I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 105: A difficult awakening

Malvoria woke up to an unfamiliar warmth pressed against her side. It was subtle at first, the slow realization creeping in as she blinked herself into consciousness.

The room was dimly lit, the first rays of morning filtering in through the heavy curtains. The air was still, the quiet of dawn settling over the castle like a well-worn cloak. For a moment, Malvoria allowed herself to bask in the rare tranquility.

And then she noticed it.

The weight against her chest. The slow, rhythmic breaths against her collarbone. The distinct, unmistakable scent of Elysia.

Malvoria's entire body tensed.

Very slowly, very carefully, she lowered her gaze.

Elysia was curled against her, one arm draped lazily over Malvoria's waist, her silver hair a tangled mess as it sprawled across the dark sheets. Her face was nestled against Malvoria's shoulder, her lips slightly parted in sleep, her breathing soft and even.

It was...

Malvoria swallowed.

Fine. This was fine. Completely fine.

She just had to get up without waking her.

Should be simple enough.

Malvoria carefully attempted to shift her arm, the one currently pinned beneath Elysia's weight. It was a slow, calculated movement—

Until Elysia made a small noise and tightened her grip.

Malvoria froze.

Was she... holding on tighter?

No. No, absolutely not. This wasn't happening. Malvoria was the Demon Queen, the most powerful force in this realm. She had crushed empires, commanded armies, conquered entire civilizations.

She was not about to be defeated by a sleepy Elysia and an awkward sleeping position.

Steeling herself, she tried again, this time attempting to slide out from beneath Elysia in one smooth motion.

It did not go smoothly.

The moment she moved, Elysia sighed softly in her sleep and—

Oh, hells.

She nuzzled closer.

Malvoria nearly had a full existential crisis.

What was she supposed to do? Shake her off? That would wake her up, and then there'd be questions—questions Malvoria didn't want to answer.

She weighed her options. If she tried rolling to the side, there was a fifty-percent chance she'd end up flipping them both onto the floor.

If she tried peeling Elysia's arm off of her, the princess might wake up, and Malvoria had no intention of enduring whatever smug remarks would come from that.

Her reputation was at stake here.

This was war.

After a moment of careful consideration, she decided on the least humiliating option: the classic, slow-and-steady extraction method.

Like a thief in the night, Malvoria began inching her way free, pausing every time Elysia so much as shifted. One slow movement at a time. She could do this. She could—

Elysia let out a sleepy murmur and burrowed further into Malvoria's side.

Malvoria bit back a groan.

At this rate, she was going to be stuck here forever.

Summoning every ounce of patience she had, she finally managed to shift Elysia's arm just enough to slip free. The moment she was out, she rolled off the bed with the grace of a trained assassin, landing in a crouch before straightening up.

Success.

She quickly composed herself, standing tall as if she had not just spent the last ten minutes engaging in a battle of wills with a sleeping woman.

Now. To the bath.

Malvoria stepped into her private bathing chamber, sighing in relief as she shut the heavy doors behind her. The tension from her earlier struggle melted slightly at the sight of the steaming water, the scent of lavender and sandalwood filling the air.

She peeled off her nightclothes and sank into the warm bath, exhaling slowly as the heat eased the tension in her muscles. It was a rare moment of peace—one she was sure wouldn't last.

And she was right.

Because the moment she closed her eyes, she heard the unmistakable creak of a door being pushed open.

Malvoria's eyes snapped open.

A maid stood frozen at the entrance, a towel in her hands, her face rapidly turning red as she realized she had just walked in on the Demon Queen mid-bath.

There was a long, painful pause.

Malvoria arched a brow. "Are you just going to stand there?"

The maid let out a strangled squeak before bowing so quickly she nearly lost balance. "My deepest apologies, Your Majesty! I—I just came to prepare your things for the morning—"

Malvoria sighed, rubbing her temple. "Get out."

The maid fled faster than Malvoria thought was humanly possible.

With another exhale, Malvoria sank back into the water, closing her eyes again.

This was not how she wanted to start her morning.

After finishing her bath and dressing herself in her underclothes, Malvoria moved toward her wardrobe, retrieving her captain's coat. Today was an important meeting regarding the rebels, and she had no patience for half-measures.

She pulled on her high-collared, black and crimson coat, fastening the gold clasps with practiced ease. The fabric was tailored to perfection, fitting snugly over her frame, the sigil of her reign embroidered in silver along the cuffs.

Next came her belt, her favored sword secured at her hip. She adjusted the gloves at her wrists, the polished black leather fitting like a second skin. Finally, she strapped on the deep red cloak—one that flowed like liquid shadow behind her as she moved.

A final glance in the mirror.

Regal. Commanding. A queen who could—and would—crush her enemies beneath her boot.

Perfect.

She turned sharply on her heel and strode toward the door.

Time to remind the rebels why they feared her name.

---

The war room was already filled with tension by the time Malvoria arrived.

A long, rectangular table dominated the chamber, its dark mahogany surface illuminated by the flickering glow of enchanted sconces lining the walls.

High-ranking officers stood at attention, their sharp gazes turning toward her the moment she strode in. Some looked expectant. Others wary.

They should be.

Malvoria did not slow her pace. She moved with the measured precision of a ruler who knew she held absolute power in this room.

Her crimson cloak billowed slightly as she reached her seat at the head of the table, her gloved hands resting on the polished wood.

"Report," she commanded.

General Varek, a towering demon with scars tracing his jaw, cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, our scouts have confirmed rebel activity increasing in the southern territories. They have been moving supplies through hidden trade routes—likely stockpiling weapons."

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Malvoria arched a brow. "And you only just discovered this?"

Varek hesitated. "They have grown more cautious since our last crackdown. It has been difficult to track their movements."

Malvoria exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping once against the table. "Excuses do not interest me, General. Results do."

The room tensed. Even those not directly involved in the scouting effort seemed to stiffen at the cold edge to her tone.

Another officer, Captain Relion, spoke up. "We have identified several key figures within the rebellion. One in particular—Seren Val'ir—appears to be a central leader. She's been rallying support, promising protection to those who oppose the crown."

Malvoria's gaze darkened. "Promising protection?" she echoed. "How bold of her."

"More reckless than bold," Relion corrected. "Our spies indicate she's gathering forces in the west, near the canyon strongholds. If she is truly organizing resistance, then she is their weak link."

Malvoria leaned back slightly, considering.

The rebels were growing bolder. That much was clear. The question was whether this new leader, Seren, was a fool or a real threat.

If she was a fool, Malvoria would crush her before she could become a problem.

If she was a threat, then... Malvoria would crush her all the same—just more thoroughly.

Her lips curled into a slow, calculated smirk. "Then we send a message," she murmured. "A very clear one."

A hush fell over the table.

"Your orders, Your Majesty?" Varek asked carefully.

Malvoria's fingers trailed idly along the silver embroidery of her sleeve. "We let them believe they are safe," she said smoothly. "We let them continue their little rebellion, let them think they are making progress."

She met Varek's eyes, her own gaze sharp. "And then we take everything from them in one decisive strike."

The tension in the room shifted. A few officers exchanged glances, but no one questioned her.

They knew better.

Captain Relion nodded. "We will begin preparations immediately."

"See that you do," Malvoria said, rising from her seat. "I want regular updates. And if Seren Val'ir makes so much as one wrong move—" She smiled, slow and cruel. "I want her brought to me alive."

The meeting was dismissed soon after, the officers swiftly moving to carry out her orders.

As Malvoria exited the chamber, her mind remained fixed on the strategy ahead. The rebels were a nuisance, but nothing she couldn't handle.

She had crushed greater threats before.

And she would do it again.

But as she stepped into the hallway, her thoughts drifted—unexpectedly—to something else.

Not to war.

Not to rebels.

To the lingering warmth that had been pressed against her earlier that morning.

To the way Elysia had instinctively reached for her, even in sleep.

Malvoria frowned to herself, shaking the thought away.

This was not the time for distractions.

There was a rebellion to end.

And she would not be caught off guard.

Not by an enemy.

And certainly not by the woman currently tangled in her thoughts.