I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 98: You are mine

The silence was suffocating.

Malvoria stood at the threshold, the tray of food balanced in her hands, her gray eyes locking onto the scene before her.

The tangled sheets, the warmth still lingering between two bodies that had clearly slept too close, and the steady rise and fall of Zera's breathing as she remained right beside Elysia.

Something inside Malvoria snapped.

The weight in her hands suddenly felt wrong, like an object she had no business carrying. The realization struck like a blade to the gut, sharp and unrelenting.

She didn't bring food to people. She didn't care whether someone had eaten or not. She had never once in her life concerned herself with something so mundane.

And yet—

She had come here. With a tray. To see her.

And now, standing in this doorway, taking in the sight of Elysia lying in bed with Zera—

It made her blood boil.

Her grip tightened.

Then—

The tray hit the floor with a crash.

The plates shattered instantly, the loud clang of metal against stone reverberating through the air, the food scattering in a mess of broken porcelain and crushed delicacies.

Zera woke immediately, jerking upright at the sound, her blue eyes wide with confusion.

And then she saw Malvoria.

And her face hardened.

Malvoria took a step forward, slow, deliberate, her expression carved from cold fury.

Elysia was already moving, pushing herself up in bed, but Malvoria barely spared her a glance.

Her attention was locked solely on Zera, who was still seated, still blinking away the remnants of sleep, still too close to what belonged to Malvoria.

"I see," Malvoria said, her voice low, steady, but laced with something dangerous. "So that's how it is."

Elysia let out a breath. "Malvoria, wait—"

But Malvoria wasn't listening.

She took another step closer.

Zera—finally awake enough to register the full weight of the situation—swung her legs over the bed, straightening as if preparing for a fight.

"I don't owe you an explanation," she said coldly.

Malvoria smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

It was the kind of smile that sent lesser men running, the kind of smile that precedes war.

"Is that so?" Malvoria murmured, tilting her head. "Then tell me, bodyguard—do you always crawl into bed with the people you're meant to protect?"

Zera's jaw clenched. "I—"

"Because from where I'm standing," Malvoria continued, her voice sharp and cutting, "this doesn't look like protection. It looks like something else entirely."

Zera's fists clenched at her sides. "You don't know anything about us."

That was it.

Malvoria lunged.

She wasn't thinking—wasn't considering anything beyond the sheer rage pounding through her veins. Her body moved before her mind could catch up, instincts kicking in with a dangerous precision.

Zera barely had time to react before Malvoria's hand was grabbing her collar, yanking her forward, their faces inches apart.

The air was thick with hostility, the very walls seeming to tremble beneath the pressure of it.

"I know enough," Malvoria hissed.

Zera gritted her teeth, her entire body tense, but Malvoria could see it—the flicker of uncertainty, the way her breath hitched, the way her pulse jumped.

She was afraid.

Good.

"You're a damn fool if you think I'll let you take her from me," Malvoria murmured, her grip tightening. "I should kill you where you stand."

Zera's eyes flashed with defiance. "You'd have to try harder than that."

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Malvoria's patience snapped.

She raised her hand, fingers curling into a fist, prepared to strike—

But before she could—

A smaller hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly.

"Enough!"

Malvoria froze.

Elysia was standing now, her silver eyes burning with fury, her grip unrelenting as she held Malvoria's wrist in place, stopping the blow before it could land.

The entire room felt like it stilled.

For the first time since entering the room, Malvoria finally, truly, looked at Elysia.

And in that moment—

Everything changed.

Zera's gaze lingered on Elysia for a moment longer, as if she were considering staying, as if she had something more to say, but when Malvoria's grip loosened, when the silence became too heavy to bear, she finally turned on her heel and left the room without another word.

The door swung shut behind her with a quiet click—too soft compared to the chaos that had just unfolded, too small a sound for the storm still brewing between Malvoria and Elysia.

Malvoria exhaled sharply, running a hand through her red hair, trying—failing—to temper the anger still burning in her veins.

The room was too silent.

Elysia stood near the bed, arms crossed, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders in wild disarray, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp—glowing faintly with the embers of her frustration.

Malvoria finally looked at her. Really looked at her.

Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, her delicate fingers still curled into tense fists, her lips pressed into a firm, unrelenting line. She was angry.

But Malvoria was furious.

"What the hell was that?" Malvoria demanded, her voice dangerously low, a slow, simmering rage beneath the surface.

Elysia scoffed, shaking her head. "I should be asking you that. You came in here like a madwoman, nearly breaking everything in sight."

"You were in bed with her," Malvoria snapped, stepping forward, her tall frame casting a long shadow over Elysia. "What did you expect me to do? Stand there and smile?"

"It's not what you think," Elysia shot back, her voice firm, but Malvoria caught the flicker of uncertainty in her expression.

"Then explain it to me," Malvoria challenged, folding her arms over her chest. "Make me understand why my wife was sleeping next to another woman. Make me understand why I walked in and found her wrapped around you like you still belonged to her."

Elysia's lips parted as if to say something, but then she hesitated.

And that hesitation was enough.

Malvoria clenched her jaw, shaking her head. "That's what I thought."

Elysia exhaled, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Gods, Malvoria, can you stop twisting everything?"

"Twisting—?" Malvoria let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, I'm twisting things now?"

"Yes!" Elysia snapped. "Because nothing happened! Zera and I—we're just friends! That's all we are now, friends."

Malvoria went silent.

For a long moment, the only sound was the sharp intake of her breath, the barely-contained tension in the air between them crackling like a storm ready to break.

Friends.

Just friends.

She should have been relieved by those words, should have felt something close to satisfaction—but instead, all she felt was anger.

Not because she didn't believe Elysia.

Not because she thought she was lying.

But because the idea of Elysia and Zera sharing anything—even something as simple as friendship—felt like something heavier than she wanted to admit.

Malvoria rolled her shoulders, exhaling slowly, forcing herself to calm down, even though the fire still burned low in her gut.

"Fine," she said at last, her voice softer but no less sharp. "You say you're just friends? Then let's leave it at that."

Elysia let out a breath of relief, her shoulders loosening slightly.

But before she could say anything, Malvoria stepped closer, just barely invading her space.

"But let me remind you of something," Malvoria murmured, her voice dipping lower, gray eyes locking onto Elysia's with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

Elysia didn't move, didn't even breathe, as Malvoria took another slow step forward, closing the distance between them with deliberate precision.

The space between them became stifling, charged with something heavier than just anger—something possessive, something dark and unyielding.

"I am the one who holds you at night," Malvoria continued, her voice smooth as silk but edged with steel. "I am the one who touches you, the one who hears your breath hitch, the one who knows what makes you tremble."

Elysia's heartbeat pounded against her ribs.

Malvoria lifted a hand, brushing a slow, deliberate finger along the side of Elysia's throat, tracing over the bite mark she had left just nights before. "I am the one who marks you. The one who makes sure everyone knows who you belong to."

Elysia's breath hitched.

Malvoria smirked.

And then, in a single, fluid motion, she pinned Elysia against the nearest surface, her hands firm but not rough, her gaze dark with possession as she leaned in close, her breath hot against Elysia's skin.

"You," Malvoria whispered, voice thick with unspoken promises, "are mine."