"Exactly at noon tomorrow," Maria said, brushing his hair off his forehead with practiced ease, "I've made arrangements for you to be moved. I can't use spatial magic directly—my mother's hypersensitive to it."
Yuriel let out a long, tired sigh. His hands were held apart by her, and she was comfortably seated on his crotch like she owned the space between his legs. Which, frankly, she kinda did.
Yuriel tilted his head, his expression scrunching with genuine confusion.
"So what? It's not like the palace doesn't use it all the time."
She then leaned forward to lie of his chest, her weight light but deliberate, hands resting on his shoulders, legs curled under her like a satisfied cat.
"It's not that simple, El," she replied, biting her bottom lip. "The queen… she's been searching for you."
He frowned. "Why?"
"That's what I want to know," she said, eyes narrowing. "Why is my mother always so interested in you? What do the two of you even talk about when she summons you?"
