Are you crying ?
The moment the dessert hit the floor, Elysia's mind replayed it over and over again.
The delicate porcelain plate, shattering against the cold black marble. The carefully arranged layers of soft sponge, rich cream, and ripe strawberries, now reduced to a ruined mess.
She shouldn't care.
She shouldn't.
But the image stuck.
Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides, the taste of the meal still lingering faintly on her tongue, and despite the tension, despite the unspoken war between Malvoria and Zera, a foolish, irrational part of her mourned the loss of that dessert.
Because, damn it, she had actually wanted to eat it.
And now it was gone.
Wasted.
Ruined by nothing more than pride and misplaced anger.
The silence in the dining hall was suffocating.
Elysia knew everyone was watching, waiting for her reaction—for Malvoria's reaction—but all she could focus on was the weight in her chest, the strange, conflicting emotions that refused to settle.
Zera had acted in her defense.
That much was clear.
She had been furious, barely holding herself together, and this—this reckless act of defiance—was her way of fighting back.
But at what cost?
What had throwing the dessert accomplished?
Would it stop Malvoria from holding them captive? No.
Would it undo everything that had already happened? No.
Would it change anything?
No.
It was pointless.
And yet, Elysia could not bring herself to be angry at Zera for it.
Because wasn't she just as frustrated?
Wasn't she tired of this?
Tired of the forced civility, the unspoken battles, the heavy weight of control pressing down on her from all sides?
But even so—
Did the dessert deserve this?
The thought was ridiculous, almost laughable, but it kept circling in her mind like an echo that wouldn't fade.
The dessert had been made for her.
Malvoria had ordered it specifically.
And—gods help her—Elysia had wanted it.
But now, it lay in a pile of broken porcelain and crushed fruit, another casualty of this endless struggle.
She inhaled slowly, willing herself to push away the useless thoughts, to ignore the ridiculous ache of something unspoken curling in her chest.
Then, without a word, she pushed back her chair and stood.
The room was still deathly silent.
She didn't look at Zera.
She didn't look at Malvoria.
She didn't look at the shattered remains of what should have been a perfectly good dessert.
She just walked.
Her steps were steady, controlled, her posture regal as she moved toward the doors, ignoring the weight of every gaze on her.
She needed to leave.
She needed to think.
And, gods help her, she needed to stop thinking about that damn dessert.
---
Elysia stormed into her room, slamming the door shut behind her with more force than necessary.
She didn't care.
She didn't care about the heavy silence that had followed her out of the dining hall, didn't care about Malvoria's unreadable expression, didn't care about whatever chaos Zera had likely stirred in her wake.
What she did care about—what was currently gnawing at the edges of her sanity—was that damn dessert.
Elysia threw herself onto the massive bed, burying her face into the plush silk pillows with a long, muffled groan.
Why?
Why had Zera done that?
What had the dessert done to deserve such cruelty?
It wasn't Malvoria's fault that the chefs in this cursed castle could cook better than anything Elysia had ever had before.
And it certainly wasn't the dessert's fault that it had looked so good—so perfect, so decadent—only to meet such a tragic fate at the hands of her overly aggressive bodyguard.
And now she would never know.
Would it have been soft? Fluffy? Would the strawberries have been perfectly ripe, or just a little tart, balancing the sweetness of the cream?
It was an unnecessary thought.
An irrelevant thought.
And yet—
A sniffle escaped her before she could stop it.
Elysia groaned again, rolling onto her side and throwing an arm over her eyes.
She refused to cry over this.
She refused.
But the betrayal—the loss—was too much.
Her stomach clenched in bitter disappointment, and before she could fully process just how absurd she was being, another sniffle escaped, then another.
It was over.
Her dignity was gone.
She was officially mourning a dessert.
And, of course—because the gods hated her—this was the moment Zera chose to barge in.
The door swung open without a knock, and Elysia barely had time to sit up before Zera stepped inside, her expression unreadable.
Elysia hastily wiped at her face, trying to compose herself, but she knew she wasn't fast enough.
Zera froze.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then—
"...Are you crying?"
Elysia stiffened, her hands still pressed to her cheeks.
"No," she said immediately, her voice slightly thick.
Zera took another step inside, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait. Are you—?" Her eyes flicked toward the untouched tray of food on the table, then back to Elysia, realization dawning on her face.
Elysia knew the exact moment she put it together.
Because Zera did something unforgivable.
She grinned.
Elysia scowled. "Don't you dare—"
"You're crying over the dessert."
Elysia grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at her.
Zera dodged it effortlessly, but she was already laughing.
"Shut up!" Elysia snapped, grabbing another pillow.
Zera held up her hands in mock surrender, biting her lip as if trying to contain her amusement. "I was expecting you to be upset about, I don't know, being held hostage? Losing your kingdom? The demon queen pinning you to a bed?"
"I was fine until you threw my dessert on the floor!"
The words left her mouth before she could stop them.
Zera howled.
Elysia launched another pillow at her face.
Zera was still laughing as she dodged it, leaning against the doorframe. "Gods above, I thought I had seen everything—"
"Get out."
Zera smirked. "You don't mean that."
"Out."
Zera snickered but stepped back, still grinning. "You're never going to let this go, are you?"
Elysia crossed her arms. "I will be thinking about that dessert for the rest of my life."
Zera chuckled, shaking her head before finally retreating. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you to your grief."
She closed the door behind her, and Elysia let out a long, dramatic sigh, collapsing back onto the bed.
The silence returned.
And yet—
Just as she was about to fully wallow in her suffering, another knock came at the door.
She frowned, pushing herself up slightly.
Before she could respond, the door opened—
A demon servant entered, carrying a silver tray.
And on that tray—
A perfectly made, untouched dessert.
Elysia stared.
The demon servant stepped forward, their movements precise and graceful as they carefully placed the silver tray on the nearby table.
The delicate scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream drifted through the air, teasing Elysia's senses.
Elysia sat up fully, staring at the dessert in disbelief. It was exactly the same as the one that had been thrown to the floor—pristine, untouched, as if the previous disaster had never happened.
The servant bowed slightly, their expression neutral.
"The Queen sends this for you," they said smoothly. "She thought it would be a shame if you did not get to taste it."
Elysia blinked.
Her mouth opened, then closed.
Of course, Malvoria had noticed. Of course she had.
Heat crept up Elysia's neck, a mix of lingering frustration and something else—something she refused to name.
She shouldn't accept it.
She should send it back.
But gods help her, she wanted it.
She swallowed, glancing at the servant before muttering, "Fine. Leave it."
The servant bowed again and exited without another word.
Elysia stared at the dessert for a long moment.
Then, with a sigh, she picked up the fork.