I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 64: We need information, not bodies

The grand meeting room buzzed with tension, the dark stone walls seeming to absorb every hushed conversation, every hurried whisper.

At the center of it all, Malvoria sat at the head of a long, polished table, her sharp gray eyes scanning the gathered commanders with a look that could freeze fire.

Maps were spread out before them, crimson lines marking enemy positions and recent skirmishes. Scrolls filled with intelligence reports lay stacked beside her, their contents detailing the growing unrest in the northern territories.

"This group of rebels," Commander Kalen growled, his deep voice filled with frustration, "they're becoming bolder. Capturing them was a stroke of luck, but we need to make sure we squeeze every bit of information out of them before they get any clever ideas."

Malvoria leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "Agreed. But luck had little to do with it. Our soldiers knew exactly how to corner them."

Commander Veylar, a younger but equally fierce demon, nodded. "Yes, but capturing them was the easy part. Interrogation..." He trailed off, glancing warily at Malvoria before adding, "...will require a more delicate hand."

Malvoria raised a single crimson brow, her smirk deepening. "Delicate?" she drawled. "Are you implying I'm incapable of subtlety?"

The room fell into an awkward silence, several commanders exchanging nervous glances. Finally, Kalen cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully.

"It's not that, Your Majesty. It's just that... well... your methods tend to be..."

"Effective?" Malvoria supplied, her grin turning sharp.

"Lethal," Kalen corrected, shifting uncomfortably. "We need information, not bodies."

Malvoria chuckled softly, leaning forward with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "What's the point of keeping them alive if they refuse to talk?"

"Exactly!" came a cheerful voice from the far end of the room.

Malvoria's mother, Veylira, lounged on a velvet chaise, sipping wine as if the fate of rebel prisoners was the most entertaining gossip of the week. Her red hair shimmered under the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, and her sharp eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Oh, Malvoria, dear," Veylira purred, "you do have a tendency to... how shall I put this delicately... lose your temper and reduce people to ash before they've had a chance to say anything useful."

Malvoria rolled her eyes. "I do not lose my temper."

"Of course not," Veylira teased, her smile widening. "It's perfectly normal to incinerate someone for blinking too loudly."

The commanders stifled chuckles, clearly amused but too wise to laugh openly.

Malvoria shot her mother a glare. "I only incinerated him because he deserved it."

"He sneezed," Veylira deadpanned.

"It was suspicious timing," Malvoria muttered under her breath, earning a few muffled snorts from the commanders.

"Well," Commander Veylar cut in, trying to steer the conversation back on track, "perhaps we should assign someone else to lead the interrogations. Just to ensure we... get results."

Malvoria's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I'm incapable of getting results?"

"No, Your Majesty," Veylar replied quickly, holding up his hands. "We're saying we need the prisoners alive long enough to provide results."

Veylira chuckled softly, swirling her wine. "See, even your commanders know you have... impulse control issues."

Malvoria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Assign whoever you deem fit. But if they fail, I'll handle it my way."

The commanders nodded in relief, just as a rapid knock echoed through the room, interrupting the discussion.

"Enter," Malvoria commanded, her tone sharp.

The heavy doors swung open, revealing a young demon soldier, slightly out of breath and looking thoroughly nervous. He bowed deeply before speaking.

"Your Majesty," he began, voice trembling slightly. "We... we need you."

Malvoria's brows furrowed. "Why? What's so urgent that you'd interrupt my meeting?"

The soldier swallowed hard, clearly wishing he was anywhere else. "It's... it's Queen Elysia."

Malvoria's posture stiffened instantly, her eyes narrowing to slits. "What about her?"

"She... she was injured while training with the soldiers," the soldier explained hurriedly. "She refuses to let anyone treat her injuries."

The room went deathly silent.

Malvoria's grip on the armrest tightened, her claws digging into the wood. "Injured?" she repeated, her voice dangerously low. "Who injured her?"

The soldier paled. "It was an accident, Your Majesty! During sparring. No one meant—"

"Who?" Malvoria's voice cut through the air like a whip.

The soldier flinched. "Commander Kaelen, Your Majesty."

The tension in the room skyrocketed as Malvoria's eyes darkened with barely restrained fury. She stood abruptly, the sudden movement making the soldier take an instinctive step back.

"Send him to my office," Malvoria ordered coldly. "Later."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the soldier stammered.

"Now bring me a healer," Malvoria added sharply, already striding toward the door. "And meet me in Queen Elysia's chambers."

Without waiting for a response, she swept out of the room, her crimson hair flowing behind her like a trail of fire.

Veylira chuckled softly from her chaise. "Oh, this is going to be entertaining."

Malvoria shot her mother a warning glare as she passed. "Not a word."

Veylira raised her hands in mock surrender, a grin playing on her lips.

The journey to Elysia's chambers felt both too long and not long enough. Malvoria's mind raced, a whirlwind of concern and irritation. Why was she training with the soldiers without telling me? And why in the void is she refusing treatment?

She reached Elysia's door, the healer already waiting nervously beside it. Malvoria didn't bother knocking; she pushed the door open, eyes immediately locking onto Elysia, who sat stubbornly on the edge of her bed, cradling her injured arm.

Elysia's violet eyes widened slightly at the sudden intrusion. "Malvoria—"

"Don't," Malvoria interrupted sharply, striding into the room. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Elysia replied quickly, standing up. "I'm fine."

Malvoria's eyes narrowed. "You're bleeding."

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"It's barely a scratch."

Malvoria turned to the healer. "Fix it."

Elysia scowled. "I don't need a healer."

Malvoria crossed her arms, her expression unamused. "Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Elysia," Malvoria warned, her tone darkening. "You're being ridiculous."

Elysia huffed, glaring at Malvoria. "It's my body. I'll decide what it needs."

Malvoria pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. "Why must you be so stubborn?"

"Because I don't need to be coddled," Elysia shot back.

"This isn't coddling. It's basic medical care."

"I've had worse."

"That doesn't make this any less important."

The healer stood awkwardly between them, eyes darting back and forth as if debating whether to interrupt or flee.

"I'm fine," Elysia insisted. "It'll heal on its own."

Malvoria took a deep breath, reigning in her frustration. She met Elysia's gaze, her expression softening just slightly.

"Please," she said quietly, though her tone still carried weight. "Let them help you."

Elysia's resolve wavered for a moment, but she shook her head. "No."

Malvoria exhaled slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "Healer."

The healer straightened, ready to approach.

"Leave."