I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 111: The Cage of Butterflies

Elysia's breath came slow and measured, though her heart was anything but calm. It pounded against her ribs like a war drum, each beat a frantic, desperate attempt to break free from the cage of her own body.

Her fingers trembled slightly at her sides, barely perceptible, but she forced them into stillness, curling them into tight fists. Control. She needed control.

And yet, Malvoria's words slithered through the air, wrapping around her like invisible chains.

"You're my wife."

Not a question. Not an invitation for debate. Just a statement—calm, confident, unshakable. As if it had always been the truth. As if the universe itself had bent to Malvoria's will, rewriting Elysia's fate before she even had a chance to fight it.

And the worst part?

Malvoria was right.

No matter how much Elysia wanted to argue, to push back, to scream that this wasn't real, the truth had already taken root inside her.

It coiled deep in her bones, nestled within the marrow, an undeniable certainty that made her stomach turn.

She had spoken the vows. She had bound herself to the woman who had razed her kingdom, had set her world ablaze and watched it burn. She had married her enemy, her captor, the woman she was supposed to loathe with every fibre of her being.

Then why—

Why was there a storm inside her?

Why did her stomach twist—not in disgust, not in fear, but in something far, far worse?

Butterflies.

Not the soft, delicate kind that came with simple infatuation, but a wild, frantic swarm, battering against the walls of her chest as though they had just been released from a long-forgotten cage.

They spread their wings, stretching out for the first time, and Elysia felt herself sway under their weight. It was intoxicating. Maddening. Wrong.

No.

She shut her eyes for half a second, dragging in a sharp breath, gripping onto the last fragile threads of her sanity.

She clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms, grounding herself in pain, in reality. She would not let this happen.

She forced the butterflies back, shoved them into the darkness where they belonged. Locked them up, sealed them away.

She refused to acknowledge the lingering heat on her skin where Malvoria had touched her, the ghost of lips and teeth marking her like a brand. Every place the demon queen had kissed, had bitten, had—

Stop.

She belonged to Zera.

Zera, who had stood beside her for years, unwavering, steadfast.

Zera, who had loved her first.

Zera, who—

Who had betrayed her.

Elysia's jaw tightened.

No. Not betrayal. Zera thought she was saving her. That was different. That was something she could forgive.

Wasn't it?

But this?

This dangerous tension between her and Malvoria?

This she could not allow.

"Something on your mind, wife?"

Elysia flinched, her eyes snapping open just as Malvoria smirked down at her.

That damn smirk.

As if she knew.

As if she could see right through Elysia, see the war inside her, see the cracks forming despite how much she tried to keep herself together.

Elysia scowled, gripping the sheets beneath her. "Don't call me that."

Malvoria only chuckled. "Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?"

Elysia gritted her teeth. "It's not the truth I would've chosen."

Malvoria's smirk didn't falter. "But it's the one you have."

Elysia hated how calm she was. How composed, how effortlessly she held control over the situation, over her.

And she hated that part of her—some small, traitorous part—was drawn to it.

Before she could come up with a response, Malvoria moved.

Slowly, deliberately.

Leaning in just enough that their breaths mingled, that Elysia could feel the warmth of her body without actually touching.

A mockery of closeness.

"You can try to ignore it," Malvoria murmured, her voice low, smooth, dangerous. "You can pretend it means nothing, that this is just circumstance, just a mistake—"

Elysia clenched her jaw. "It is—"

Malvoria hummed, ignoring her. "—but tell me—"

Elysia swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.

"—if this is all a mistake," Malvoria continued, voice dipping lower, richer, like silk sliding over steel, "then why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Elysia's entire body tensed.

She wasn't looking at her in any particular way.

She wasn't.

But Malvoria tilted her head slightly, those sharp, silver-gray eyes never once leaving her, studying her like she was something to be figured out.

Something owned.

Something wanted.

Elysia needed to get away.

She twisted, trying to put space between them, but Malvoria's hand shot out, catching her wrist effortlessly.

Too fast.

Too strong.

Elysia sucked in a breath as Malvoria leaned in closer, her voice just above a whisper.

"Tell me to stop."

Elysia froze.

The challenge was clear.

If she told Malvoria to stop, she would.

If she told Malvoria to back away, she would.

That was the worst part of all of this.

Malvoria might be everything she despised, might be cruel, might be infuriating, might be the reason she had lost her kingdom—

But Malvoria had never taken anything from her that she didn't willingly give.

And that—

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That was the most dangerous thing of all.

Elysia's throat bobbed, her fingers twitching beneath Malvoria's grip.

Tell her to stop.

Tell her to let go.

Tell her she felt nothing.

And yet—

Her lips parted—

But the words—

They never came.

Malvoria's smirk deepened, her grip loosening, as if to prove a point.

"As I thought," she murmured.

Elysia snapped.

She ripped her wrist free, shoving Malvoria back with all her strength. "You're insufferable."

Malvoria barely stumbled.

Instead, she let out a low chuckle, her expression unreadable. "And you're stubborn."

Elysia's chest heaved, her emotions a tangled mess, her mind racing to catch up with everything that had just happened.

She needed to think.

She needed space.

"I'm tired," she blurted, turning sharply toward the bed, climbing under the covers as if that would somehow solve this.

Malvoria's smirk lingered, but she didn't argue.

"Then sleep," she said simply, stepping back. "I won't keep you awake tonight."

The implication was clear.

Tonight.

But what about tomorrow?

Elysia swallowed hard, gripping the blankets as she faced away from her.

The room fell into silence.

Malvoria lingered for just a moment longer, then finally turned toward the door.

Elysia didn't dare look back.

She listened to the sound of the door opening, the soft creak of the hinges, the quiet footsteps as Malvoria walked away.

And then, as the door clicked shut behind her—

Elysia exhaled, the weight of the night finally settling on her shoulders.

She had won that conversation, hadn't she?

Then why did it still feel like Malvoria had come out victorious?