malvoria, who had remained seated at the head of the table, watching their exchange with a detached, unreadable expression.

"I didn't have a choice," Elysia murmured.

Thalor sighed, his fingers tightening slightly on her arms before he released her. "I know," he admitted. "But I am glad—" He hesitated, looking her over as if searching for any sign of injury. "They haven't harmed you?"

Elysia shook her head. "No."

It was the truth.

Malvoria had been many things—infuriating, arrogant, suffocatingly powerful—but she had not hurt Elysia.

Not physically, at least.

Thalor nodded slightly, then sighed. "Then at least there is that."

The weight of the moment was heavy, but before Elysia could say anything more, Malvoria's voice cut through the space between them.

"Sit," she said, voice cool and commanding.

Elysia turned her head slightly, finding Malvoria still leaned back in her chair, propping her chin against her fist, grey eyes glinting with amusement—or perhaps boredom.

The tension did not dissipate as Elysia and her father moved to sit at the long dining table.

Zera followed immediately, settling into the seat beside Elysia with an almost possessive protectiveness.

Her eyes never stopped scanning the room, as if expecting a sudden attack, as if waiting for Malvoria to prove she was the monster they all believed her to be.

Elysia felt her presence like a shield at her side, but it did little to ease the unease curling in her stomach.

And then, the doors opened again.

A procession of demon maids entered, gliding across the dark marble floors with precision, their horns adorned with delicate silver chains, their deep crimson uniforms stark against their pale gray skin.

Each of them carried silver trays, steam curling from beneath the intricate domed lids.

The smell hit Elysia first.

It was rich. Savory, spiced in a way that was entirely foreign yet undeniably alluring.

One by one, the maids placed the trays before them, revealing the feast Malvoria had prepared.

Elysia's breath caught.

The dishes looked like they had come from a five-star banquet.

Thick cuts of perfectly seared meat, glistening beneath a drizzle of dark, fragrant sauce. Freshly baked bread, its golden crust dusted with herbs, still warm from the oven.

An array of roasted vegetables, some familiar—carrots, potatoes—but others more exotic, deep purple and glistening with oils unknown to her.

There were fruits unlike any she had ever seen before, sliced open to reveal glistening insides of deep blues and shimmering silvers, almost unnatural in their beauty.

And at the center of it all, a deep crimson wine, poured into delicate glass goblets, its scent rich and intoxicating even from a distance.

Elysia's stomach twisted.

It looked incredible.

It smelled delicious.

And yet—

She could not touch it.

She should not touch it.

Her mind raced, the thoughts coming fast, intrusive.

It's a trap.

Poisoned. Drugged.

Why would Malvoria offer her something this extravagant if there wasn't some hidden motive?

Her father's safety was still at stake. Zera's, too.

Malvoria could easily put something in her food. Could lace it with some kind of enchantment, something to make her compliant, something to make her bend to the Demon Queen's will.

She had heard of such things—subtle potions, spells woven into meals, concoctions that would make a person pliant, obedient.

Or worse.

No. No, I can't.

She stared at the plate before her, the steam rising in gentle curls, the scent wafting toward her like a cruel temptation.

A test.

It was a test.

Malvoria wanted her to eat.

She wanted to see what Elysia would do.

Would she accept? Would she submit?

Her hands curled into fists beneath the table, her nails pressing into her palms.

She wouldn't do it.

She would not give Malvoria the satisfaction—

And then—

Before she could even react—

Malvoria moved.

Effortless.

Unbothered.

She lifted her hand, plucked a piece of the seared meat from Elysia's plate, and brought it to her lips.

Elysia's breath caught.

She watched as Malvoria took a slow, deliberate bite, chewing in silence, her grey eyes never leaving Elysia's.

The tension thickened, suffocating.

And then Malvoria swallowed.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Satisfied?" she asked, voice like silk over steel.

Elysia swallowed hard, her throat tight with frustration, before lowering her gaze to the plate in front of her.

Now that she knew the food wasn't poisoned—now that Malvoria had so effortlessly taken a bite from her dish without hesitation—there was no reason not to eat.

Still, that didn't make it any easier.

The act of picking up her fork felt like admitting something she wasn't ready to admit. That Malvoria had control over this situation. That she was the one setting the pace.

But Elysia refused to let herself linger on the thought.

Instead, she forced herself to take a bite.

The moment the food touched her tongue, she almost stopped breathing.

It was good.

No, not just good. Incredible.

The meat was impossibly tender, practically melting in her mouth, the sauce rich and infused with spices she had never tasted before.

The bread was still warm, its crust perfectly crisp, the butter laced with something savory and just a hint of sweetness.

Even the vegetables, which she had expected to be bland or overly seasoned, were cooked to perfection—bursting with flavor in a way that made her stomach twist in betrayal.

She hated it.

Hated how much she enjoyed it.

Hated that Malvoria, of all people, was responsible for giving her the best meal she had ever tasted in her life.

She willed herself to remain composed, to eat as though it was nothing special. As if she wasn't internally marveling at every bite.

But Malvoria saw.

From across the table, Malvoria had returned to her seat, reclining slightly, watching her with an infuriating smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She knew.

She could see it.

Elysia forced herself not to react.

She focused on eating at a steady pace, keeping her face neutral, refusing to acknowledge the Demon Queen's gaze on her.

And then—

"You don't have to pretend... It's awful."

Zera's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Elysia stiffened.

Zera was watching her, unimpressed. Her blue eyes flickered to Malvoria, then back to Elysia, before she stabbed her own fork into a piece of meat and took a bite without hesitation.

The moment was broken.

Elysia exhaled softly, forcing herself to focus on her plate.

But even as she ate, she could feel Malvoria's smirk lingering, her gaze still heavy, still unreadable.