The demon queen seems to be mad.
Elysia's grip tightened around the delicate porcelain of her teacup. The words, spoken in hushed tones just a few feet away, were barely more than whispers, but she caught them all the same.
A slow, simmering curiosity stirred within her. Why? What had happened to make Malvoria, the infamous Demon Queen, furious?
It wasn't like demons were known for their restraint, but something about the way they spoke—like it was a matter worth lowering their voices over—set her instincts on edge.
She turned her head slightly, pretending to adjust the lace cuffs of her gown as she casually flicked her gaze toward the two noblewomen. Lady Althea and Lady Helena. Of course.
Althea's honey-blonde curls gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, her delicate hands wrapped around a teacup as she leaned in, eyes gleaming with gossip. Helena, always the more cautious one, glanced around the garden warily, her auburn braid shifting over one shoulder as she did.
Elysia could see it in her posture—the way her spine stiffened, the way her gloved fingers twitched against the teacup handle. She knew she had said something she wasn't supposed to.
Elysia's irritation sharpened.
She pushed her chair back gracefully, rising to her feet. The silk of her gown, a deep sapphire blue embroidered with silver thread, shimmered in the afternoon sun. The motion was smooth, practiced—regal. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, there was a coil of tension tightening in her chest.
She would get her answers.
Althea and Helena had already sensed her movement. Their bodies tensed as they hurriedly placed their cups down, whispering something to each other with quick, nervous glances.
They were going to run.
Not today.
Elysia turned slightly, her voice carrying just enough command to draw the attention of her personal guard. "Zera."
At her name, Zera moved with effortless grace. She had been standing nearby, arms crossed, watching the noblewomen with detached amusement. Now, in an instant, she was in motion, stepping forward to cut off their retreat.
The women faltered.
"Going somewhere?" Zera asked, her tone almost playful, but her sharp blue eyes held no warmth.
Althea stilled, fingers curling into the folds of her gown. Helena, however, was not as good at masking her nervousness. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to Elysia before she lowered her eyes in forced politeness.
Elysia stepped closer, the measured tap of her boots against the stone pathway filling the silence between them. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," she said, voice pleasant, yet edged with something far firmer. "The demon queen is mad, you said?"
Helena shifted uncomfortably. "I—"
"Speak freely," Elysia interrupted, her violet eyes locking onto her with quiet intensity. "What exactly has Malvoria done to warrant such rumors?"
The two noblewomen exchanged a brief, uncertain glance. Althea bit her lower lip, hesitating.
Elysia folded her hands before her, tilting her head slightly. "Surely, if you can speak of it amongst yourselves, you can share it with your princess?"
Helena inhaled sharply, her throat bobbing as if she were swallowing down words she desperately wanted to say. Then, to Elysia's growing frustration, she lowered her gaze once more and curtseyed.
"Forgive us, Your Highness," she said quietly. "We should not have spoken at all. Please, excuse us."
With that, she turned on her heel and left. Althea, hesitating only a moment longer, followed her lead.
Elysia's hands clenched at her sides.
Cowards.
She watched their retreating forms, lips pressing into a firm line. They knew something. Something important. And yet, they had chosen silence.
Not because they were uncertain.
Not because they didn't want to gossip.
Because they were afraid.
A slow exhale left her lips, cooling the embers of her irritation. She had no proof, but she knew her father was involved in this. He had silenced them.
Which meant this was something she was not supposed to know.
Which meant she had to know.
But not yet.
She was still a princess, bound to her duties. As much as she wanted to storm into her father's chambers and demand answers, she had a tea party to endure first.
Her hands unclenched, and she turned back to the gathering, a practiced smile slipping over her features.
"How tiresome," she murmured under her breath.
Zera, still standing at her side, smirked slightly. "I could have made them talk."
Elysia shot her a look. "We're not threatening nobles in broad daylight."
"Pity." Zera's smirk widened before she exhaled and gestured toward the tea table. "Back to courtly hell, then?"
Elysia sighed dramatically. "Back to courtly hell."
She settled herself back onto her chair just in time for Lady Vivienne to lean in, her deep violet gown pristine as ever. "You seem troubled, Princess."
Elysia met her gaze, smiling coolly. "Am I?"
Vivienne studied her with thinly veiled interest. "Perhaps I'm mistaken. But I do wonder—" she sipped her tea delicately, pausing for effect "—is something the matter?"
Elysia tapped a single finger against the table, her expression unreadable. "Just thinking."
Vivienne hummed in understanding, but her sharp eyes gleamed with intrigue. The nobles could smell secrets like blood in the water.
Elysia had no intention of bleeding in front of them.
So, she leaned back, picked up her tea, and smiled as if she had not just been denied answers to a question that now burned in her mind.
She had learned the game of court long ago. And if there was one thing she excelled at, it was patience.
She would get her answers.
One way or another.