You’re a menace to single people

The sun had dipped low in the sky, the shadows in their chambers growing long and golden as the distant toll of the evening bell echoed through the corridors of the palace.

Dinner time.

Malvoria sat back reluctantly, fingers brushing once more over the ceremonial blade Elysia had just admired.

She hadn't wanted to move, this moment with her wife and their child was too rare, too tender. But duty, as always, called.

With deliberate care, she lifted the blade and turned toward the obsidian chest near the fireplace.

The room was quiet, lit only by warm sconces and the dying sunlight. Inside the chest were the few things she kept closest, letters from her mothers, war medallions from long-past campaigns, and a single, beautifully crafted blade resting at the center on black velvet.

The blade Elysia had given her for her birthday.