I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 81: This was nothing

Elysia wasn't sure what she was doing.

Her mind, still groggy with exhaustion, struggled to process what had just happened—what she had just done.

Her fingers, still curled loosely around Malvoria's hand, felt oddly warm. Solid.

She had grabbed Malvoria without thinking.

Why?

Why had she done that?

Her body had moved before her mind could catch up, acting on instinct rather than reason. But what instinct? There was no logic in this—no reason for her to hold onto Malvoria, to keep her from leaving.

And yet, she hadn't let go.

Her grip was light, hesitant, as if her own touch had startled herself.

Malvoria, for once, didn't immediately pull away either.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, as if the very air in the room had shifted.

Elysia's mind raced.

She should release her.

She should let go.

But she didn't.

She didn't because, for some infuriating, illogical reason—

She didn't want to.

Malvoria, always unreadable, studied her with those piercing gray eyes, her expression calm, patient.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, she finally sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Well," Malvoria said, her voice low, steady. "I can stay a little more."

Elysia swallowed, unsure whether that was a relief or something else entirely.

Then—

"But don't you want to eat?" Malvoria added, arching a brow.

Elysia blinked. The question was so... normal that it startled her.

Eat?

Her stomach twisted slightly at the thought. She hadn't even considered food since her capture. Hunger had been drowned out by pain, exhaustion, and the sheer weight of her circumstances.

The bruises lining her ribs ached a little with each breath, a cruel reminder of her struggle.

The shackles that had once bound her were gone, but the ghost of their bite lingered on her wrists, an echo of restraint that hadn't quite faded.

Food had been the last thing on her mind. Survival had taken precedence.

But now, with the distant scent of something warm lingering in the air and Malvoria standing so close, that long-forgotten pang of hunger clawed its way to the surface.

"I..." Elysia hesitated, her throat tightening.

Malvoria hummed, tilting her head slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. "Not hungry?"

Elysia was hungry. But she didn't know how to say that—not with Malvoria watching her so intently, as if every flicker of hesitation was a secret to be unraveled.

Not with her mind still spiraling over why Malvoria was even holding onto her in the first place, her fingers brushing against Elysia's own as if testing the weight of them.

She didn't understand this. She didn't understand Malvoria.

But the Demon Queen didn't wait for an answer.

With a simple tilt of her head, her voice cut through the silence with effortless command. "Maid."

A young demon woman, who had been standing just outside the doorway, immediately stepped inside, her posture rigid as she bowed low.

"Bring food," Malvoria instructed. "Something light."

The maid nodded before hurrying off, her footsteps barely making a sound against the marble floor.

Elysia exhaled sharply, finally releasing Malvoria's hand. The warmth of her skin lingered like an unwanted brand, and she curled her fingers into the soft sheets beneath her instead.

She had to get a hold of herself.

This was nothing.

It meant nothing.

...Right?

The silence stretched, heavy and charged. Malvoria didn't speak, merely watching her, the weight of her gaze a pressure against Elysia's skin. It was unbearable, and yet, some part of her refused to look away.

Before it could settle into something even more suffocating, the maid returned, carrying a tray of food with careful precision.

The scent hit Elysia first—warm, fresh bread, golden-crusted and soft in the center, alongside a bowl of steaming broth, rich with the aroma of herbs and slow-cooked spices.

The scent curled into her lungs, coaxing forth a hunger so sudden and raw that her stomach clenched with need.

Betrayal, she thought distantly. Her own body had turned against her.

The maid placed the tray on the nightstand beside the bed, bowing once more before excusing herself.

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Malvoria, however, didn't move at first.

Then, with slow deliberation, she reached for the tray, lifting a spoon from the bowl.

Elysia stiffened, wariness snapping through her.

"What are you—"

Malvoria dipped the spoon into the broth, scooping up a portion before holding it out toward her.

Elysia's brain stalled.

She blinked at the spoon.

Then at Malvoria.

Then at the spoon again.

"You're... feeding me?" Her voice came out almost incredulous.

Malvoria's expression remained impassive, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Yes."

Elysia felt her face heat. "I can—"

"You're injured," Malvoria interrupted smoothly. "Eat."

Elysia narrowed her eyes, glaring at the spoon like it had personally offended her.

She wasn't helpless.

She could eat on her own.

But Malvoria's stare was unrelenting, patient in a way that was almost worse than force.

Elysia hesitated—just for a moment—before exhaling sharply, her pride warring with exhaustion. Finally, she leaned forward slightly, letting her lips part as she took the offered spoonful.

The broth was warm, rich, soothing as it coated her throat. It was the first real comfort she'd allowed herself since this ordeal began.

Malvoria, infuriatingly composed, simply scooped another spoonful.

Elysia didn't protest this time.

The slow, unhurried process continued, the only sounds in the room the soft clink of silverware against porcelain and the muted hum of something unspoken between them.

Something... different.

There was no need for words.

No need for explanations.

Just this—this odd, careful, almost intimate act that Elysia couldn't bring herself to pull away from.

She barely noticed when the meal was finished.

She barely noticed anything except the way Malvoria's fingers brushed against hers as she set the spoon down.

The warmth of the broth still lingered on her lips.

But that wasn't why her heart was pounding.

The air between them had shifted, slow and creeping, wrapping around them like a thread neither of them could sever.

Malvoria was still close—too close.

The tension curled between them, invisible but tangible, tightening with every breath.

Elysia's fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. Malvoria's gaze remained steady, waiting—watching—for something Elysia couldn't quite name.

And before she could stop herself—before she could think—

She leaned forward.

And kissed her.