I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 335: I just want you to be comfortable

Malvoria leaned against the gilded dressing screen, arms folded, her eyes never leaving Elysia.

The tailors and their helpers were busy flitting back and forth with armfuls of gowns, leaving a wake of colored silk and whispers in their path.

Each time Elysia disappeared behind the curtain, Malvoria’s anticipation built, and each time Elysia emerged, something in Malvoria’s chest tightened.

Everything looked beautiful on her. It was almost infuriating how Elysia could slip into emerald velvet or midnight blue and transform the whole room, making the air itself seem to hush in her presence.

She stood in front of the great mirror, twisting this way and that, her lips pursed in concentration, never quite satisfied.

"This one?" she asked, sweeping out in a gown of dark amethyst, the sleeves dusted with silver beads. She turned, the skirt fanning out. The tailor beamed.

Malvoria took her time answering. She watched the subtle flare of Elysia’s hips, the way the low neckline accentuated her collarbones, the shadows pooling at her throat.

"You’re stunning in everything," she said, voice pitched for Elysia’s ears alone.

Elysia gave her a look—half exasperation, half delighted. "You’re no help at all."

Malvoria grinned, letting her gaze drift lower, her voice softening. "If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be wearing anything at all."

The flush that crept up Elysia’s neck made Malvoria’s heart pound with a possessive satisfaction.

Elysia stilled, the dress hanging just slightly from her shoulders as she met Malvoria’s gaze in the mirror. Something flickered between them heat, want, laughter dangerous in its familiarity.

"Careful, Malvoria," Elysia murmured, her lips curving, "the tailor’s still in the room."

Malvoria didn’t move from her place by the screen. She only watched, letting her smile curl. "He’s very professional. He’s seen worse, I’m sure."

Elysia arched an eyebrow, her voice dropping, "Do you want to scandalize the entire staff? I’m still supposed to look like a proper queen for this banquet."

Malvoria shrugged, crossing to her side. She touched the barest strip of Elysia’s back exposed by the dress, letting her fingers graze soft skin.

"You’re already the only queen in my eyes. But I suppose I can restrain myself until the fittings are finished."

Elysia wriggled, clearly struggling not to laugh. "You’re impossible. And distracting. Stand over there, or I’ll never decide."

With exaggerated solemnity, Malvoria retreated though she took her time, ensuring her presence lingered just behind Elysia’s shoulder in the mirror.

The room filled with the quiet sound of fabric sliding across skin, the swish of skirts, the low murmur of the tailor’s voice.

Dress after dress came and went: a dusky green with a high collar (Elysia wrinkled her nose), a blush silk with trailing sleeves (Malvoria shook her head immediately), a gown of opal-white that made Elysia’s hair shimmer like moonlight but, they agreed, was far too bridal.

Every so often, Elysia would glance over her shoulder, catching Malvoria’s eyes—challenging, teasing, seeking her honest opinion.

"Too much ruffle," Malvoria said, as Elysia spun in a confection of ruffles and pearl beading.

"Too somber," she judged, as Elysia tried a sleek navy that belonged at a funeral rather than a celebration.

Elysia began to laugh, shaking her head as she peeled out of yet another unsuitable bodice. "You’re more opinionated than I expected, Mal."

Malvoria made a show of sighing. "I just want you to be comfortable. And I want every guest to envy me."

"You just want to get me out of these dresses," Elysia accused, cheeks pink, lips twitching.

"Guilty," Malvoria murmured, stepping close. She brushed a hand along Elysia’s bare arm, watched goosebumps rise in her wake.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just them—just the heat between their bodies, the memory of laughter, kisses stolen behind closed doors, soft sighs in the dark.

Elysia caught her wrist, laughing softly but serious enough that Malvoria could read the warning in her eyes. "We’re in public, Your Majesty."

Malvoria lowered her head, close enough for her breath to tickle Elysia’s ear. "I like it when you call me that."

"Mal—" Elysia’s voice was breathless, caught somewhere between amusement and need.

But before anything else could happen, the tailor cleared his throat—a dry, apologetic sound that sent Elysia flying to the other side of the dressing room, smoothing her hair and adopting her most regal pose.

Malvoria stepped back, swallowing a smirk. She sat and tried to look innocent, though her mind still spun with images of Elysia in half-shadow, silk pooling at her feet.

Eventually, Elysia returned to the racks. She pawed through a row of dark fabrics and suddenly paused, her hand brushing over something with a spark in her eyes. "What about this?"

The tailor hurried over and extracted a gown from the far end of the display. It was dramatic: a striking combination of deep red and black, velvet and silk.

The bodice was tailored, almost military in its lines, with crimson embroidery curling like flames across one shoulder.

The skirt flared from the waist, layers of red silk overlaid with black, giving the impression of embers smoldering beneath smoke.

A narrow belt, set with a black onyx gem, circled the waist a queen’s silhouette, dangerous and beautiful.

Malvoria sat up straighter. "Try it."

The tailor helped Elysia into the dress. It fit her perfectly, sliding over her curves as if it had been made for her alone.

The neckline dipped just enough to be daring, but the high collar and fitted sleeves suggested both power and poise.

Elysia looked at herself in the mirror and, for a moment, said nothing.

Malvoria rose, unable to keep her hands to herself. She circled Elysia slowly, letting her fingers drift over the crimson embroidery, down the sweep of her back, along the flared skirt.

She met Elysia’s gaze in the mirror, her own eyes dark and hungry.

"You look... magnificent," she breathed. "Like a queen who’s about to conquer the world."

Elysia spun, watching the skirt billow and settle, catching the shifting colors in the light. She laughed, breathless and delighted, and Malvoria could hardly breathe.

"I think this is the one," Elysia said softly. "It’s fierce. It’s bold. It’s—us."

Malvoria stepped close, letting her hands settle on Elysia’s waist. "It matches Kaelith’s little uniform perfectly. You’ll all look unstoppable."

Elysia smiled, pressing her forehead to Malvoria’s. "We already are."

The tailor fussed, pinning the last adjustments, but Malvoria could barely focus. Elysia was radiant, her confidence bright and unshakeable.

Malvoria’s hands slid lower, pulling Elysia closer, her mouth brushing over Elysia’s temple.

"I do prefer when you’re wearing nothing," Malvoria whispered, her voice velvet and smoke.

Elysia stifled a laugh, swatting her gently. "Malvoria!"

The tailor blinked, looking up. "Did you say something, Your Majesty?"

Malvoria kept her expression perfectly composed. "Only that the dress fits well. You have outdone yourself."

He bowed, relieved, and scurried away to fetch matching shoes and a delicate set of black pearl earrings.

As soon as he vanished behind a curtain, Elysia sagged against Malvoria, laughter shaking her. "You’re going to get us exiled at this rate."

Malvoria bent to kiss her quickly, the moment private, urgent. "It would be worth it."

They laughed together, holding each other in the riot of silks and mirrors. Then, pulling themselves together, they let the assistants bustle around, adding the finishing touches.

Elysia tried on the shoes a delicate pair of black slippers with crimson embroidery at the heel and spun again. Malvoria’s gaze lingered on every inch of her, wanting, loving, always just a little bit hungry.

When all was ready, the tailor stepped back. "Majesties, you look extraordinary."

Elysia inclined her head, regal and warm. "Thank you. This will be perfect for the banquet."

Malvoria, unable to resist one last tease, leaned in and murmured, "Can’t wait to see that dress on the floor."

Elysia’s mouth quirked, amusement flickering in her silver eyes. She let her hand linger on Malvoria’s hip, the tailored gown swirling gently between them.

"I’d like to see you try, Your Majesty," she whispered back, her voice low and smoky, "but you seem to forget a tiny detail."

Malvoria arched an eyebrow, drawing Elysia in with a conspiratorial look. "And what detail is that?" Her voice was soft, but she couldn’t quite keep the hunger from her tone.

Elysia stepped closer, letting their foreheads touch, and she grinned—impish, utterly unrepentant.

"Kaelith still sleeps in our bed. Or did you forget our little tyrant and her uncanny habit of waking up at exactly the wrong time?"

Malvoria groaned, tipping her head back in mock agony. "I was trying to be romantic."

"You were trying to be scandalous." Elysia pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, laughter dancing between them. "And you’re incorrigible."

Malvoria slipped an arm around Elysia’s waist, drawing her into a warm embrace. "One day, I’ll have you all to myself again. No interruptions. No cries for cake at midnight."

Elysia softened, resting her head against Malvoria’s shoulder. "Let’s not wish her away too soon, Mal. There’ll be time for us. For now—let’s let her steal the show."

The tailor bustled in, arms full of garments for packaging. Malvoria and Elysia stepped apart, laughter lingering between them as they gathered up the carefully wrapped banquet clothes. The day felt lighter, golden, impossibly bright.

Hand in hand, they left the shop, two queens still learning—sometimes with grace, often with chaos—how to rule a world where love, laughter, and their daughter reigned above all.

As they stepped into the street, Elysia gave Malvoria’s hand a final squeeze, eyes sparkling. "Besides... anticipation makes the reward even sweeter."