I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 207: Let her breathe

A few days had passed since that soft night filled with whispers of names and dreams. Elysia awoke before the sun had fully risen, golden light stretching through the curtains like delicate fingers.

Malvoria still slept beside her, an arm draped protectively over her waist, her breaths steady and even.

For a moment, Elysia simply watched her queen, her wife, her impossible protector. And then, gently, she slipped free from her embrace and rose.

Today, she wanted air. Sunlight. A few hours not spent cloistered inside strategy rooms or under the ever-watchful gaze of ministers.

Today, she would walk the gardens.

The palace gardens had been fully restored in the past months. The damage from the rebel attack had been erased with surprising speed—thanks, Elysia suspected, to Malvoria’s grandmother and her terrifyingly efficient magic.

Stone paths had been resealed, hedges trimmed into regal perfection, and flowers coaxed into bloom long before their season.

Wrapped in a soft, flowing dress the color of dawn, her silver hair braided loosely over one shoulder, Elysia stepped out into the warm morning air.

The scent of roses met her first.

It was the rose garden that called to her—the same one where, in those early days, she had walked alone, questioning everything.

Back when she had been a political pawn, a captured queen traded for her father’s life. She used to trace her fingers along the velvet petals and wonder what kind of life she would be forced to endure here.

Now, as she stepped between rows of pale pink, ivory, and crimson blooms, the curve of her belly visible beneath her dress, everything felt different.

She belonged.

The gardeners greeted her with warm smiles and hurried bows. One of them—Tovel, a demon with curling green horns and earth-stained gloves—offered her a handful of dewdrop-laced petals.

"For good fortune, Your Majesty. The roses bloomed brighter after you arrived."

Elysia laughed softly, tucking a petal behind her ear. "You’re too kind."

She walked slowly, the gravel path crunching beneath her slippers, occasionally stopping to speak with staff or admire a particularly showy bloom. Her fingers trailed along the edge of a stone bench, the sunlight warming her skin. For the first time in days, she felt... calm.

Then came the nobles.

She noticed them the moment they entered the garden—three of them, elegantly dressed in robes that shimmered like oil in the sun. All demons. Two men, one woman, all with the quiet grace of practiced diplomacy.

They approached with the smooth, measured confidence of people who had rehearsed their words in advance.

"Your Majesty," the tallest of the three said, offering a deep bow. His horns were polished obsidian, and his smile was as sharp as his silver cuffs. "It is an honor to see you among the gardens. The court speaks fondly of your strength during the recent attack."

Elysia inclined her head politely. "I’m glad the garden is open again. It brings peace."

"Peace is always fragile," the woman added with a soft voice and pale violet eyes. "Especially in times like these. The child you carry is already a symbol of unity. There is much hope and expectation resting on your shoulders."

Subtle. Smooth. Elysia smiled without baring her teeth.

The third noble, younger and more eager, stepped forward. "We’ve heard talk of alliances, of renewed trade between Arvandor and the Demon Realm. Will you be involved in such decisions, Your Majesty?"

Elysia opened her mouth to answer politely, vaguely but a voice cut in, sharp and entirely unimpressed.

"She will answer when she’s not busy trying to enjoy her morning, thank you."

One of the palace maids had stormed over. Mari, a feisty little thing with curled black horns and a short red apron, looked utterly unfazed by the nobility standing before her. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"Did you not see her walking peacefully among the roses? That belly holds our future. Let her breathe."

Elysia blinked, stunned. The nobles looked equally shocked.

"I—" the silver-cuffed one began.

"No," Mari said. "You’ve had enough words. Back to the politics room with you lot."

Elysia bit her lip, struggling not to laugh.

The nobles quickly bowed and retreated, murmuring apologies and glancing nervously at the guards stationed nearby, who hadn’t even moved—likely because they agreed with Mari but didn’t want to get involved.

Once they were gone, Mari turned to Elysia, sniffed, and handed her a fresh rosebud. "There. Now you can pretend it didn’t happen."

Elysia took it with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mari."

"Anytime. Nobles are like crows, shiny crowns make them circle."

That finally made Elysia laugh.

She continued her walk, this time with more guards at a discreet distance, and a few maids trailing behind as if she might spontaneously need a chair, tea, or a flamethrower.

Honestly, Elysia didn’t mind the attention as much anymore. She was learning to distinguish the genuine from the false.

Still, it left her feeling exposed sometimes especially now, when her body moved slower, heavier.

She sat beneath a blooming rose arch, letting the sunlight soak into her skin.

She had gone from political captive to consort. From tolerated guest to beloved. And now... mother-to-be.

It was strange how the world could turn so sharply, and yet still feel like it was moving in the right direction.

Her peace didn’t last.

A shout broke the serenity, followed by the urgent clanging of the garden’s outer bells.

Elysia stood abruptly, and the guards closed in around her instantly, forming a protective half-circle. "What is it?" she asked.

Smoke. She could see it—far beyond the palace walls, dark and curling into the sky like a wound.

One of the guards spoke swiftly. "It’s outside the capital, near the merchant route. A patrol has already been dispatched."

"Get her inside," another said.

Elysia resisted, but only slightly. She knew better than to argue in front of the staff. Two guards took up positions beside her, guiding her through the now-tense garden path, her heart hammering as the scent of roses was overtaken by distant ash.

Was this it?

Were the rebels trying again?

Or was this just a feint—a way to stir fear, to keep them off-balance?

By the time they returned to the palace, her limbs ached and her back protested, but she said nothing.

The corridor they passed through was sunlit and quiet, the air heavy with the scent of lemon oil and polished marble. A maid fetched her tea, and she sat near one of the tall arched windows, pressing a hand to her stomach.

The baby moved. Just once. A small flutter beneath her palm.

Elysia exhaled slowly.

"We’ll protect you," she whispered, voice low, as her eyes fixed on the rising smoke far beyond the horizon. "No matter what."