I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 261: Training

The training grounds at Saelira’s estate had always felt like something ancient left behind.

Smooth volcanic stone stretched out in a wide ring, veined with silver spell lines and fire-conducting runes.

Warding columns circled the space—eight in total—each carved with language that predated the Demon Kingdom itself. It was a sacred space. A place for honing power, not showmanship.

And today, Malvoria had no patience for showmanship.

She stood at one end of the ring, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—yet completely aware that she hadn’t heard a word Lara had been saying for the past five minutes.

Because Elysia was stretching.

Wearing that combination outfit.

Gods, why.

It wasn’t even supposed to be that attractive—it was black, simple, made for mobility. But on Elysia, with her hair pulled back and the sunlight catching the red flame glints in her eyes, she looked like something conjured from Malvoria’s darkest, most treasured dreams. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

And then Elysia bent to check her boots and—nope.

Nope.

Focus.

Malvoria cleared her throat, snapped her attention to the task at hand, and ignored the very loud part of her brain currently composing odes to her wife’s lower back.

Behind them, Lara had settled on a nearby stone bench, Kaelith perched in her lap like an empress.

The baby was wide awake, eyes tracking every movement with laser precision while gleefully tugging at Lara’s hair with the tenacity of a war general.

Lara winced as Kaelith got a firm grip. "She’s enjoying this way too much."

"You wanted to hold her," Malvoria called without looking back.

"I didn’t realize she came with built-in scalp combat."

Malvoria smirked, but didn’t let herself be pulled into the distraction. Not now.

She stepped into the center of the circle and beckoned Elysia forward.

"Alright. Let’s begin."

Elysia joined her with a confident stride, the soles of her boots brushing the runes etched into the stone. "You sure this is safe?"

"No," Malvoria said. "But nothing about real magic ever is."

Elysia tilted her head. "I meant for you. You’re asking me to aim fire at you."

"I’ve had worse things aimed at me." Malvoria raised a brow. "And you’re not just aiming fire. You’re learning to command it."

Elysia took a deep breath, nodding. "Okay. What do you want me to do first?"

"Hit me."

Elysia blinked. "I’m sorry?"

Malvoria spread her arms. "Hit me. With your fire."

Elysia stared. "You just want me to... throw fire at you?"

"Yes."

"I—what if I hurt you?"

"You won’t."

"You don’t know that."

"I do." Malvoria stepped closer, her expression now serious. "Because I trust you. Because you need to feel what it’s like to direct your magic at someone who won’t crumble under it. You need to stop fearing it."

Elysia hesitated. "I don’t even know how to call it on command yet. It just happens."

"Then let it happen."

"I could burn you."

"You won’t."

There was something fierce in her tone—not arrogant. Not foolish. But solid. Belief that went bone-deep.

Elysia looked down at her hands. "Okay. I’ll try."

Malvoria stepped back, giving her space. "Good. Focus. Feel it. You’ve seen it happen when you’re afraid or protective. So think of something worth protecting."

Elysia’s eyes flicked toward Kaelith briefly—just a glance.

And that was enough.

The air changed.

A shimmer began to rise from her fingers—red, flickering, and uncertain. Not flames yet, but the scent of heat bloomed in the space between them.

Malvoria braced herself.

Elysia’s brow furrowed as she focused, and then—whoom—a pulse of red fire burst from her palm. It flew forward, more instinct than precision, a ribbon of hot light spiraling wildly toward Malvoria’s chest.

Malvoria caught it.

Literally.

Her palm closed around the stream of fire, condensing it into a ball of flickering energy. It hissed against her skin but didn’t burn.

She smiled, a little proudly. "Not bad."

Elysia was panting lightly. "That wasn’t controlled."

"No, but it was honest." Malvoria extinguished the fire in her hand. "And you didn’t miss."

"I wasn’t trying to aim."

"But your heart did."

Elysia gave a small, breathless laugh. "That’s the corniest thing you’ve ever said."

Malvoria took a step forward. "You want corny? That was barely romantic."

"Let’s stay focused."

"Very well." She gestured for another round. "Again."

They repeated the exercise—this time, Malvoria asked her to form a shape. "Give it form. Intention. It’s not just about power. It’s about shape."

The second try was a little tighter. A little brighter.

The third time, it hit the stone at Malvoria’s feet and carved a smoking line along a rune.

"She’s learning fast," Lara called.

"She cheated," Malvoria said, brushing ash from her boot. "That one had a temper."

Elysia smirked. "I imagined someone threatening Kaelith."

"Ah. That would explain the scorch mark."

They trained for nearly an hour—Elysia sweating, hair clinging to her temple, breath heavy but focused. Her fire grew more stable with each attempt. Less wild. More responsive.

And every time she stumbled, Malvoria was there—catching the fire, turning it aside, steadying her stance.

"Don’t fight it," she said after a misfire singed the ground. "You’re not forcing it. You’re inviting it."

Elysia wiped her brow. "You make it sound like I’m coaxing a cat."

"Magic is a cat. Moody, temperamental, and ready to ruin your day unless you respect it."

Elysia laughed. "That explains Kaelith."

As if on cue, the baby shrieked gleefully and yanked a tuft of Lara’s hair so hard Lara nearly tipped off the bench.

Malvoria didn’t look. She had eyes only for Elysia.

"You’re doing well," she said softly.

Elysia looked at her, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. "You mean that?"

"I do."

The wind picked up slightly across the training ground, stirring embers from the cracked runes.

Malvoria stepped closer again, voice quiet. "Let’s try something more focused. A beam. A line. Straight from your core."

Elysia nodded, steadier now. "Okay."

She lifted her hand again, closed her eyes, and took one deep breath.

The fire that came this time was thinner. Sharper. And it stopped just before touching Malvoria’s chest held by her will, hovering in midair like a blade of molten glass.

Malvoria met her wife’s gaze and grinned.

"Great," she said, low and warm.

"Let’s continue now."