I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 217: Where are you wife ?

Elysia was bored.

Painfully, soul-scratchingly, about-to-set-things-on-fire bored.

She paced the length of her chambers for what had to be the hundredth time that morning, one hand resting lightly on her round belly, the other twitching with magic she was not supposed to use unless necessary.

The magic dampeners in the room hummed faintly above her, working overtime just to keep up with her nerves.

Where the hells was Malvoria?

Elysia had woken up alone. Again. A folded note on the pillow, a tray of fresh strawberries on the nightstand, a pair of warm slippers enchanted to float slightly so she wouldn’t trip and yet no Malvoria.

She glared at the strawberries like they were to blame.

"I’m not eating you. You’re a bribe."

The berries, of course, did not respond.

Fuming, Elysia waddled toward the door and flung it open with far more dramatic flair than was strictly necessary. A startled guard straightened immediately, hand going to the hilt of his sword.

"I’m going out," she announced.

"Your Majesty, do you require an escort?"

"No. Wait. Yes. I don’t know—maybe just follow me silently and don’t breathe too loud."

The guards exchanged glances but obeyed, falling into step behind her as she stormed (waddled) down the hallway in her soft lavender robe, her bare feet padding on warm marble. A maid carrying linens nearly dropped them when she saw her.

"Your Majesty! Are you—? Shouldn’t you be—?"

"Breathing? Alive? Yes, I’m doing both. Have you seen my wife?"

"Queen Malvoria?" the maid stammered. "She’s not in her study?"

Elysia had already passed her. "No."

She checked the gardens, nothing.

The war room was empty.

The west tower balcony where Malvoria sometimes brooded dramatically—deserted.

At one point, she poked her head into a strategy meeting room filled with generals. They all stood so fast she thought one of them might faint.

"Nope," she muttered, retreating.

She turned corners at random now, her hair escaping the braid one of the maids had fussed over this morning, her expression equal parts determination and regal dismay.

Somewhere along the way, her guards picked up another pair of guards, and then two more maids tagged along holding fans and anxiety.

"You know," she said to no one in particular, "I’m pregnant. I glow. How is she hiding from me?"

"Maybe she’s not hiding, Your Majesty," one maid offered cautiously. "Maybe she’s... occupied?"

"With what? Summoning a demon? I am the demon queen’s wife. What could be more important than me?"

The silence was telling.

And a little damning.

Finally, Elysia slowed. Her feet were starting to ache, and her belly felt heavier than usual. Her flames, for once, were calm. Maybe because she was determined.

Or maybe because the child inside her had decided to take pity on her dramatics and go easy today.

She paused in front of a closed door she didn’t recognize not a grand hallway, just a side passage near the east wing where old supply rooms and quiet offices usually sat undisturbed.

And then... she heard her wife’s voice.

Low. Frustrated.

"I swear to the ancestors, if I bend this beam one more time—"

Elysia frowned.

She moved closer.

There was a clank, followed by what sounded like wood shattering. Someone swore. Another voice Veylira’s, amused and condescending in equal measure drifted through the crack in the doorway.

"Oh dear. Is this the fourth or fifth nail you’ve dropped in a row?"

"It was part of my process," Malvoria gritted out.

Elysia slowly pushed the door open.

And stopped.

There, in the center of the room, was Malvoria sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled, a thin streak of sawdust across her cheek, kneeling beside what looked like the remains of a half-finished cradle.

Beside her, Veylira stood holding a measuring scroll, while three carpenters quietly tried not to laugh as they helped rearrange the misaligned frame.

Elysia blinked.

Her heart did something strange and warm.

Malvoria hadn’t been hiding from her.

She’d been building.

And for some reason, the idea of this tall, terrifying, fire-wielding queen wrestling with furniture for their child made her want to both cry and tackle her in kisses.

She leaned against the doorframe, a small, soft smile curling her lips.

"You’re not very good at this," she said, loud enough to make the whole room freeze.

Malvoria’s head snapped up. Her expression of pure guilt was nearly comical.

"...I can explain."

Malvoria looked like a criminal caught mid-heist, frozen with one knee in sawdust and a crooked beam balanced precariously in her hands.

Veylira raised an eyebrow and said absolutely nothing, which only made it worse.

Elysia took a step inside, then another, the guards and maids behind her peeking in curiously.

One of the maids gasped at the mess, and another let out a stifled laugh that quickly turned into a cough when Malvoria turned her glare in their direction.

"You were supposed to be resting," Malvoria said, setting down the beam with a thud and brushing her hands off on her shirt. "I was going to surprise you."

"Oh, you surprised me all right," Elysia said, looking around at the chaotic pile of bent nails, uneven wood, and at least two broken hammers. "Is that... was that a leg?"

"It was supposed to be part of the base," Malvoria muttered. "The blueprints lied."

"They were your blueprints," Veylira pointed out unhelpfully.

Elysia bit her lip to keep from laughing. "So, what you’re saying is that this masterpiece was made entirely by your own royal hands?"

Malvoria crossed her arms. "It’s harder than it looks."

"Oh, I can tell. This looks like it was cursed by at least three disgruntled carpenters and a minor god of chaos."

One of the craftsmen in the back snorted, earning a deadly glare from Malvoria.

Veylira stepped aside with a dramatic sweep of her arm. "Your wife has been very determined. And equally destructive."

"I was trying to build a memory," Malvoria grumbled, "and maybe a functional cradle. But apparently the universe hates sentiment."

Elysia stepped closer and picked up a carved plank. It was sanded unevenly, the edge crooked—but in the center, there was a sigil. Two small flames curling around each other, and a single star in the center.

"Oh." Her voice caught slightly. "You carved this?"

"I wanted it to be something just for them. Something from me," Malvoria said, suddenly looking a little sheepish.

Elysia’s expression softened, her heart melting completely.

She walked over, brushing the sawdust from Malvoria’s chest and resting her head lightly against her shoulder. "Then let’s make it together."

Malvoria blinked. "What?"

Elysia turned to the confused carpenters, who were awkwardly pretending they hadn’t been watching this entire display with hearts in their eyes.

"You heard her," she said. "Let’s choose together."