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... ith both napping—one curled in the sun-drenched bed, the other sprawled like a baby starfish in her crib—Malvoria felt, for the first time in days, the full, dazzling freedom of solitude.

But instead of using it to catch up on paperwork or wage silent war with the mountain of unread reports on her desk, she settled at the small table by the window with parchment, ink, and a singular purpose: to plan the perfect date.

It had been too long since they’d had time for just the two of ...

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The prosperity of Piltover is on the surface, the barrenness of Zaun is miserable.

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