I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 254: Give me back my throne

The room shifted the moment Lucindra spoke.

Not just the atmosphere but the very air. As if the walls themselves held their breath.

Malvoria didn’t move at first. Her mind simply stalled.

My granddaughter is beautiful, Lucindra had said, smiling like she hadn’t burned bridges and abandoned them all a decade ago.

The gall.

The gall.

The murmurs began at the edges of the crowd, nobles exchanging glances, whispering quickly behind their hands. Some recognized her—others only recognized danger.

Malvoria’s body moved before her mind could catch up.

She stepped forward, her boots striking the stone like war drums, cape flaring behind her like a crimson wave. The heat around her rose instantly, faint flame whispering at her shoulders.

"You’re not welcome here," she said, voice sharp and perfectly controlled.

Lucindra turned, as if only just noticing the tension. "Malvoria, darling. Still dramatic, I see."

"Still a traitorous leech, I see."

A few nobles gasped. Others began to edge toward the exits, sensing that what was coming wasn’t for diplomatic ears.

Lucindra arched a brow. "So much hostility."

"You left," Malvoria spat. "You walked out with stolen funds, half the royal vault, and no explanation—no word—for ten years."

Lucindra shrugged one shoulder, the gesture infuriatingly elegant. "I needed space."

"You needed coin," snapped Lara, who appeared at Malvoria’s side like a summoned blade. "You left us. Left her."

"You had Veylira," Lucindra said calmly. "Clearly more than enough, since she’s replaced me already."

Malvoria’s flame flared hot and immediate, licking up the hem of her cape.

"Do not speak about her."

Across the ballroom, Raveth stepped forward, already positioning herself protectively beside Veylira, who had stood—but only just. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes dim like dying stars.

Lucindra’s gaze flicked toward them, mocking. "You found a new lover, Veylira. How sweet."

Veylira didn’t blink. "I found someone who stayed."

That finally cracked Lucindra’s smile.

Only slightly.

"You all act like I committed treason," she said, her tone light and maddening. "I merely took what I was owed."

"You abandoned us," Malvoria hissed, stepping fully onto the edge of the dais. "You disappeared without a word while we were still reeling from war. You let your family believe you were dead."

"I didn’t think you’d miss me," Lucindra said, tone mock-casual.

Lara barked a harsh laugh. "Oh we didn’t. We missed answers. We missed having one less mess to clean up."

By now, half the ballroom had cleared out.

The nobles scattered with well-practiced efficiency. The musicians had packed up their instruments. Even Thalor had slipped off, Kaelith safely tucked into a protective suite.

Only the family remained—plus Lucindra, standing there like she had every right to be in their lives again.

"What do you want?" Malvoria asked, stepping down from the throne.

Lucindra’s gaze snapped to hers. "I want what’s mine."

"What you stole wasn’t enough?"

"Stolen?" Lucindra’s voice rose, sharper now. "I built half this empire with Veylira! I forged alliances, I negotiated peace, I bled on battlefields beside her—"

"You took credit and fled," Veylira interrupted coldly.

Lucindra flinched.

"You want to be remembered as some founding queen, fine. Have your stories," Veylira continued. "But don’t pretend you were ever loyal. You saw power shifting and ran. You thought you were too good for us."

Lucindra’s eyes burned brighter. "I was too good to rot in your shadow. I carried that title for years—the Demon Queen—while you made all the real decisions."

"Because you never could!" Veylira snapped.

Raveth stepped forward quickly, hand resting on the hilt at her side.

Lucindra’s gaze flicked again. "Ah. There’s the new woman. The replacement."

"She’s not a replacement," Malvoria growled. "She’s worthy."

Lucindra tilted her head. "Then what does that make me?"

Malvoria didn’t hesitate. "An error."

Silence.

Even the walls of the palace seemed to pulse under the weight of the statement.

Lucindra’s lips twitched. Her eyes narrowed. frёewebηovel.cѳm

"I see," she said softly. "So this is how it is. I return to find my daughters sharpening blades and my former lover tucked beneath another’s wing."

"You weren’t supposed to return at all," Veylira said, voice like frost.

Lucindra looked over her shoulder, toward the darkened ballroom. "So many gifts. So many symbols of power. She’s only two months old, and already they kneel."

"She’s earned it," Elysia said quietly, stepping beside Malvoria now, calm but unwavering.

Lucindra studied her. "The mortal."

"My wife," Malvoria corrected sharply.

"You’ve built quite the dynasty."

"And you won’t touch a single piece of it," Malvoria snapped.

Lucindra stared at her a moment longer.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

The room tensed again.

"I didn’t come just to watch," Lucindra said at last, her voice smooth and coiled. "I came to reclaim what’s mine."

Lara muttered something extremely profane.

Raveth’s hand gripped her blade tighter.

Malvoria narrowed her eyes. "And what’s that?"

Lucindra straightened, voice rising—loud, clear, and venom-sweet.

"I want to take the throne as the Demon Queen."

The silence that followed Lucindra’s proclamation was so total, it rang.

Malvoria didn’t move.

No one did.

Even the air around them seemed to harden.

"You want to take what?" Lara said, her voice cracking like a whip. "That’s a joke, right? A sick, suicidal joke."

Lucindra smiled, sharp and pleased. "Do I look like I’m laughing?"

"You abandoned the throne," Malvoria growled. "You gave up your claim when you ran with coin and cowardice."

"I didn’t renounce anything," Lucindra said, voice syrupy with menace. "There was no abdication. No declaration. No divorce. That means I am still, by law, Demon Queen Consort. And with Veylira no longer seated on the throne, and no formal successor crowned—"

"You think we’ll let you take it?" Malvoria snapped.

Lucindra’s eyes flared red.

"You think you can stop me?"

Raveth stepped forward, blade drawn, fast as lightning. "Let’s find out."

She didn’t make it halfway.

With a flick of Lucindra’s hand, a wave of crimson energy exploded through the room.

Elysia cried out.

Malvoria choked.

Her body locked instantly—muscles frozen, lungs straining, magic sputtering at the base of her spine. She tried to move, to call flame, to shield Kaelith, anything—but her limbs refused.

She could only watch.

Raveth stood mid-step, blade half-drawn, immobilized.

Lara, mouth open mid-insult, trapped in place.

Even Veylira—Veylira, who had never flinched from anything—stood paralyzed, fury carved into her face.

Lucindra walked through them, slow and smug.

She came to a stop in the center of the hall, where Kaelith’s empty cradle sat nestled in magic, unaware of the chaos swirling around her.

And she looked back at all of them—frozen, helpless.

"I’m the most powerful here," she said, voice quiet and cold. "Don’t forget that."