Elysia had been many things in her life—heir, fugitive, wife, mother. But sitting on a throne beside a demon queen with a two-month-old firebaby in her arms while nobles showered them with gifts?
That was new.
And a little overwhelming.
The thrones had been polished until they gleamed, black stone veined with deep red, carved into sharp curves and crowned with the Daemara crest.
Malvoria's seat was slightly taller, but Elysia had added an extra velvet cushion to hers out of pure pettiness.
Now they sat together like matching chaos and calm, Elysia cradling Kaelith in her arms while nobles queued up like hopeful supplicants bearing offerings for a goddess.
Kaelith, dressed in her rune-embroidered gown and baby circlet, looked entirely unbothered.
Malvoria looked like she was preparing for war.
"It's just gifts," Elysia murmured to her wife.
