I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 332: A little fight

The castle had fallen into one of those rare, shimmering lulls: no thunder of feet, no wails, no shrieks of fire or magic or chaos.

Just a shaft of late sunlight spilling through high windows, catching the tiny black horns of Aliyah as she slumbered peacefully, cheek pillowed against Malvoria’s broad shoulder.

The child’s breath was a faint, rhythmic whisper—warm, soft, impossibly fragile for a half-demon.

Malvoria sat as still as a statue, only daring to breathe when Aliyah did. She could have watched her niece sleep for hours.

But with every minute of this hard-won peace, an itch began to crawl between Malvoria’s shoulder blades, growing steadily, inevitably, into outright boredom.

Her mind was built for motion, for tension, for command; a nap, even for so noble a cause as babysitting, was always torture.

A muted thump echoed from the adjoining chamber. Then again, louder: thump, thump—like someone pummeling a training dummy with far too much enthusiasm.

Malvoria’s eyes narrowed. She rose carefully, lowering Aliyah into her crib, and padded through the door. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Lara was in the middle of the room, stripped to her undershirt, her hair coming loose from its braid, punching a battered leather ball suspended from the ceiling.

Each strike made the whole contraption creak and sway. Sweat glistened on Lara’s arms; her face was flushed and intent.

Malvoria leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms. "You’re going to wear that thing out, you know."

Lara landed a left hook, followed by a sharp elbow. The ball shuddered on its chain. "At least it’s not the walls. Or the guards. Or, gods help us, the Celestian Queen."

Malvoria snorted. "If it ever comes to that, call me. I’d pay to see it."

Lara glanced over, a smile twitching at her mouth. "You’re restless."

"Bored." Malvoria shrugged. "I didn’t think a day without Kaelith could feel so long. Or so... quiet."

Lara’s grin widened. "Want to spar? Old times’ sake?"

Malvoria blinked. She hadn’t truly fought Lara hand to hand, no magic, no weapons since they were both teens.

Lara was bigger, broader through the shoulders and chest, with a boxer’s stance and the kind of brawler’s confidence that could not be faked.

But Malvoria, well... Malvoria was Malvoria: lean, fast, and terrifyingly efficient.

"Fine," Malvoria said, stretching her neck from side to side. "But only if you promise not to cry when you lose."

Lara rolled her eyes. "The only one crying will be you when you realize these muscles aren’t just for show."

Malvoria slipped off her coat and boots, bare feet flexing on the thick carpet. She circled Lara, eyes narrow and calculating, lips curled in a dangerous smile. "First to three takedowns?"

"Agreed. And no fire, no horns, no shadow-stepping," Lara said, wagging a finger. "Just fists."

Malvoria gave a mocking salute. "Wouldn’t dream of it, big sister."

They squared off. For a long moment, neither moved both reading, remembering, searching for the old rhythms and tells.

The castle seemed to shrink around them, the years peeling away. They were sisters, but in this moment, competitors first.

Lara struck first, her right fist flashing out in a jab that Malvoria barely dodged. She grinned, ducked, then feinted left.

Lara caught the feint, pivoted, and aimed a kick at Malvoria’s hip. Malvoria caught her ankle, twisting, and Lara went with the motion, turning it into a spinning backfist.

Malvoria dodged by a hair’s breadth, feeling the rush of air against her cheek.

"You’ve gotten faster," Lara said, circling. "Too much time fighting mortals?"

Malvoria laughed, breathless already, adrenaline flooding her veins. "I spend my days keeping up with Kaelith. You think you’re a challenge?"

They clashed again, this time more recklessly. Malvoria shot forward, aiming for Lara’s midsection, but Lara anticipated her, blocking with a forearm and shoving her back.

Malvoria stumbled, caught herself, and lunged again, this time feinting high before sweeping low, trying to trip Lara. Lara saw it coming and hopped over, grinning wide.

"Getting old, Mal?"

"I’ll show you old," Malvoria growled, and tackled her sister around the waist. They crashed to the floor, rolling, each trying to gain the upper hand.

Malvoria’s grip was iron, but Lara’s weight was a serious advantage. In the tangle, Lara managed to pin Malvoria’s shoulder, slamming her gently to the carpet.

"One," Lara declared, triumphant.

Malvoria rolled her eyes, bucked her hips, and flipped Lara off, reversing their positions with a surprising burst of speed. She locked her legs around Lara’s torso, squeezing until her sister yelped.

"Dirty move!" Lara protested, laughing.

"Works, doesn’t it?" Malvoria hissed, grinning. "One-one."

They broke apart, both breathing hard, chests heaving, sweat streaking their faces. Their eyes sparkled with competitive fire and a flicker of nostalgia.

Lara came at her next, fists flying. Malvoria parried, ducked, but Lara managed to get a solid jab to her ribs.

Malvoria grunted, then snaked a hand under Lara’s arm and flipped her onto her back again.

But Lara, impossibly flexible, locked her ankles around Malvoria’s neck and twisted, sending both of them rolling across the room.

Malvoria burst out laughing as she untangled herself. "You really missed your calling as a wrestler, you know."

Lara smirked, flipping her hair back. "If ruling gets dull, I’ll consider it."

They circled, grinning. This was old magic—sibling rivalry at its purest, all sting and no poison.

Malvoria darted forward, landed a glancing blow to Lara’s shoulder, then danced away before Lara could retaliate. Lara charged, nearly catching Malvoria off guard, but Malvoria spun aside and sent Lara careening into the edge of a velvet settee.

"Two-one, my lead," Malvoria panted, bouncing on her toes.

"You’re lighter than I remember," Lara said, catching her breath. "Did motherhood make you soft?"

Malvoria flashed her teeth. "It made me mean."

This time, Lara came in low, grabbing for Malvoria’s knees. Malvoria kicked out, but Lara caught her ankle and yanked, sending her sprawling. Before Malvoria could recover, Lara dropped onto her, pinning both shoulders.

"Two-two," Lara crowed.

Malvoria lay there a moment, staring up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. "I let you have that one."

"Of course you did." Lara’s grin was savage.

They both rolled to their feet, panting, hair wild. Sweat slicked their faces and arms. The air buzzed with challenge, but also something lighter, a joy that came from knowing someone so well that you could fight them with your whole heart and never risk losing them.

"Final round?" Malvoria said.

"Bring it, little sister."

They lunged at each other, laughter echoing off the walls. This time, the fight was a blur—Malvoria’s speed against Lara’s brute strength, elbows and knees, grapples and sudden twists.

They rolled across the room, knocking over a stool, bumping into Aliyah’s crib (which, miraculously, didn’t even wobble), both refusing to yield.

Lara almost had her weight pinning Malvoria’s leg, one arm hooked around Malvoria’s neck but Malvoria wriggled, levered herself up, and threw Lara off with a triumphant cry. She straddled Lara, pinning her wrists.

"I win," Malvoria declared, flushed and breathless, her hair sticking to her forehead.

Lara looked up, smirking, but before she could retort, a shrill wail split the air.

Both sisters froze.

Aliyah, disturbed by the commotion or perhaps simply sensing that peace had been broken, let loose with a cry that could have woken the dead. Her tiny fists waved in the air, her red eyes wide and accusing.

Malvoria slid off Lara, scrambling to her feet. "Now look what you’ve done."

"You started it," Lara muttered, pushing herself upright, massaging a bruised elbow.

Together, they rushed to the crib, where Aliyah’s face was screwed up in full drama. Malvoria reached in first, scooping her up and cradling her close, whispering nonsense and bouncing her gently.

"There, there, little one. It’s just your mother and aunt acting like children."

Aliyah wailed louder, her little fists grabbing at Malvoria’s collar. Lara snatched a soft toy from the table—a stuffed bat, its wings patched and chewed—and waggled it in front of her daughter’s face.

The wails eased into hiccupping snuffles.

Malvoria shot Lara a look. "I think she’s on your side."

"Of course she is. She’s got taste," Lara replied, grinning as she brushed sweat-soaked hair off her forehead.

For a moment, the three of them stood together: Malvoria, still flushed and fierce from the fight; Lara, her chest heaving, pride and exhaustion warring in her eyes; and Aliyah, slowly calming, her fingers fisting in Malvoria’s shirt as if she might hold on forever.

Malvoria kissed Aliyah’s brow, feeling her own heart slow. "You know, I think this is the most excitement we’ve had all day."

Lara leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Aliyah’s head. "Remind me never to challenge you again."

Malvoria smirked. "Too late. But next time, let’s try it with magic. Just for fun."

Lara rolled her eyes. "Let’s wait until Aliyah’s old enough to cheer for her mother."

Aliyah gave a little coo, her eyes finally fluttering shut, exhausted by her own storm of outrage.

The peace that followed was different—softer, sweeter. Malvoria rocked her niece, glancing sideways at Lara, who had collapsed onto the nearest settee, one leg hanging over the side.

"You know," Malvoria said, "we’re not so different, you and I."

Lara laughed, low and warm. "That’s what scares me."

Malvoria’s lips curled in a smile. "Good. It should."