I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 99: Possessive

The air was thick—too thick, pressing against Elysia like an invisible weight, suffocating, inescapable. Malvoria's body was close, her hands firm yet unmoving where they had pinned Elysia in place, her breath warm against Elysia's skin.

Every word Malvoria had spoken still echoed in her ears, I am the one who holds you at night. The one who touches you. The one who marks you.

Possessive. Overwhelming.

Mine.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Elysia's heart pounded so loudly it drowned out every other sound in the room. She didn't know whether it was fear, anger, or something else entirely that made her pulse quicken. She refused to believe it was anything else.

She forced herself to meet Malvoria's gaze, her violet eyes burning with defiance, even as her breath hitched against her will.

"You don't own me," she whispered, her voice steady, though she felt the tremble in her limbs.

Malvoria smirked, slow and dangerous, as if she found amusement in the protest, as if she already knew the truth.

"I don't?" she murmured, her fingers barely ghosting over Elysia's jaw before trailing down, slow, taunting. "Then why aren't you stopping me?"

Elysia stiffened.

She could have moved—should have moved—but Malvoria's presence was like an iron cage around her, pinning her in place without even trying.

And gods, she hated that Malvoria was right.

Because in that moment, she wasn't fighting back.

Not really.

Not in a way that mattered.

Malvoria's gaze flickered downward, her gray eyes lingering on the faint bruises she had left—fading marks along Elysia's neck and collarbone, evidence of her claim.

A slow, satisfied hum left her lips.

"You don't get to deny me," she said, low and sure. "Not after everything."

Elysia's jaw clenched.

"I didn't ask for any of this," she shot back, her voice sharp now, a flame rekindling in her chest, burning away the fog Malvoria had trapped her in.

Malvoria arched a brow. "No?"

Elysia glared at her, her silver hair falling over her shoulders, her body still trapped between Malvoria and the cold, unforgiving wall.

"I never wanted this marriage. I never wanted to be your wife. I never wanted to be yours."

For a moment—just a fraction of a second—something flickered in Malvoria's expression.

Something unreadable.

But it was gone too quickly, buried beneath a veil of indifference as she tilted her head.

"You are my wife," she reminded, her tone lighter now, almost teasing, but the underlying meaning was razor-sharp. "Whether you wanted it or not, you are mine."

Elysia exhaled, slow, controlled, angry.

Malvoria's grip didn't tighten, didn't hold her with force, but it didn't loosen either.

And Elysia hated the way it made her feel—

Trapped.

Like no matter how hard she pushed, she would always fall right back into this moment.

This tension.

This pull between them that she refused to acknowledge.

She turned her head, breaking the contact, forcing herself to breathe.

"You should leave," she said at last, her voice quieter now, but firm.

Malvoria didn't move immediately.

Didn't let go.

And for a heartbeat, Elysia thought she might not.

That she might press further, might push until Elysia had nothing left to say.

But then—

Malvoria smirked again, as if she had already won something Elysia couldn't yet understand.

"Very well," she murmured, stepping back, finally granting her space to breathe.

Elysia didn't move.

She couldn't.

Not until Malvoria turned toward the door, walking away with that unshaken confidence, that aura of control that had never once faltered.

The door opened.

Then—

Malvoria glanced back, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Sleep well, wife."

And then she was gone.

Elysia exhaled, her shoulders sagging, her breath unsteady as silence filled the room once more.

Only then did she realize—

Her hands were shaking.

Elysia remained standing where Malvoria had left her, her breaths uneven as she tried to shake off the lingering presence of the demon queen. The tension still clung to the air, heavy and oppressive, wrapping around her like an unseen chain.

Even though Malvoria was gone, it felt like she was still here—her words, her touch, her overwhelming presence still lingering on Elysia's skin like a phantom sensation.

Her fingers curled at her sides as she tried to steady herself. She had stood her ground, had pushed back, had refused to let Malvoria control the conversation. And yet... why did it feel like she had lost?

I never wanted to be your wife. She had said the words with conviction, with defiance, and yet Malvoria had barely flinched.

Instead, she had reminded Elysia, You are my wife, whether you wanted it or not. As if it was inevitable. As if it was permanent.

The thought made something tighten in Elysia's chest. She didn't want to dwell on it, but her mind wouldn't let go.

A few minutes passed in silence, her heart gradually returning to a steadier rhythm. She should sit down. Maybe drink some water. Do something to clear her head.

Just as she exhaled, trying to push away the weight of the encounter, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound startled her, making her stiffen before she forced herself to relax. It wasn't Malvoria. She was certain of that.

"Come in," she called, her voice steady despite everything.

The door opened, and one of the maids stepped inside, carrying a tray of fresh breakfast. The scent of warm bread, fruit, and something savory filled the room, momentarily pushing away the tension that had settled in.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," the maid greeted with a small bow, her expression warm but careful, as if sensing the mood in the room.

Elysia blinked at her for a moment before exhaling slowly. "Good morning," she murmured, stepping aside as the maid set the tray down on the small table near the bed.

Another set of footsteps followed as two more maids entered, their arms full with fresh linens and cleaning supplies. It took Elysia a moment to realize what they were here for—until she spotted the broken remnants of the meal Malvoria had brought earlier.

The plates had shattered when Malvoria had dropped the tray in her fit of anger, and while Elysia had barely registered the mess at the time, now it felt like a physical reminder of everything that had just happened.

One of the maids let out a quiet sigh as she knelt to gather the broken shards. "Looks like quite the accident," she muttered under her breath.

The other maid hummed in agreement, carefully picking up pieces of porcelain. "It's been a while since I've seen Her Majesty lose her temper this much."

Elysia tensed slightly, watching them work. "Does she... do this often?" she asked before she could stop herself.

The first maid paused, considering the question. "The Queen has always had a temper, but she doesn't often show it like this," she admitted, glancing up at Elysia. "Not unless something really rattles her."

Elysia pursed her lips, glancing toward the door where Malvoria had left. Had she rattled her?

The second maid let out a quiet chuckle. "You must have, Your Majesty. No one else has ever been able to get under her skin like this."

Elysia sighed, running a hand through her silver hair. "That's not exactly... reassuring."

The maids exchanged amused glances before continuing to clean. Elysia turned back to the breakfast tray, hesitating before finally sitting down. The smell was tempting, and she was hungry, but the thought of eating after everything that had just happened felt... strange.

Still, she picked up a piece of bread, tearing it absently as she tried to focus on anything other than the ghost of Malvoria's words.

The maids finished cleaning a few moments later, gathering the broken pieces into a cloth before rising to their feet.

"There we go," one of them said, wiping her hands. "All cleaned up."

"Will that be all, Your Majesty?" the other asked.

Elysia hesitated, glancing at the food before sighing. "Actually... would you stay and eat with me?"

The maids blinked, looking momentarily surprised by the request.

"I'd rather not eat alone," Elysia added, her voice quieter now.

The three of them exchanged glances before soft smiles spread across their faces.

"Well," one of them said, moving to sit at the table with her, "who are we to refuse an order from our Queen?"