I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 92: You need rest

Elysia lay sprawled on the bed, her limbs tangled in the silk sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Her body still ached—a dull, lingering reminder of the very eventful night before.

And her mind?

It was a traitor.

Because no matter how much she tried to focus on anything else, it kept dragging her back to Malvoria.

To the way she had moved. To the way she had touched. To the way she had claimed—

Elysia's cheeks flamed.

This was bad.

Really, really bad.

She was supposed to hate Malvoria.

She was supposed to be plotting her downfall, not lying here replaying the way Malvoria's hands had felt on her skin, how her voice had dipped into something dark and hungry when she—

No.

Absolutely not.

She was not going to think about this.

She refused.

Elysia groaned, burying her face into the pillow.

And then—

Knock knock knock.

Elysia tensed.

A visitor?

"Your Majesty?" a soft voice called from the other side.

The door cracked open before Elysia could even respond.

Then—

A swarm of maids entered.

Elysia barely had time to react before they were all over her.

"Oh, dear, look at you—"

"Careful, careful, she's still injured—"

"Do you need more pillows? More blankets? Anything at all?"

Elysia blinked, overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of it all.

One moment, she was lying in peace—

And the next?

Hands were adjusting her pillows, smoothing her sheets, fussing over every inch of her.

She barely managed to sit up before a warm, wet cloth was pressed against her forehead.

"I—I don't need—"

"Oh, hush, Your Majesty," one of the older maids chided. "You need rest."

Another maid gasped dramatically. "Oh! Look at her skin!"

Elysia froze.

Wait.

Wait.

"Oh dear," one of them muttered, inspecting her neck. "That's a deep one."

Another joined in. "That's not a bruise—that's a bite mark!"

Elysia's soul left her body.

The maids stared.

And then—

A chorus of knowing gasps.

"Oh, my—"

"Well, that explains a lot—"

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"She must have been ravenous—"

Elysia flushed so hard she thought she might combust.

"I—it's not—"

The maids were already whispering amongst themselves.

"I told you the Queen was territorial—"

"Look at these marks, though—"

"She left her completely covered—"

Elysia buried her face in her hands.

This was not happening. This was not real. She had to be dreaming.

Had to be—

A gentle hand patted her back. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. It happens to the best of us."

Elysia made a strangled sound.

Another maid sighed wistfully. "Must have been some night."

Elysia groaned. Her entire existence was a mistake. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to speak through the humiliation.

"...Does it look that bad?"

The maids all nodded in unison. Elysia collapsed back into the pillows.

She was never going to recover from this.

The maids were still fussing over her when the scent of warm bread and fresh fruit drifted into the room.

Elysia's stomach betrayed her by growling.

Immediately, one of the younger maids perked up. "Ah! Perfect timing!"

Two more maids entered, carrying trays stacked with food—fluffy rolls, slices of ripe fruit, golden eggs, and a steaming pot of tea.

Elysia blinked.

That was... a lot of food.

One of the older maids set the tray down on a small table by the window. "We brought breakfast, Your Majesty. You need to eat well, especially after—"

She hesitated.

Elysia narrowed her eyes. "After what?"

A few of the maids exchanged very knowing glances.

Elysia sighed. "Never mind."

They were never going to let her live this down.

Still, the food did smell good.

She stretched her sore limbs, carefully adjusting herself against the pillows, before glancing at the group of maids still standing there, expectantly.

...Were they just going to watch her eat?

The thought made her skin prickle with discomfort.

Elysia hesitated, then glanced at the extra plates stacked on the tray.

"How about..." She cleared her throat. "You all eat with me?"

A pause.

The maids stared.

One of them nearly dropped the teapot.

Elysia tilted her head. "What?"

One of the younger maids gasped. "You—you want us to eat with you?"

Elysia frowned. "Yes?"

Another maid, an older one with graying hair, dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, Your Majesty, you are too kind—"

Elysia blinked, suddenly feeling wildly unprepared for the emotional reactions she was receiving.

One of the younger maids grabbed another's hands. "This is the best day of my life."

Another maid patted her chest. "She's an angel."

Elysia let out a slow, long sigh. "It's just breakfast."

The maids did not seem to think it was "just breakfast."

With great enthusiasm, they hurried to set more plates, bringing over stools and chairs so they could gather around.

Elysia watched, bemused, as the small gathering quickly became a lively affair.

Soon, the quiet room was filled with the clinking of plates, the soft murmur of conversation, and the occasional (and very unsubtle) whispered comments about the marks still decorating her skin.

Elysia pretended not to hear those.

For now.

Elysia had expected breakfast to be a simple affair—quick, quiet, and uneventful.

Instead, she found herself entirely caught up in conversation.

The maids were talkers.

They chatted about everything, from their favorite meals to the latest palace gossip (which, much to Elysia's horror, heavily revolved around her and Malvoria).

And then, somewhere in between a debate about which baker in the castle made the fluffiest bread, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

One of the older maids sighed, setting down her cup of tea. "You know, for all the fearsome stories about Her Majesty, she's been very good to us."

Elysia blinked. "Malvoria?"

The maid nodded. "Oh, yes. I've worked here for over fifteen years, and I can tell you, no ruler before her ever treated the palace staff this well."

A younger maid chimed in, eyes shining. "We get vacation days. Whenever we want! No questions asked!"

Elysia nearly choked on her tea. "What?"

Another maid grinned. "The pay is excellent, too. Her Majesty made sure of that."

Elysia stared.

Malvoria?

Malvoria was... a generous employer?

That did not fit the cold, ruthless demon queen she had been expecting.

"She doesn't tolerate mistreatment," one of the older maids added. "If any noble dares to disrespect us? Oh, the rage."

The others nodded in agreement.

Elysia sat back, absorbing this wildly unexpected information.

She had spent so long thinking of Malvoria as an enemy, a tyrant, a heartless ruler.

And yet, here were the people who worked under her—adoring her.

It was... a lot to process.

Elysia sighed, rubbing her temple.

Just who was Malvoria, really?