I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 201: Calm morning

Elysia woke slowly, the world filtered through golden threads of sunlight slipping through the thick velvet curtains.

The warmth around her was heavy and solid, like being tucked into the heart of a star. And when she shifted just slightly—something stronger shifted with her.

Two arms, firm and possessive, tightened instantly around her waist, one sliding beneath her, the other curling around her belly.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Malvoria’s voice rumbled low against her ear, the sound half growl, half velvet. "It’s rest time. No more moving."

Elysia blinked blearily, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. "I was going to breathe."

"Denied."

She giggled softly, trying and failing to wriggle free. Malvoria only pulled her closer, her nose brushing against the slope of Elysia’s neck, her breath warm and slow.

"You’re very clingy in the morning," Elysia whispered.

"I have a good reason. You’re warm, soft, pregnant, and mine."

A kiss pressed to the nape of her neck.

Another to her shoulder.

Then her jaw.

Each kiss was slow, patient, like Malvoria had all the time in the world.

"Also," she added between kisses, "you smell like strawberries and victory."

Elysia snorted, rolling in her arms until they were face to face. Malvoria’s grey eyes were still hazy with sleep, her hair a tousled dark mess, yet she looked almost regal like this—unburdened and wickedly content.

"I need to pee," Elysia said, voice caught between amusement and resignation.

"No you don’t," Malvoria replied, already nuzzling against her chest.

"I really do."

"Rebel."

Elysia laughed outright this time, managing to press a kiss to Malvoria’s lips before gently but firmly pushing at her shoulders. "If you want me in one piece, you need to let me go."

Malvoria huffed theatrically. "Fine. But I’m coming with you."

"To the bathroom?"

"To guard the door. Possibly interrogate the toilet."

Elysia raised an eyebrow. "You’re insane."

Malvoria kissed her again. "Only for you."

A short while later, after what had become a shared bathroom expedition (with Malvoria waiting dramatically outside the door and demanding updates), they stepped into the shower together.

The water was warm, cascading in gentle waves from a rune-enchanted fixture above. The soap smelled of rosewood and fresh linen. Malvoria washed her slowly, reverently, fingertips tracing every inch of her skin with a kind of quiet awe that made Elysia’s chest ache.

She stood behind her, arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

Neither spoke much.

The water spoke for them—its rhythm, its hush, the way it curled between them like a blessing.

By the time they stepped out, Elysia felt lighter, her skin tingling from warmth and touch, her heart full to bursting.

They arrived at the dining room hand in hand, Malvoria’s thumb lazily rubbing circles along her wrist. For once, the corridor was empty.

No servants darting around with scrolls. No nobles trying to shove petitions into Malvoria’s arms. Just quiet stone, and the sound of their steps echoing down the hall.

It was... nice.

Really nice.

They were the first to arrive.

Elysia blinked. "That’s strange."

Malvoria looked around, mildly surprised. "We’re never early."

They exchanged a glance.

Then sat.

Plates appeared by magic, summoned the moment they settled into their chairs—warm bread, butter, fruits that shimmered faintly with enchantment to keep them fresh.

Spiced eggs and soft cheeses. Malvoria poured tea. Elysia added too much honey. Everything felt calm.

It was almost suspicious.

And yet it wasn’t.

Elysia leaned her head on Malvoria’s shoulder as they ate, and for a few precious minutes, there was no war, no fire, no rebels.

Just them.

Until the door creaked open and a servant stepped in, pale and clearly nervous.

"Your Majesties..." she said, bowing low. "You are called to the Queen Mother’s office."

Malvoria sighed, setting her teacup down.

"Well," she muttered. "There goes breakfast."

The moment they left the dining room, the warm calm of breakfast dissolved into something tighter. Heavier.

Elysia could feel it pressing at her ribs, curling up beneath her skin like smoke before fire.

Veylira hadn’t said why they were being summoned. And when Veylira didn’t give information, it meant one of two things either it was far too simple to be worth explaining... or far too complicated.

"Think it’s about Zera and Seraphina?" Elysia asked as they turned down a quiet hallway, one of the older wings of the castle, where tapestries hung heavier and the windows turned narrow and arched.

Malvoria’s expression didn’t shift. But her hand tightened around Elysia’s. "Possibly. Or the rebels. Or a political threat. Or a noble who wants to name their pet after me."

"That last one’s a real risk."

"I had to ban a diplomat last year for naming their peacock ’Malvoria the Fireplumed.’"

Elysia raised an eyebrow. "Was it a good peacock at least?"

"It bit me."

"...Fair."

Their laughter faded as they reached Veylira’s office door, thick oak carved with demonic glyphs of warding and privacy.

Two guards flanked it, but they stepped aside the moment Malvoria approached.

Elysia inhaled softly as the door opened.

Inside, Veylira stood behind her desk, a scroll unrolled before her. Her posture was as straight as ever, her expression unreadable—but it wasn’t her that caught Elysia’s attention.

It was the woman standing in front of the desk.

She wasn’t tall, but she commanded attention instantly. Her body was all taut muscle beneath a sharply tailored captain’s uniform—midnight black with crimson trim, polished high boots, a dozen pins and military crests gleaming along one side of her chest.

Short red hair with streaks of pitch black framed her angular face, and two short black horns curved backward above her temples like sculpted obsidian.

But it was her eyes that froze Elysia in place.

One was grey—so much like Malvoria’s it made Elysia’s breath catch.

The other was red. Crimson, sharp, bright as molten steel.

This was no stranger.

This was family.

The woman smiled slowly, not kindly, but not cruelly either. There was something mischievous in it. Familiar.

"Little sister," she said, her voice rich and edged like a polished blade. "It’s been a while."

Malvoria’s expression didn’t so much as twitch.

Her voice was cold as frost.

"I did not miss you, Lara."