I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 219: Side - : Lara the player

Lara arrived at the palace briefing with the grace of a tornado entering a glass factory—late, disheveled, and still chewing something suspiciously sweet.

The room was already half-full. Advisors, commanders, and noble aides stiffened when the door swung open and banged against the stone wall.

Malvoria didn’t even look up from her seat at the head of the obsidian table.

"Lara," she said flatly, "nice of you to join us."

Lara flopped into an empty chair with a loud sigh. "I had to finish a report."

"You were in the gardens harassing the sword trainers," Malvoria replied without missing a beat.

"I call that delegation of authority," Lara grinned.

"You’re being sent on a diplomatic delegation," Malvoria snapped, lifting her gaze now, dark eyes narrowed in that specific way that said "I love you but I will stab you."

Lara groaned. "Not the Celestials again. All they ever say is blablabla power of light, blablabla bonds of peace. Do I have to? It’s all singing and sparkle-drenched wine and speeches longer than my sword."

"They supported us after the rebel attacks," Malvoria said. "And their healing magic helped stabilize the southern district. You’re going. You’ll stay three days. You’ll be polite."

Lara threw her head back with an overdramatic wail. "Three days?! I’ll die of radiant joy!"

"Behave," Malvoria warned. "No flirting. No vanishing mid-dinner. And definitely no spontaneous duels in the garden."

Lara blinked. "That happened once."

"And it nearly started a holy war."

"I won!"

"That’s not the point."

As the meeting wrapped up, Lara stood and stretched, already thinking of the long trip ahead. Boring diplomacy. Endless toasts. Too many robes.

At least, she mused as she walked toward her chambers, maybe she’d get to flirt with someone interesting.

"Please," she muttered, opening her wardrobe and tossing things into her travel bag. "Let there be someone tall, beautiful, and entirely uninterested in virtue."

She threw in three different sets of armor, a slinky dress she’d never admit to owning, and a pouch of enchanted lip balm. She paused, then added a dagger.

Just in case things got really boring.

The Celestial Palace was, unfortunately, even more radiant than she remembered.

Floating staircases wove through towers of marble and crystal. Flowers bloomed on vines that sparkled like starlight. Everything smelled like silver and citrus and something painfully pure.

She was, naturally, three hours late.

The welcome banquet was already in full swing when she swaggered into the opalescent hall, her boots loud against the polished floor, her cloak fluttering behind her like a banner of rogue confidence.

The Celestials didn’t even flinch.

Too polite for their own good.

They turned, offered pleasant bows and serene smiles, and acted as if she hadn’t just barged into a royal reception with a smug grin and a slight smell of firewood.

She spotted a large table of food.

Blessed be the stars.

Lara made a beeline for it, plucking a silver goblet from a tray and filling it with something that sparkled like moonlight in liquid form.

She was halfway through a bite of honeyed fruit when she felt it.

A gaze.

Not polite.

Not smiling.

Curious.

Intense.

She turned.

Across the hall, near a column wrapped in celestial banners, stood a woman who looked like she’d walked straight out of a high fantasy fever dream.

Tall, elegant. Moonlight hair cascading down her back in waves. Golden tattoos curled like constellations around her arms, glowing faintly. And her eyes—gods, those eyes. One silver. One a piercing aqua that seemed to see everything.

She wore a diplomat’s attire, flowing and dignified, but her posture was all steel beneath silk.

Their eyes met.

Lara raised her glass in lazy greeting.

The woman arched a single brow.

Well. Hello.

Lara started walking, weaving between guests like a shark with a very specific target. Every step was confident, slow, and calculated to show off the curve of her smirk.

"Lovely evening," she said as she reached her. "Unless you’ve been standing here waiting for me. In which case, my apologies for the delay—good beauty takes time."

The woman stared at her.

Lara waited.

The woman blinked, and her lips curved into something not quite a smile.

"That was terrible."

Lara coughed into her cup. "Pardon?"

"You’re late. You smell like smoke. You’re drinking from the ceremonial fountain wine without asking. And that line?" She tilted her head. "Truly awful."

Lara put a hand on her chest. "You wound me."

"Not yet," the woman replied coolly, "but the night is young."

Lara stared.

Then she grinned.

"I like you."

The woman didn’t move. "That’s unfortunate."

Lara’s heart thundered like it hadn’t in years.

"What’s your name?" Lara asked, voice low and playful, eyes gleaming with mischief.

The woman didn’t answer.

She simply sipped from her goblet, gaze steady on Lara’s face as if weighing her worth, or perhaps judging her very soul.

Lara tilted her head, her signature smirk stretching wider. "Ah, a mystery woman. Dangerous. I like that."

Still no answer.

Lara leaned against the marble pillar beside her, arms crossed, posture relaxed. "You strike me as someone with a name that sounds expensive. Something elegant. Regal."

The woman raised an unimpressed brow, but Lara was undeterred.

"Let me guess. Selveria? No, too obvious. Araleen? Hmm, too poetic. Wait—wait, don’t tell me. Moonbriar?"

That earned the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Not quite a smile. But close enough to call a victory.

"Still not telling me?" Lara sighed dramatically. "You’re killing me. Here I am, trying to make an honest connection, and you—stone-faced, gorgeous, and cruel—refuse me even a syllable."

The woman set her glass down on a nearby tray. "You seem to enjoy chasing what you can’t catch."

"Oh, I don’t need to catch it," Lara said with a wink. "I just need it to run in the same direction for a while."

This time, the ghost of amusement actually shimmered in the woman’s mismatched eyes. "Charming. In an insufferable way."

"I’ve been called worse." Lara leaned closer. "But you haven’t denied that you find me charming."

"Because I prefer not to lie."

That did it. Lara laughed—genuine, low, delighted. "I knew you were trouble the moment you looked at me."

The woman took a step forward, brushing past her slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "You still don’t know who I am, do you?"

Lara followed without hesitation. "Should I?"

"I’d think so. Considering the number of guards keeping an eye on me."

Lara looked around. There were indeed two Celestial guards lingering within earshot, their stances alert but respectful.

"You a noble, then? A high diplomat? Ambassador?" Lara grinned. "A temptress sent to seduce me into a political trap?" ƒreewebɳovel.com

"No," said a new voice—clear, commanding, and ringing across the banquet hall like a temple bell.

Lara turned.

There, striding across the polished floor in a gown of flowing moonlight silk, was the Queen of the Celestial High Courts.

Hair pale as starlight, a diadem glittering with constellations on her brow, and presence like the sun rising after a long night. Even Lara, queen of chaos, stood up straighter.

"Daughter," the queen said, eyes landing firmly on the woman Lara had been flirting with. "You wandered off."

Lara blinked. Once. Twice.

Then looked back at the woman, who now looked far too satisfied.

"You’ve been flirting with me for ten minutes," the woman said calmly, "and didn’t realize I’m the Crown Princess of the Celestial Courts."

Lara’s lips parted. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

The princess smiled—finally, fully. "I never joke."

The Queen joined them, regal and poised. "Captain Lara, I trust you’re enjoying your welcome."

"Immensely," Lara croaked, recovering quickly with a bow and a painfully awkward smile.

The Queen nodded graciously. "Then I shall leave you to it. Serisa, do not torment our guests too much."

"I make no promises," the princess—Serisa—said sweetly.

Lara watched as the queen glided away, leaving a trail of star-blessed elegance in her wake.

Then turned back to Serisa.

"Crown. Princess," she repeated under her breath.

Serisa sipped her wine again, utterly serene.

"Fuck it," Lara muttered.