The castle dawned in a soft blush of gold and apricot, stained-glass windows scattering fractured sunlight across ancient rugs. It should have been a gentle, hopeful morning except in the royal chambers, chaos reigned.
Malvoria, Demon Queen of half the known world, General of uncounted legions, and—most daunting of all—mother to a willful almost-one-year-old, was locked in the sort of mortal struggle she could never have predicted.
She braced herself, boots on, hair braided, her hands steepled in silent, desperate prayer.
Elysia stood by the open wardrobe, beautiful as morning in a simple white blouse and fitted trousers, hiding a smile as she tried to coax Kaelith into her arms. Kaelith was having none of it.
"No!" the little demon declared, arms outstretched, latching herself around Malvoria's shin with the stubborn grip of a drowning sailor. "Mama not go. Kaelith come too!"
Malvoria tried to kneel, but Kaelith had wrapped around her leg like a python, refusing to budge.
