I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 199: Are we hallucinating?

Stepping out of the chamber, Malvoria expected to be met with the scent of smoke, the groan of injured walls, and the trailing stench of scorched stone. But the hallway before her... was pristine.

The cracked sconces had been replaced. The tapestries, somehow, rehung. Even the deep gouges in the marble floor—ones she was sure she’d carved herself with her fire-forged sword—were gone. Polished. Smooth.

Elysia blinked beside her. "Are we hallucinating?"

Malvoria narrowed her eyes at a particularly smug-looking wall sconce. "Either someone rebuilt half the palace in an afternoon..."

"Or we’ve been out longer than we thought."

They exchanged a look.

"Magic?" Elysia guessed.

"Definitely magic."

The deeper they went, the stranger it became. Every hallway gleamed. Flowers lined the corridors.

The blood that had soaked into the stone after the battle was nowhere to be seen. It smelled of freshly baked bread and jasmine.

Servants passed them with bows, none bearing the panicked expressions she’d expect after an attempted coup.

By the time they reached the dining hall, Malvoria’s instincts were at war. One part of her was relieved. The other, suspicious.

And then they stepped inside.

And forgot everything.

The table.

It groaned under the weight of food.

Roasted meats, golden breads, platters of grilled vegetables, silver trays overflowing with desserts that shimmered with edible magic dust.

There was an entire corner dedicated to cheese. Another for spiced fruit. And in the center, like a throne of its own, a cushioned, elevated chair clearly meant for Elysia.

Elysia stopped short in the doorway.

Malvoria blinked.

Veylira stood at the far end of the table, slicing into what appeared to be a three-layered custard tart with the precision of a war general. She didn’t even look up.

"Took you long enough," she said.

"Are you—" Malvoria frowned. "Hosting a coronation?"

"No," Veylira replied. "A dinner. For my daughter-in-law. Who is now eating for two."

Elysia turned bright red. "You didn’t need to do all—!"

"You think I would let my daughter in law starve?" Veylira snorted. " Never that would never happen."

Elysia covered her face.

Malvoria, biting back a smirk, leaned in and murmured, "She’s going to be insufferable now."

"You’re enjoying this."

"Deeply."

They were barely seated before Veylira began piling food onto Elysia’s plate. Not just a modest amount. A mountain.

Elysia blinked at the stack of roasted root vegetables, the bread, the charred meat, the second stack of bread, and then the aggressively arranged tower of berries and whipped cream.

"I... can’t eat all of that," she protested weakly.

Veylira placed a fork in her hand. "Yes, you can."

Malvoria joined in, casually spooning more onto the plate. "She’s right. You’re growing a little firestorm."

Elysia gawked. "You two are mad."

Veylira grinned. "Correct."

The chaos that followed was unlike anything the royal dining room had ever seen.

Between Veylira lecturing Elysia about proper hydration, Malvoria trying to sneak bites off her plate, and two servants attempting to offer her different flavored teas "for the baby’s magical development," Elysia looked halfway between laughing and fleeing.

And still, she ate.

Malvoria watched her with open adoration, stealing glances between bites of her own meal. The shadows beneath Elysia’s eyes had faded. Her cheeks had color. She looked alive again.

Strong.

Powerful.

Hers.

Eventually, as the laughter ebbed and the wine began to settle in their veins, Malvoria glanced around the flawless room and frowned.

"Alright," she said. "How is the castle already repaired?"

Veylira didn’t look up from her third slice of tart.

"Your grandmother is here," she said flatly. "And she is very mad."

The doors to the dining hall flew open with the force of a war spell.

Malvoria didn’t flinch—but she did tighten her grip on the crystal goblet she was holding. Veylira didn’t even turn her head.

She simply let out a resigned sigh and reached for another slice of tart.

The woman who strode into the room did not look like she belonged to the title "Grandmother."

Her stride was that of a general who had just claimed her tenth battlefield. Her black hair, bound in a high, sleek twist, shimmered with dark gloss despite her ninety-eight years.

Her armor—yes, armor—was high-collared, tailored like a formal coat, with gold-trimmed lapels and dragon-scale boots.

And those eyes sharp, stormy grey, just like Malvoria’s pierced the room with immediate judgment.

"Who," she demanded, her voice carrying effortlessly, "forgot to invite me to the wedding of my granddaughter?!"

Malvoria groaned into her hands. "Oh no."

Veylira didn’t even look guilty. "You were halfway across the world spelunking with pirates."

"That is not an excuse!" Saelira snapped, already pointing accusingly. "You’re the Queen Mother! You sent invitations to highland warlords and ghost kings, but not your own mother?"

"You were unreachable!" Veylira said, exasperated. "I sent twenty letters! They came back with burn marks and a note saying ’Gone looking for a sunken temple, be back when I find a leviathan.’"

Saelira waved a dismissive hand. "I was busy. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have been invited!"

"I tried!" Veylira argued.

Elysia whispered to Malvoria, "Is this... normal?"

"No," Malvoria murmured. "This is worse."

But then Saelira’s gaze landed on Elysia.

And everything changed.

Her stern expression melted into delight. "Ohhh, so this is the one?"

She moved with shocking speed for someone pushing a century, crossing the room in an instant and all but swooping in on Elysia. Her hands cupped Elysia’s cheeks like they were made of glass.

"Stars above, you’re beautiful. I see now why my granddaughter risked everything to marry you."

Elysia blinked. "Uh—thank you?"

"And thank the gods the child will have your face," Saelira added with a wink. "I love Malvoria, but that glare is hereditary. We don’t need a tiny fire-demon with scowl lines."

Malvoria dropped her head onto the table with a thud. "Please stop talking."

Malvoria didn’t dare lift her head from the table. She could already hear Veylira laughing into her wine and the faint, horrified wheeze that meant Elysia was caught between politeness and panic.

"My granddaughter always was too serious," Saelira went on, fluffing Elysia’s hair with no regard for royal formality. "You should’ve seen her as a child. Scowled at her own birthday cake." freewēbnoveℓ.com

"I was two," Malvoria muttered into the polished wood.

"Exactly," Saelira chirped. "And don’t get me started on how she used to practice her intimidation stare in the mirror."

"She still does," Elysia said before she could stop herself.

Malvoria lifted her head slowly, glaring. "Traitor."

But Saelira beamed and slipped her arm around Elysia’s shoulders like they were long-lost best friends.

"Oh, I like you."

She swept around the table, practically shoving Veylira out of the way with a chair scrape that could’ve been a battle cry, and seated herself directly next to Elysia with a regal air and a gleam in her eye.

"I have so much to tell you."