I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 196: I chose something better

The fire had died.

Not the one that scorched the throne room, nor the magic that had twisted around her soul like a noose—no, this was something else. Something deeper.

A stillness.

A quiet that hadn’t existed minutes ago.

Malvoria knelt beside Elysia, her arms still tight around her waist, one hand brushing damp silver strands from her face.

She hadn’t stopped touching her since she’d woken up, afraid that if she let go, it would all unravel again that Elysia would slip through her fingers like smoke and memory.

But there was no denying it.

Elysia was alive.

And yet... something about her wasn’t the same.

Not just the glow in her eyes. Not just the violet shimmer that still pulsed faintly around her skin like an afterimage of lightning. Her magic, her presence was different.

Malvoria could feel it as plainly as heat.

It wasn’t red anymore.

It wasn’t even hers, not entirely.

It hummed like a second heartbeat beneath Elysia’s skin, soft and ancient and strangely new. A power growing inside her, vast but still slumbering. Malvoria’s demonic instincts flared in response—not in threat, but recognition.

This was not the magic of a human princess.

It was something older.

Something inherited.

Or born.

And yet, Elysia wielded it like it belonged to her.

She was on her feet now, slow and steady, despite the blood still drying on her robes. The purple flame flickered again across her palm, controlled, refined.

She turned toward the two figures frozen in place, Zera and Seraphina, both bound in that same otherworldly fire and her voice rang out like a bell cracked with fury.

"On your knees."

Malvoria blinked.

Zera resisted, snarling, shaking her head—but the fire pulsed, and her body obeyed. She dropped like a marionette cut free, breath ragged, fury in her eyes. Seraphina followed, slower, her jaw tight with pain and defiance, but there was no fight left in her limbs.

Elysia stepped forward.

Not with hesitation.

With command.

"You came here to take me," she said. "To ’rescue’ me. As if I’m yours to move, yours to order, yours to own."

Zera flinched, blood trickling from her split lip.

"You betrayed everything we fought for," she whispered.

"No." Elysia’s voice didn’t shake. "I chose something better. I chose someone better."

Malvoria’s breath caught at that. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

It shouldn’t have made her heart beat faster. It shouldn’t have stirred heat in her blood, not now—not after everything. But watching Elysia stand there, battered, burning with violet light, commanding enemies like a queen born of ash and storm?

It was maddeningly, ruinously beautiful.

She licked her lips, eyes trailing over the curve of Elysia’s jaw, the blood-streaked hollow of her throat, the way her back straightened when challenged.

Stars help her.

Malvoria had always been drawn to power.

And Elysia—Elysia was blooming with it.

A voice echoed through the broken hall before she could move closer.

"Malvoria !"

That voice.

Only one person in the world could make her name sound like both a threat and a disappointed scolding.

Malvoria turned.

Veylira stood at the far end of the ruined throne room, her dark violet cloak fluttering in the smoke. Behind her, a dozen guards flanked a group of castle healers, all wide-eyed and pale at the destruction.

The Queen Mother’s eyes burned like stars behind a curtain of shadow.

She was furious.

Which was impressive, considering Malvoria had just torn apart a rebel faction with her bare hands.

"What in all infernal realms happened here?" Veylira snapped, striding forward, heels clicking over broken stone like war drums.

"I had it under control," Malvoria said flatly.

Veylira didn’t break stride. "You had nothing under control. Your palace is rubble, your throne’s cracked in half, and your wife was stabbed!"

The word stabbed echoed with too much weight.

Elysia tensed.

Malvoria’s jaw clenched. "She saved me."

"Which is not how that’s supposed to go," Veylira hissed, rounding on her. "You were meant to protect her, not the other way around!"

Healers rushed past them to reach Elysia, who finally allowed herself to lean against one of the columns as glowing hands hovered over her wound. The blood stopped almost immediately. A hum of golden magic worked to close the injury.

Still, Malvoria couldn’t take her eyes off her.

"I didn’t see it coming," she murmured. "I tried—"

"You shouldn’t have had to try," Veylira interrupted. "You knew the risks. You knew they’d come."

Malvoria didn’t respond.

She couldn’t.

The guilt already weighed heavy enough on her chest to break her ribs.

A moment passed in silence.

Then Veylira turned back toward the healers, eyes scanning Elysia’s face with a tenderness she didn’t show her daughter. Her voice softened. "Is she stable?"

One of the healers nodded. "She will be. But she needs rest. The magical residue around her... it’s potent. Ancient. She’s carrying something—"

"That’s enough," Malvoria cut in quickly.

Veylira raised a brow but didn’t press.

Instead, she looked at the blood-soaked stones, the scorched pillars, the broken banners.

"Let’s get to a room now," she said.

And this time, no one argued.

Malvoria didn’t wait for permission.

She strode past the healers and guards, her eyes locked on Elysia, who still leaned against a cracked pillar with violet shimmer clinging faintly to her skin like afterglow.

The moment their gazes met, something in Elysia’s shoulders eased. As if the only anchor left in the wreckage was her.

Malvoria reached her without a word.

"Mal," Elysia began, already bracing her hands on the wall, preparing to push herself upright. "I can walk. Really."

Malvoria didn’t reply.

She simply bent, swept Elysia up into her arms, and held her close. Not like a burden, not like a princess from a tale—but like something precious, weightless, and irreplaceable.

Elysia let out a soft breath against her shoulder. "You’re being stubborn."

Malvoria’s voice was quiet but firm. "You almost died."

"I didn’t."

"You bled on my throne."

"That sounds dramatic."

"It was dramatic."

Their eyes met.

And for the first time since the flames died, Malvoria allowed a small smile.

"It’s the least I can do," she added. "After everything."

She carried her through the ruined halls, stepping over rubble and ash as the chaos faded behind them.

When the door to their private chambers closed and silence wrapped around them, Malvoria lowered Elysia gently onto the bed.

And then knelt beside her, voice barely above a whisper.

"Let me take care of you now."