I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 182: The only soft place she had left

The council chamber was colder than usual.

Malvoria hadn’t noticed it when she entered her focus was too sharp, her mind too full. But now, standing at the head of the obsidian table, flanked by her generals, spies, and advisors, she felt the chill seeping into the stone. It wasn’t the temperature.

It was the silence.

The kind of silence that came before the strike of a blade.

Six high-ranking figures surrounded the table. All were demons, each carved by power, magic, and years of bloody history.

General Varynth, towering and horned, with a reputation for setting battlefields aflame with his breath alone.

High Strategist Kaella, thin and unyielding, with ink-stained hands and an uncanny ability to plan wars down to the heartbeat.

And beside them, her spymaster Ilrien, draped in shadows as if they obeyed him and three others who had served her faithfully through campaigns and attempted coups alike.

And all of them looked at her with a single shared expression.

Dread.

"The prisoner has confirmed Zera’s involvement," Malvoria said calmly, her hands folded behind her back, posture straight.

"We now know the rebel faction is not only active—but organized. Hidden in cells. Led by a figure still unnamed."

Varynth growled, the deep rasp of his voice vibrating the stone beneath them. "We should burn every suspected den between here and the border. Flush them out."

"Agreed," snapped one of the other generals, a sharp-toothed woman with a crimson tattoo over one eye. "No more delays. If Zera has betrayed us, she’s compromised this castle. That’s not just treason, that’s war."

"I understand the instinct," Malvoria replied, her tone level. "But rushing into the dark with fire will only burn what’s visible. We’ll never reach the heart of this if we ignite it prematurely."

Kaella leaned forward, fingers steepled. "If we wait too long, we give them time. They’re already moving pieces across the board, and now we know they’ve attempted to approach the Princess directly. That man stabbed a guard just to speak with her."

The reminder lit something in Malvoria’s gut.

A slow, boiling fury that had simmered since last night.

She kept her face composed. Her hands didn’t tremble. But her nails dug into her palms behind her back until the skin there smarted.

Zera.

Zera, who had walked these halls, trained with their soldiers, stood close to Elysia. Smiled at her.

Zera, who had once called herself Elysia’s friend.

The image of her hands near Elysia’s of her standing too close, watching too closely came back to Malvoria now with a tainted clarity.

She saw it all differently. Each moment suddenly sharpened into something poisoned.

The idea that someone had infiltrated her home was infuriating.

But the thought that this betrayal reached for Elysia—touched Elysia?

That was unforgivable.

She ground her teeth together.

"My Queen," Ilrien said softly.

"You asked us to identify rebel patterns last month. I believe we’ve narrowed down several possible locations—warehouses, abandoned outposts, smuggler trails used only at night. We’ve begun placing shadows at the entrances, but if we’re to proceed, I will need authorization to pull in the deep informants."

"Pull them," Malvoria said. "But no contact. No moves. I want information. Nothing else. Not yet."

Kaella blinked. "You’re still waiting?"

"I’m planning," Malvoria said, her voice cold enough to still the room. "We’re not chasing ghosts. Not this time. They want chaos before the banquet. We’ll give them silence instead. Let them wonder how much we know."

Varynth crossed his arms, snarling. "And if they strike first?"

Malvoria turned her gaze on him. "Then I will strike last."

The room held its breath.

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

"Surveillance is to be doubled," she continued.

"All routes into the capital monitored. No soldiers are to mention Zera’s name until I give the order. I want her movements tracked. Her contacts noted. If she sends even one message to anyone outside this realm, I want to read it before she does."

The table bowed in quiet agreement.

But beneath her polished words and calm mask, Malvoria was unraveling.

The fury hadn’t left her.

It crawled just beneath her ribs now, dark and rising, wrapping around something far more vulnerable than rage. Something she didn’t allow herself to name.

Fear.

Not for the kingdom.

Not even for her crown.

For Elysia.

The only soft place she had left.

By the time she returned to their chambers, the fire in the hearth was high, casting golden light over the stone walls. The soft scent of lavender and spiced tea drifted through the room.

She paused in the doorway, her hand still on the handle, allowing herself a moment of stillness she hadn’t felt since the night before.

Elysia was curled in the reading chair by the fire, one leg tucked beneath her, her robe wrapped loosely around her. A book rested open in her lap, fingers idly stroking the spine, but she wasn’t reading.

She was looking at the fire.

And in the light, she looked ethereal.

Her silver hair caught the flame’s glow like threads of moonlight, tumbling in soft waves down her back. Her face was lit with an amber hue, cheek resting in one palm, eyes distant.

Something in her had shifted.

Malvoria couldn’t say what it was. There was no visible change—no wound, no sign of illness—but there was something.

A new softness in the curve of her mouth.

A deeper stillness in her posture.

Malvoria watched her for a heartbeat longer, feeling her chest tighten.

And then she stepped forward.

Elysia looked up and smiled. Tired. Warm.

"You’re here."

Malvoria crossed the room, kneeling beside her chair to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I left too early. I should have said something."

"It’s alright," Elysia murmured, reaching to brush her fingers through Malvoria’s hair. "You had work."

"I still should have kissed you goodbye."

"You kiss me enough."

"Not possible."

That made Elysia laugh, soft and surprised. Malvoria leaned up and kissed her again—on the cheek, the jaw, the edge of her collarbone. Then again, slower, deeper, as she rested her forehead against Elysia’s.

"I missed you today," she said quietly.

Elysia smiled, though there was a flicker barely perceptible in her eyes. Something held back.

Malvoria didn’t see it.

She only saw her wife, her warmth, her quiet anchor.

And for the first time since the prisoner’s words had sunk their hooks into her, Malvoria allowed herself to exhale.

For this moment, at least, she could forget the war.

And just breathe.