I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 209: Royal visitors

Seven months.

Elysia could barely believe it.

Each morning, the weight of her child was a little heavier. Her balance had shifted, her steps slower, her breath shorter.

And yet, somehow, she didn’t feel weaker—just... transformed. Changed in quiet, invisible ways.

The kind of change that only became real when she looked down and saw her belly rising beneath her gown, felt the flutter of a tiny foot against her ribs, or caught Malvoria watching her like she was the sun and moon wrapped in one fragile body.

But today?

Today was anything but quiet.

She had barely made it down the hallway without someone attempting to fuss over her posture, fetch her a cushion, or whisper news of some minor incident, before a formal herald had burst into the corridor.

"A celestial delegation has arrived!" he’d announced with far too much enthusiasm for someone who clearly hadn’t been awake half the night with an aching spine and a child doing pirouettes in her womb.

Now, seated in the grand reception hall—more velvet than stone today, thanks to decorative enchantments—the golden morning light framed her like a painting as she tried to keep her face poised.

Composed.

Neutral.

A smile that said both welcome and do not push me.

Malvoria was not with her. She was tied up in a meeting with the western war marshals, something about supply lines and rune encryption. Veylira had suggested Elysia sit through the Celestial visit without her.

"It’s ceremonial," the Queen Mother had said. "They’ll gift you perfumed scrolls and scented oils, ask if your baby glows in the womb, and then flutter away like polite pigeons."

It had sounded manageable.

But Elysia was beginning to suspect that manageable was Veylira’s code for exhausting and mildly sinister.

The Celestial delegation arrived in a whirl of white silk and starlight.

There were five of them—all women, tall and graceful, wearing layered robes that shimmered faintly with cosmic thread.

Their skin was pale gold, eyes luminescent silver or violet, and their movements so fluid they almost seemed to glide rather than walk.

Lara leaned close to Elysia’s ear. "They look like they charge moonlight for breakfast."

Elysia elbowed her.

One of the Celestials, a woman with long hair like braided clouds, stepped forward and bowed elegantly. "Beloved Consort of the Demon Queen," she intoned. "We bring greetings from the High Court of Astralis and the blessings of the Upper Sky."

Elysia rose slowly, her hand resting on her belly, and dipped her head. "The palace welcomes you in peace."

They offered her gifts—incense that sang when lit, crystal cradles carved from starlight stone, celestial lullabies in scroll-form sealed with gold wax. All very ceremonial. All very flattering.

And then, the questions began.

"How has your health been, Your Majesty?"

"Has the child begun to stir at night?"

"Do you dream differently now?"

"Have your cravings leaned toward light or shadow?"

Their tone was always gentle, always smiling but there was more behind their silver eyes. Curiosity. Perhaps even worry.

The union of Demon Queen and Mortal Princess, a child born of two powerful bloodlines—it was enough to shake ancient prophecies loose from their dusty shelves.

"I’ve been well," Elysia replied gracefully, sipping water from her crystal goblet between answers. "The child is healthy. Strong."

The baby kicked.

Very strong.

She pressed a hand to her side, steadying her breath.

One of the Celestials tilted her head, eyes glimmering. "It stirs with your emotions, perhaps?"

Elysia nodded. "It seems to know when I’m uneasy."

The Celestials exchanged glances. Their leader offered a gentle smile. "That is a sign of deep empathy. Many gifted children are attuned to their mother’s state before birth. Your child may be... extraordinary."

Lara, standing behind Elysia’s chair, snorted. "Obviously."

The Celestials blinked in unison. Elysia turned to glare up at her. "Behave."

"I am behaving," Lara muttered. "This is my best behavior."

"You’re terrifying the guests."

One of the Celestials finally laughed a high, melodic sound.

"Forgive us, Lady Lara, but you are rather intimidating. We passed no fewer than fourteen guards and three magical warding circles before reaching this room. And then we arrived... and saw you."

Another added with a mischievous smile, "We did wonder if we’d been invited to a negotiation or an execution."

Elysia couldn’t help it. She laughed. The sound startled even herself.

"Well," she said between chuckles, "Lara is just... protective."

"I would hope so," Lara said, folding her arms with a smirk. "You’re the bearer of the future Demon Heir. I’d turn into a bloodthirsty banshee before letting someone near you with a questionable haircut."

The Celestials laughed again.

The room, once stiff with ceremony, relaxed. They spoke more freely after that—asking about Elysia’s experience in the castle, whether she missed Arvandor’s forests, how she felt about raising a child in a world so often torn between peace and fire.

Elysia answered thoughtfully.

She spoke of her hopes that the child would grow in a realm of balance. That her union with Malvoria would mean more than just strategy that it could be an example.

That she wanted to raise someone kind and strong, someone who would understand both war and love, both discipline and compassion.

The Celestials listened, truly listened, their faces thoughtful and respectful. And just when Elysia thought she might survive the visit without collapsing into a puddle of hormonal exhaustion, Lara struck again.

She leaned forward with her most charming smile—the one that had ruined taverns across three kingdoms—and directed it at the youngest Celestial, a woman with starry freckles across her cheeks and a shy tilt to her posture.

"So," Lara drawled. "Do all Celestials look like carved marble, or is it just you?"

Elysia choked on her drink.

The Celestial blinked. Flushed gold. "I... pardon?"

"I mean," Lara continued, undeterred, "your voice could lull gods to sleep. I’m just saying, if you’re ever tired of astral politics and need someone to admire you professionally, I’m available."

Elysia turned, eyes wide with horror. "Lara!"

"What?" Lara gestured innocently. "I’m being diplomatic."

Elysia smacked her arm.

Hard.

The Celestials were now laughing again though one of them covered her mouth with her sleeve, as if to remain dignified.

The younger one Lara had flirted with seemed both bewildered and flattered.

Elysia sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. "You are incorrigible."

Lara grinned. "And yet, you still keep me around."

"I’m reconsidering that."

The tension in the room had melted entirely now. The Celestials, once veiled in mystery, now felt more like distant cousins than divine emissaries.

And while Elysia was tired, gods, was she tired—she also felt... lighter.

She had handled it.

Without Malvoria. Without Veylira. Without even a script.

The child kicked again, like a tiny fist of encouragement from within.

Yes.

They would protect this child.