I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 187: Bunch of hypocrite

Elysia watched as Malvoria clutched the small gift box tightly in one hand, the wrapping creased where her fingers had instinctively curled tighter the moment she’d taken it.

She looked stunning in her sharp black suit lined with scarlet, the silver embroidery catching light like embers. Regal, lethal, composed her presence was a living weapon wrapped in velvet.

And Elysia?

Elysia was ready to scream.

This was supposed to be a private moment. A gentle gift. A quiet confession. She had planned everything down to the minute—the words, the gesture, the pacing.

They were supposed to slip away together, just the two of them, and Elysia would say it clearly, calmly.

"I’m pregnant."

Just like that.

Only now, her wife was surrounded by a cloud of fucking nobles who couldn’t take a hint to save their gilded, perfume-drenched lives.

Elysia hovered a few feet away as another pair of foreign emissaries approached Malvoria, all jeweled smiles and exaggerated bows.

"Queen Malvoria," cooed an elven ambassador with eyebrows longer than her skirt, "your kingdom is resplendent as ever. And might I say, you wear rule like a perfectly tailored cloak."

Oh, stars help us all, Elysia thought, barely suppressing a groan. Did she steal that line from a romance novel or just strangle a metaphor on the spot? Because it was so bad.

Malvoria offered her usual smile—subtle, queenly, revealing absolutely nothing.

"Your words are gracious," she said smoothly.

And just like that, three other nobles stepped in, forming a circle around her.

Elysia’s grip on her gown tightened.

Another one—this one a merchant lord dressed in enough gold chains to sink a ship—laughed too loudly and declared, "A birthday toast to the most formidable sovereign I’ve ever attempted not to offend!"

"You failed," muttered a general behind him.

"Oh, she loves it," the merchant lord beamed. "Nothing says diplomacy like fear, am I right?"

Elysia mentally gagged. The hypocrisy was suffocating. These were people who had whispered behind Malvoria’s back for years, who feared her strength, who questioned her marriage to a human—and now they fawned like trained dogs at the feet of power.

And then, to make everything worse, she appeared.

Lady Halyn.

Elysia had heard of her by the maids, rich, sinfully beautiful in that overly polished, completely hollow way.

She wore a high-cut silver gown and had a voice like dripping honey. The maids had said that she had try a few times to flirt with Malvoria.

"My queen," Halyn purred, stepping closer than necessary, her eyes roaming with interest. "Is it your birthday, or has the moon fallen just to light your smile?"

Malvoria blinked slowly, as if trying to determine whether that counted as a diplomatic offense or just severe poetic incompetence.

Elysia, however, was ready to bite someone.

Do it, a voice in her head whispered. Stab her with a salad fork. One little jab. No one will notice.

She didn’t, of course.

Mostly because there was no salad fork in sight. But if she could she wouldd have done it after all Malvoria would have cover her.

Instead, she bit her lip, her nerves twisting not just with anxiety now, but a hot, bristling jealousy.

Why couldn’t they just go? Why couldn’t anyone read the room?

Elysia was seconds from exploding, when finally Malvoria’s gaze flicked past the court of sycophants and landed on her.

And the tension in her jaw eased.

Malvoria excused herself with all the grace of a queen who didn’t need to apologize for leaving people behind.

When she reached Elysia’s side, she didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her for a moment—really looked. Her eyes softened. And then she reached out, lacing their fingers together without hesitation.

Elysia’s heart thudded so hard she thought the floor might catch the sound.

Without a word, Malvoria guided her away, their steps quiet against the polished stone as they slipped into one of the side corridors.

The music behind them faded into a soft hum, the laughter and clinking glasses muted by thick stone walls.

They stepped out onto one of the arched balconies that overlooked the moonlit garden. The air was cool and fresh, scented with night jasmine and magic-drenched roses that had been enchanted to bloom for the occasion.

Elysia turned to say something, but Malvoria was already pulling her in arms wrapping around her waist, forehead resting gently against hers.

"You don’t need to be jealous," Malvoria murmured.

Elysia blinked. "I—what?"

"Lady Halyn?" Malvoria smirked slightly. "Please. The only woman I want to be seduced by tonight is standing right here."

Elysia flushed scarlet, half embarrassed, half elated.

"I wasn’t jealous," she muttered. "Much."

Malvoria leaned in and kissed her slow, soft, the kind of kiss that said I’m here, I see you, I missed this too.

Elysia melted against her, her nerves beginning to untangle.

"This is better," Malvoria said when they pulled apart, exhaling slowly as she ran a hand through her dark braid. "You looked like you were about to explode back there."

"I was," Elysia admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. "They just... they kept talking and hovering and hitting on you."

"I didn’t notice."

"You’re lying."

"Obviously."

Elysia laughed again, the sound shaky but real. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the small wrapped box now tucked into Malvoria’s belt. Her heart beat faster.

"I... I have something important to tell you," she said, voice quieter now.

Malvoria’s gaze sharpened immediately. She tilted her head, sensing the shift.

"Go on."

Elysia took a breath.

Her stomach flipped.

Her mouth parted.

"I’m—"

BOOM.

The explosion tore through the air like the roar of a god.

It wasn’t distant.

It wasn’t subtle.

It was inside the palace.

The ground beneath them shook, the balcony windows rattling violently. From the banquet hall came screams, shouts, the unmistakable clatter of guards drawing weapons.

Firelight flared in the corridor behind them—unnatural, violent, and far too close.

Elysia stumbled backward, her ears ringing.

Malvoria caught her instantly, one arm braced around her, the other already moving for the ceremonial sword at her hip.

The box, her gift fell from her belt and hit the stone floor with a dull thud.

Neither of them moved to pick it up.

The celebration was over.