I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 228: My water just broke

It had been two peaceful weeks since the cradle was finished. The cake had been eaten, laughter had echoed through the halls, and even the maids had declared the day as the "softest" they’d ever seen the Queen.

But now, in the bright light of the grand dining room, with silver cutlery glinting on the long table and a massive floral centerpiece between Elysia and the chaos brewing at the other end, peace had officially died.

Because Malvoria was one second away from leaping over the table and strangling her sister.

Elysia sat very still, one hand lightly resting on her stomach, the other holding a delicate porcelain teacup as if it were the only thing anchoring her to sanity.

Across from her, Malvoria radiated fury. Her black-gloved fingers were drumming on the table so fast they blurred.

Her lips, perfectly painted this morning, were now curled back in what could only be described as "royally homicidal disapproval." The veins in her neck stood out in sharp relief.

In front of her, lay the report.

The report.

Elysia had not read it. She had only seen the look on Malvoria’s face when it arrived, and that had been enough to make her lose interest in knowing its contents. Curiosity? Gone. Replaced by survival instinct.

"You can’t be serious," Malvoria growled, teeth clenched.

"Listen—" Lara began.

"No. No listening. You—you diplomatic arsonist. You woman-shaped disaster." Malvoria grabbed the report again, waving it like a royal fan of rage.

"’Captain Lara Daemara arrived late, flirted shamelessly with every court lady, including one nun; interrupted a funeral procession because she got lost and wanted directions; and slept with Crown Princess Serisa of the Celestial Courts—tainting her reputation, possibly offending the Celestial Queen, and causing a four-hour closed council to determine if an inter-realm scandal had occurred.’" Malvoria’s voice rose with each line.

Elysia coughed into her teacup.

"I didn’t interrupt the funeral," Lara defended. "I just...asked for directions. Politely. The widow was very helpful."

"You flirted with a nun, Lara!"

"She looked like she needed cheering up."

"She took a vow!"

"Well, not one about laughing!"

Elysia blinked. The baby shifted inside her, as if it, too, was leaning forward to listen.

"Also," Lara continued, grinning in that way that meant she was deeply unrepentant, "Serisa didn’t exactly say no."

"Lara," Malvoria growled, dragging a hand down her face, "do you realize how many strings I had to pull to get you on that diplomatic mission?"

"I didn’t ask to go! You shoved me onto a teleportation circle with two sandwiches and told me to behave!"

"You were supposed thank first and second they asked you to protect the princess—"

"And I did!" Lara shot back, arms wide. "Look at her! Very safe. Very naked. Well—not now. But you know what I mean."

Elysia’s hand slowly slid to her forehead.

That’s when Veylira, thank all the realms, cleared her throat.

"We have a pregnant woman here," she said dryly, gesturing toward Elysia, who was now on her second cup of tea and contemplating a third.

"Let’s not raise her blood pressure with tales of royal debauchery before breakfast."

"Too late," Elysia murmured.

Veylira turned toward her daughter. "Malvoria. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale."

Malvoria looked like she might exhale fire.

"I don’t even know where to begin. You could have caused a war!"

"It was just sex!"

"It was a princess!"

"She asked me—!"

"Enough!" boomed a new voice.

All heads turned toward the entrance.

There stood Grand Empress Saelira.

Black hair swept into a battle braid. Deep navy robes embroidered with stars. Piercing grey eyes—the exact same as Malvoria’s, and currently narrowed in delighted chaos.

She strode in like a general on parade, scooped up a slice of fruit tart from the side table, and took a bite as she perched beside Elysia like she’d always belonged there.

"I’ve read the report," Saelira said between bites. "Deliciously embarrassing."

"Grandmother—"

"I mean, I’ve done worse," she added cheerfully. "But back then it was only scribbled on papyrus and no one really cared."

"I am begging you not to encourage her."

"She doesn’t need encouragement. She needs marriage."

There was a beat of silence.

Elysia blinked.

Malvoria froze.

Lara blinked, then raised one eyebrow.

Saelira smirked. "To please them, let’s just marry Lara off to the Celestial Princess. Problem solved."

"I—wait what?" Lara coughed on her own breath.

Malvoria’s jaw dropped. "You want to marry her off to the woman she defiled?!"

"Defile is such a dramatic word."

"She defiled a crown princess!"

"She dated her for four hours!" Veylira added.

"I didn’t even know she was a princess!" Lara protested.

"She had a tiara!"

"I thought it was fashion!"

Elysia clutched her teacup like it was the last stable thing in her universe.

"I am not marrying anyone," Lara declared. "I am allergic to commitment."

"You’re allergic to responsibility," Malvoria muttered.

Saelira leaned forward. "Listen, sweetheart, it’s a win-win. You get a hot wife—"

"She hates me!"

"—and we get political stability. You’ll be a princess-consort. You’ll have guards. Luxury. Silk robes."

"I don’t wear silk!"

"Velvet, then. Whatever."

"Mother, stop encouraging her," Veylira said flatly.

"I’m just offering options!"

Elysia finally set her teacup down.

"Well," she said brightly. "That escalated."

"Everything does with this family," Malvoria muttered, rubbing her temple.

Elysia reached for her hand under the table, giving it a light squeeze.

Malvoria looked at her and sighed, deflating just a little. "Sorry, love. You deserve a peaceful breakfast."

"This is peaceful," Elysia said with a small smile. "No one’s been stabbed."

"Yet," Malvoria added darkly.

Lara leaned back in her chair, grinning like a smug cat. "I feel like you’re all missing the point. I had a very good night."

"You are not helping your case."

"Isn’t that what big sisters are for?" Lara repeated smugly, resting her boots on the edge of the table like she hadn’t just suggested her own exile via accidental marriage.

Malvoria lunged across the table not with claws or a sword, but with the fury of an older sibling pushed to her limit.

Elysia watched in stunned amusement as her wife grabbed Lara’s boot and yanked, sending the demon captain lurching sideways with a very ungraceful thud and a yelp that echoed through the dining hall.

"You maniac!" Malvoria snapped. "You’re going to get me banished!"

"You’re the one who pulled the damn chair out from under me!" Lara barked, sprawled half-under the table, cape tangled around her legs.

"I warned you!"

"You didn’t warn—Ow! You stepped on my hand!"

"You deserve worse!"

Veylira didn’t even flinch. She calmly sipped her wine, one brow raised. "This is what happens when the bloodline is too powerful. We should’ve bred with quieter nobles."

Saelira chuckled around a bite of cherry tart. "Oh no, this is perfect. Let them fight it out. Builds character."

"I hate all of you," Malvoria hissed, trying to wrangle her sister’s boot from the mess of crushed napkins.

Lara popped up again, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. "Honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had since the nun flirted back."

Malvoria froze. "She WHAT?"

The maids gasped.

Even the guard by the door choked on his own breath.

"Let me go find that vow," Veylira muttered, standing.

Saelira wiped a tear from her eye. "I can’t wait to tell Serisa that you almost fucked a harlot with a god complex."

"EXCUSE ME—"

Elysia tried to laugh. She really did. But her stomach tightened again—this time not with amusement.

A strange pressure curled down her spine. Her body went suddenly still, a ripple of heat and discomfort shooting through her.

The world blurred for a second, just a second and then her breath caught.

There was warmth.

Wet warmth.

A strange sensation bloomed low in her abdomen. She blinked. Her heartbeat stuttered.

Her hands instinctively found her belly.

Everything in the room kept going—more yelling, more laughter, Lara trying to climb onto the table for some dramatic rebuttal. But to Elysia, the world had narrowed. Her senses tunneled to her body. Her child.

Pressure.

Heat.

A sudden hush in her soul.

"I..." she whispered, eyes wide.

She looked at Malvoria, whose hair was halfway in a bread basket, and then down at the floor beneath her chair where a suspicious puddle was forming.

"I think," she said slowly, voice cracking just a little, "my water just broke."

And silence, at last, fell.