I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 66: You were so gentle with her

The door clicked shut behind Malvoria, sealing off the lingering tension from Elysia's room.

She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. But before she could take more than two steps down the hallway, a muffled thud echoed through the corridor.

Malvoria's sharp gray eyes flicked downward.

There, sprawled in an undignified heap on the polished marble floor, were three wide-eyed maids and, to Malvoria's utter exasperation, her mother, Veylira.

Malvoria blinked once, slowly, as silence stretched between them like an awkward pause in a poorly written play.

"Are you serious?" she deadpanned, crossing her arms.

One of the maids, cheeks blazing red, scrambled to her feet. "Y-Your Majesty! W-We were just—uh—passing by!"

"Passing by?" Malvoria repeated, unimpressed. "With your ear pressed to the door?"

Another maid, clutching the hem of her apron like it might somehow shield her from Malvoria's withering stare, nodded vigorously. "Yes! Absolutely! We, uh... dropped something!"

"What exactly?" Malvoria drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your dignity?"

Veylira, lying comfortably on her side like a cat who had been caught but didn't care, propped her head up on her hand and grinned wickedly.

"Oh, darling, you can't blame us. It's not every day I get to hear my daughter playing nursemaid."

Malvoria pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mother."

"What?" Veylira replied innocently, fluttering her lashes. "You were so gentle with her. It was adorable."

The maids giggled behind their hands, clearly emboldened by Veylira's antics.

Malvoria's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Adorable?"

Veylira smirked, sitting up and brushing imaginary dust off her elegant gown. "Oh, come now, Malvoria. You bandaged her arm yourself! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were getting soft."

Malvoria's jaw clenched. "I am not getting soft."

"Of course not," Veylira teased, standing gracefully. "You just have a... tender spot for your lovely wife."

Malvoria turned on her heel, striding away. "I don't have time for this."

But Veylira, never one to let her daughter escape easily, fell into step beside her. The maids scurried away, clearly deciding that fleeing was the better part of valor.

"So," Veylira began, her tone far too casual, "how's married life?"

Malvoria shot her a glare. "You know exactly how it is."

"Oh, but I want to hear it from you," Veylira purred. "Did she swoon into your arms when you bandaged her? Whisper sweet nothings into your ear?"

Malvoria's steps quickened. "No."

Veylira grinned, undeterred. "Did you at least get a thank-you kiss?"

Malvoria halted so abruptly that Veylira nearly walked into her. The Demon Queen turned slowly, her gray eyes narrowing. "Mother, if you don't stop—"

"You'll what?" Veylira interrupted, a mischievous gleam in her violet eyes. "Incinerate me? You wouldn't dare."

Malvoria huffed, turning back around and continuing her march toward her office. "You are impossible."

"I'm delightful," Veylira corrected with a chuckle. "And don't think I didn't notice that little moment when you almost kissed her."

Malvoria's steps faltered for half a second, but she recovered quickly. "That didn't happen."

"Oh, but it almost did," Veylira sang. "Why didn't you?"

"Because," Malvoria snapped, finally reaching her office door. She pushed it open with more force than necessary and stepped inside. "I have more important things to do."

Veylira followed, perching herself on the corner of Malvoria's desk like she owned the place. "More important than your lovely wife?"

Malvoria let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her crimson hair. "Yes."

"Such as?"

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm Only.

"Keeping this kingdom from falling apart," Malvoria shot back, gesturing to the piles of reports on her desk. "Handling the rebels. Managing our borders. And now, apparently, answering your endless questions."

Veylira's smile turned sly. "Admit it. She's gotten under your skin."

Malvoria's eyes flashed dangerously. "She hasn't."

"Oh, darling," Veylira purred, leaning in, "you're adorable when you lie."

"I'm not lying," Malvoria insisted through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you still thinking about her?" Veylira countered, tilting her head. "Why did you walk out instead of kissing her?"

Malvoria's fists clenched. "Because..."

Veylira waited, her grin widening as the silence stretched.

Finally, Malvoria let out a slow breath, her voice low and firm. "Because I'm leaving."

Veylira blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Leaving?"

"Yes," Malvoria replied, her tone final. "I'm going on a mission. Two weeks."

Veylira's grin returned, more teasing than ever. "Running away, are we?"

Malvoria shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "It's called strategy."

Veylira chuckled softly. "Oh, sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that."

Malvoria paced her office, her mind whirring like a storm barely kept in check. The decision had been made—two weeks away.

She needed distance, time to regain her composure, to silence the growing distraction that Elysia had become.

She approached the large map pinned to the wall, her sharp gray eyes scanning the marked territories.

There were countless missions that needed attention—border inspections, political dealings, even minor skirmishes with rebellious factions. Any of them would serve her purpose.

Something far enough. Something that won't demand too much thought, she mused, her fingers trailing along the map's surface.

Her gaze settled on a distant outpost along the eastern border, where whispers of smugglers and rogue mages had been reported.

It wasn't urgent, but it would take time and effort—exactly what she needed to occupy her mind.

"Perfect," she muttered under her breath.

Without hesitation, she began preparing. Her mind meticulously cataloged what she would need—armor, enchanted weapons, logistical details.

She called for her aides, issuing crisp orders to ready her gear and inform the outpost of her impending arrival.

Two weeks. Just two weeks away, she thought. That should be enough... right?

But even as she busied herself, a nagging thought lingered at the edge of her mind.

Is it a good idea?

Malvoria moved through the castle halls with purpose, each step echoing her resolve. She instructed her attendants to prepare her armor and supplies, her voice calm but firm.

Yet, no matter how focused she tried to be, Elysia's face lingered in her mind—the defiant glare, the stubborn refusal to accept help. Malvoria clenched her fists.

Distance is necessary, she reminded herself. Two weeks away would give her clarity. She'd return stronger, her emotions in check.

But as she packed her belongings, an unsettling thought whispered in her mind: What if two weeks wasn't enough to forget?