I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 83: Did you kiss her?

The knock at the door shattered the fragile atmosphere between them.

Elysia's breath caught in her throat as she and Malvoria pulled apart instinctively, the warmth of their shared moment evaporating in an instant.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then, as if struck by the same thought, they both began adjusting themselves—Elysia quickly smoothing down her clothes, Malvoria straightening her posture, her face returning to its usual cold mask of indifference.

It was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

They were acting like they had been caught doing something forbidden.

But it had felt forbidden, hadn't it? The kiss—their kiss—still tingled on Elysia's lips, replaying in her mind in a frantic loop. The way Malvoria's touch had burned just enough to make her shiver, the way she had softened instead of taking, the way Elysia had leaned into her—

Elysia's heart pounded in her chest.

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

Malvoria exhaled, her usual cool exterior back in place. "Enter."

The door creaked open, revealing Thalor.

The sight of her father sent a rush of emotions through Elysia. Relief. Guilt. Worry. He stood in the doorway, his gaze flickering between them, unreadable.

"I need to speak with Elysia," he said evenly. "Alone."

Malvoria didn't hesitate.

She was gone before Elysia could process it, her movements sharp, precise—fast.

Almost too fast.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Elysia staring at the empty space where Malvoria had been just moments ago.

And without meaning to—without thinking—Elysia repeated the kiss in her mind.

Her fingers twitched, aching with the ghost of Malvoria's touch.

Gods.

What had she done?

She barely had time to settle the mess of thoughts swarming in her head before her father stepped further into the room.

Thalor didn't speak at first. He simply walked closer, his gaze careful, as if taking in every bruise, every cut, every bit of exhaustion she had tried to hide.

Elysia's stomach twisted.

Her father, the ever-calm, ever-composed King of Arvandor, looked... worried.

She hated that look.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Elysia swallowed. "Yes."

He didn't look convinced.

"Elysia."

The way he said her name—gently, yet firmly—made something tighten in her chest.

She wanted to pretend she was fine. That the bruises didn't ache, that the weight of everything that had happened wasn't pressing down on her.

But Thalor was her father.

He knew her.

And more than that—he cared.

Elysia sighed, shifting slightly on the bed, careful not to aggravate her still-healing injuries. "I'm... tired."

Thalor's expression softened. "I imagine so."

There was a beat of silence before he sat down beside her, his presence warm, familiar.

He didn't rush her.

Didn't demand answers.

He simply waited.

And that, somehow, made Elysia's defenses crumble faster than any interrogation ever could.

She hesitated, then exhaled. "It was worse than I expected."

Thalor nodded slowly. "I assumed as much."

Elysia glanced down at her hands, fingers curling slightly against the bedsheets. "They had the demon soldiers, too. They were hurting them." She felt her jaw tighten. "And they—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Malvoria—"

"She got to you in time," Thalor finished.

Elysia nodded.

Thalor studied her carefully. "And she took care of them?"

Elysia scoffed. "Took care of them is an understatement."

Thalor let out a low hum, his lips pressing together. "I assume she was... thorough?"

Elysia hesitated, images flashing in her mind—the way Malvoria had torn through the rebels like a force of nature, the absolute rage in her eyes when she had seen Elysia bound, bruised.

"She was Malvoria," Elysia answered simply.

Thalor exhaled. "That does not bring me any comfort."

Elysia couldn't help it—she let out a small, tired chuckle. "It should."

Thalor's gaze softened, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, with quiet care, he reached out and placed a hand over hers.

Elysia blinked, her throat suddenly tight.

She had forgotten what this felt like.

The safety of it.

The simple, unshakable truth that her father loved her, that he would always love her.

Elysia swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"I worried for you," Thalor admitted, his voice quieter. "More than I ever have before."

Elysia exhaled. "I know."

"I should have been there."

Elysia shook her head immediately. "Don't do that."

Thalor frowned slightly.

Elysia squeezed his hand. "I'm here. I'm safe. That's what matters."

His eyes flickered over her face, searching for something she wasn't sure she could give him.

Then, after a moment, his lips twitched into the smallest, smallest hint of amusement.

"Did you kiss her?"

Elysia froze.

Her breath caught in her throat, her entire body stiffening.

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"What?"

Thalor arched a brow, the slightest smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You heard me."

Elysia's brain short-circuited.

How? How did he—

Her face burned, her mind scrambling for any logical response—

But Thalor just sat there, patient, waiting.

And Elysia, for the first time in a long time, had no idea what to say.

Elysia's mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again.

Nothing came out.

She could not have just heard that correctly.

Her father—the composed, regal, stoic Thalor—had just asked if she kissed Malvoria.

Like it was a casual question. Like it was normal conversation material.

Her brain struggled to function, her thoughts scrambling like a pile of overturned books.

"I—what?" she finally managed, her voice an embarrassing octave higher than usual.

Thalor leaned back slightly, looking far too smug for a man who had just endured a crisis over his kidnapped daughter.

"I asked if you kissed her," he repeated, slower, as if she were stupid.

Elysia's face burned hotter than the fires of the underworld. "I heard you!"

"Then why are you acting like you didn't?"

"Because—why would you ask that?"

Thalor tilted his head, pretending to be thoughtful. "Well, when I walked in, she left very quickly. And you looked... distracted."

Elysia spluttered.

She was going to die.

Right here. Right now.

"Father," she hissed, lowering her voice. "You cannot just—ask things like that!"

Thalor's lips twitched. "Why not?"

Elysia buried her face in her hands.

This was humiliating.

This was not how she envisioned their post-kidnapping conversation.

She could handle many things—political negotiations, battle strategies, even near-death experiences.

But this?

Absolutely not.

Thalor sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. "I knew something was happening. That woman dropped everything to rescue you. She carried you all the way home. She even—"

"STOP TALKING!" Elysia nearly shrieked.

Thalor blinked.

Then—laughed.

Laughed.

Elysia groaned, flopping backward against the pillows, covering her face. "I hate this."

"No, you don't," Thalor said cheerfully. "So. Are you going to answer my question?"

Elysia groaned louder.

Maybe she should have let Malvoria kill her captors.

Because at this point, she preferred death over this conversation.