Malvoria had always enjoyed entering enemy territory with style.
Teleporting into the Celestian palace with only Aliyah at her side, a pleasant smile on her face, and a dozen invisible fire-clones already peeling away through the corridors felt, in her opinion, like art.
The arrival itself was smooth. One step through the silver-rimmed portal in her own castle, one twist of stomach and heat and magic, and then the Celestian reception chamber unfolded around her in all its pale, polished, overly sanctified glory.
White stone, silver inlays, windows too clean, servants too careful, everything smelling faintly of flowers and repression.
Malvoria disliked it on principle.
Aliyah, however, looked delighted. Her little hand was in Malvoria's for exactly two seconds before she tried to hop forward to see everything at once. Malvoria tightened her grip just enough to keep her anchored.
"Stay with me," she murmured.
"I know," Aliyah whispered back, though the sparkle in her eyes said she was already thinking of trouble.
Good girl.
The plan was simple enough that Malvoria distrusted it immediately.
Step one: arrive looking harmless. Or as harmless as the Demon Queen could possibly look in black silk, gold chains, and enough latent fire in her blood to level a wing of the palace if someone annoyed her.
Step two: be seen escorting Aliyah back to her mother. Sweet. Domestic. Impossible to criticize openly.
Step three: while everyone was looking at her and the child, let her magic do the real work.
She had released the first wave of fire-clones the moment her feet hit the Celestian floor.
No one saw them. Or if they did, they would assume they had imagined it. Celestians were very gifted at pretending not to notice ominous things until ominous things set the curtains ablaze.
Malvoria gave the chamber one slow look, smiling politely at the nearest guard until he nearly swallowed his own tongue.
Then she spotted a maid.
Perfect.
The girl was young, silver-haired, carrying a tray of folded napkins with the expression of someone desperately trying to make it through her shift without attracting attention.
Malvoria crossed toward her with all the elegant inevitability of a woman who had been born to ruin weaker people's afternoons.
The maid saw her coming and almost dropped the tray.
"Your Majesty," the girl stammered, bowing too fast.
Malvoria smiled. "Relax. I'm not here to eat anyone."
Aliyah looked up. "Today."
The maid went pale.
Malvoria squeezed Aliyah's shoulder once in approval and then asked, "Where is Sarisa?"
The girl blinked. "Her Highness is… having dinner."
Malvoria tilted her head. "With Vaelen?"
The maid's eyes widened just enough to confirm everything. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Of course she was.
Malvoria felt irritation unfurl inside her like heat through oil. A romantic dinner. While Sarisa's life was collapsing around her, while Lara was pacing holes in the floor, while Neris existed at all, the palace had arranged candles and soft food and prince-shaped nonsense.
Disgusting.
"Where?" Malvoria asked.
The maid hesitated, likely wondering whether this answer might get her killed later by someone richer than the woman currently asking.
Malvoria's smile sharpened by exactly one degree.
The maid folded instantly. "The west garden pavilion, Your Majesty."
"There we are." Malvoria turned, already moving. "Thank you."
Aliyah copied her, with the regal little nod she did when she wanted to seem grown. "Thank you."
The maid looked as though she had survived a dragon encounter by pure luck.
Once they were in the corridor again, Aliyah had to half-skip to keep up with Malvoria's stride.
"Is Mama really having a romantic dinner?" she asked, sounding personally offended.
"Apparently," Malvoria said. "A crime, if you ask me."
Aliyah wrinkled her nose. "With Vaelen?"
"Yes."
"Ew."
"That is the correct reaction."
They turned down a long hall lined with moon-white columns and absurdly tasteful arrangements of flowers.
Malvoria hated all of it. The palace always looked as if someone had taken a perfectly good temple and taught it to judge people.
As they walked, she checked in on her clones the way only she could, feeling through the faint threads of magic connecting them back to her.
One was already moving beneath the old western guest wing. Another had slipped into a records hall.
A third was following the scent of medicinal herbs and old dust down a servants' stairway. Good. Excellent.
Hunt, little sparks. Bring me rot.
Malvoria looked down at Aliyah.
Aliyah was trying to look innocent. It was not working. It never did. Her face had inherited too much Lara for innocence to sit on it comfortably.
So she leaned down a little, bringing her mouth near Aliyah's ear as though sharing a state secret.
"I will give you all the sweet you want," Malvoria said, "if you ruin the romantic dinner."
Aliyah stopped walking.
Malvoria straightened and waited.
For a second the child simply stared up at her, clearly trying to judge whether this was a trick. Then understanding dawned across her face like sunrise over a battlefield.
Slowly, beautifully, Aliyah smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
A family smile.
Malvoria felt pride bloom in her chest.
"That many sweets?" Aliyah asked carefully.
"As many as your little criminal heart desires."
Aliyah looked ahead toward the turn that would lead them to the west garden pavilion. "Can I start with hello?"
Malvoria's own smile sharpened. "That is exactly where I would start."
Aliyah squeezed her hand once, hard with excitement, and then scampered ahead by three steps before remembering she was supposed to be behaving. She slowed immediately, but the grin stayed on her face, bright and wicked.
Malvoria followed at an easy pace, savoring the moment.
This was why she liked children. Not because they were innocent. That was a lie adults told themselves.
No, she liked them because children understood instinctively when a room deserved chaos. They knew when softness was wasted and when interruption was mercy.
As they neared the pavilion, the music reached them first. Soft strings. Candlelight spilled through the open latticework, honey-gold against the blue of evening.
Malvoria could already imagine it inside. Vaelen smiling his polite little prince smile. Sarisa sitting there in some expensive dress, trying not to claw her way out through the nearest window. Utterly intolerable.
One of her clones brushed the edge of her awareness just then, slipping through some narrow passage far beneath the palace, finding old wards and sealed stone and something that pulsed faintly wrong behind it.
Interesting.
Malvoria's mood improved even further.
She glanced down at Aliyah, who had gone solemn now in the way children did right before doing something outrageous.
Her little chin was lifted. Her curls bounced with every determined step. She looked adorable. Dangerous. Exactly as a child of this family ought to.
"Ready?" Malvoria murmured.
Aliyah nodded once.
Together they stepped into the warm candlelight of the pavilion, and Aliyah, with all the cheerful devastation of a perfectly aimed arrow, looked straight at Sarisa and said:
"Hi."