I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 267: We have to win

The war room was quiet now.

The echoes of voices and shifting maps had faded, leaving only the faint hum of protective magic woven through the stone walls.

The air was still heavy with the scent of old parchment, burning candles, and the sharper, colder taste of battle plans that hadn’t yet seen blood—but would, soon.

Malvoria remained standing at the head of the table, her hands planted firmly on the cold onyx surface, her eyes scanning the maps even though she already knew them by heart.

Every route.

Every weak point.

Every risk.

She had replayed it all over and over in her mind until it was etched into her bones:Veylira, distracting Lucindra.Lara and Raveth, slipping inside like shadows.Herself and Elysia, striking the heart.

It was a perfect plan.

At least, as perfect as any plan could be against a woman like Lucindra.

Still... even perfect plans cracked under pressure. Even the sharpest swords could break.

And now that she stood alone in the quiet, the weight of what they were attempting pressed harder against her chest.

Failure wasn’t just death this time.

Failure was Kaelith growing up without her mothers.

Failure was Elysia’s laughter silenced.

Failure was losing everything she had built with blood, fire, and stubborn, desperate hope.

Malvoria closed her eyes, breathing out slowly through her nose.

We must win, she thought fiercely.There is no other option.

A soft shuffle of footsteps behind her broke the heavy silence.

Before she could turn, she felt it—a familiar warmth pressing against her back. Slim arms slid around her waist, gentle but certain, grounding her with a single touch.

Elysia.

Malvoria let herself lean back into the embrace, closing her eyes again, this time for something better than cold calculation.

"You’re thinking too hard," Elysia murmured against her spine, her voice low and steady.

Malvoria huffed a short, breathless laugh. "It’s necessary."

"It’s exhausting," Elysia countered. "You don’t have to carry it alone."

Malvoria opened her eyes slowly, lifting one hand to cover Elysia’s where it rested against her stomach. Her fingers curled tightly around hers, savoring the simple, solid reality of her.

"You’re here," Malvoria said quietly. "So I’m not alone."

"Always," Elysia whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment—just breathing, the tension easing fraction by fraction as Elysia’s warmth bled into her skin.

Finally, Malvoria turned within the circle of Elysia’s arms, facing her fully.

The sight nearly stole her breath.

Elysia’s silver hair was loose around her shoulders, still faintly damp from the earlier shower, her violet eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

There was a stubborn determination there that mirrored Malvoria’s own, tempered by a tenderness that Malvoria sometimes still didn’t know how to deserve.

Malvoria lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw with a touch far gentler than any blade she had ever wielded.

"You’re too good for me," she murmured.

Elysia smiled, tilting her head into her palm. "I’m exactly right for you. And you’re exactly right for me."

Malvoria let out a low, helpless sound and bent to kiss her.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the rare luxury of time.

Elysia’s mouth was soft and warm under hers, tasting faintly of sweet wine and something indefinably Elysia—a flavor that Malvoria would chase across lifetimes if she had to.

The kiss deepened, grew fiercer.

Hands slid over bodies still taut with leftover tension, soothing, grounding.

Elysia’s fingers curled in Malvoria’s half-undone jacket, pulling her closer, anchoring them together in the dim hush of the room.

Malvoria kissed her like a drowning woman reaching for the shore—and Elysia kissed her back like she was willing to burn the ocean itself to keep her afloat.

When they finally broke apart, they remained close, foreheads touching, breathing each other in.

"I believe it’ll work," Elysia said softly. "The plan. Us. All of it."

Malvoria stared at her, searching her face for doubt—and finding none.

Not blind faith.

Not naivety.

Just trust.

Trust in her. In them.

It undid her more thoroughly than any battle ever had.

"You really believe it," Malvoria whispered, a little awed.

"I do." Elysia’s arms tightened around her. "And not because it’s easy. Or because it’s safe. But because we’re stronger than fear. Stronger together."

Malvoria closed her eyes again, overwhelmed by the fierce, aching love swelling inside her chest.

"Strong enough," she said roughly, "to protect Kaelith. To reclaim what’s ours."

"Strong enough," Elysia agreed.

They stood there a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms as if shielding themselves from the storm still waiting to break outside these walls.

Malvoria finally pressed another kiss, softer this time to Elysia’s forehead, lingering there, breathing her in.

When she spoke again, her voice shook just slightly with the force of it:

"I love you," Malvoria whispered, "and our daughter so much."

She pulled back just enough to meet Elysia’s unwavering gaze.

"We have to win."

Elysia smiled at her—steady, fearless—and leaned in to kiss her again.

The kiss this time was lighter, playful, her lips brushing against Malvoria’s with a teasing slowness that made Malvoria’s hands tighten instinctively around her waist.

Malvoria let out a low growl against her mouth, half-threatening, half-amused. "Keep that up," she murmured, trailing her fingers up Elysia’s spine, "and we’ll end up planning for a second child sooner than expected."

Elysia pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow at her, the faintest smirk curling her lips. "Oh? Planning already, are we?"

Malvoria’s grin turned wicked. "Not planning, no. But someone’s making it very difficult to think about anything else."

Elysia’s cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, she stood on tiptoe to whisper into Malvoria’s ear, "Maybe you should focus harder then, Your Majesty."

Malvoria’s laugh rumbled low in her chest, the sound vibrating through both of them.

She tightened her grip and spun them gently, pressing Elysia back against the edge of the table, the maps crinkling slightly under the shift of weight.

"I am focused," Malvoria said, voice rough and full of amusement. "Focused on exactly the wrong things."

Elysia giggled—an actual, delighted giggle—and the sound made something warm and reckless unfurl inside Malvoria.

"You’re dangerous," Malvoria said seriously, brushing a strand of silver hair behind Elysia’s ear. "You and that smile of yours."

"And you," Elysia said, poking Malvoria’s chest lightly, "are supposed to be the responsible one."

Malvoria raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since someone decided to be a queen," Elysia teased, poking her again.

Malvoria caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, a slow, reverent press of lips to skin.

Elysia faltered, her teasing grin softening into something far sweeter, more fragile.

Malvoria could have stayed like that forever, just holding her, teasing her, protecting her from everything that waited beyond these walls.

But time was never kind, and the world outside didn’t pause for stolen moments.

Still, this was theirs.

For now.

Elysia seemed to sense her shifting thoughts and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you really think... we could have another?"

Malvoria blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden earnestness.

"A second child?" she asked, voice gentling.

Elysia nodded, tucking herself more firmly against Malvoria’s chest. "One day. After this is all over. After Kaelith is safe."

Malvoria closed her arms around her, resting her chin lightly atop Elysia’s head.

The thought was dangerous.

Reckless.

Hopeful.

The kind of dream she never used to let herself have—not in the days when her life was blood and blades and loneliness.

But now... now she had something worth fighting for.

Someone worth building a future with.

And Kaelith, bright and wild and perfect, a living reminder that even in a broken world, something beautiful could still grow.

"Yes," Malvoria said softly. "One day, we will."

Elysia relaxed against her, her body humming with quiet happiness.

"Though," Malvoria added wickedly, tilting her head to nip lightly at Elysia’s ear, "at the rate you’re going, it might be sooner than you think."

Elysia squeaked and swatted at her, laughing breathlessly.

"Malvoria!" Elysia yelped, half laughing, half scandalized.

But Malvoria wasn’t finished.

She swooped in mercilessly, pressing quick, playful kisses across Elysia’s cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose—anywhere she could reach before Elysia could wriggle away. Each kiss was punctuated by a low chuckle, vibrating warmly between them.

Elysia tried to look stern, tried to glare—but it was impossible with Malvoria holding her so tightly, grinning like a wicked dragon who had found the greatest treasure in the world.

"Stop!" Elysia said, breathless, swatting at her again, though she clung just as fiercely to Malvoria’s shoulders.

"Never," Malvoria growled happily, and pulled her into a crushing hug, lifting her slightly off the floor.

Elysia squeaked again but melted into her embrace, laughing against Malvoria’s collarbone.

For a heartbeat, there was only warmth, the quiet thud of hearts beating in sync, the feeling of being completely safe even with the storm gathering outside.

And then—

A sharp, loud wail echoed down the corridor.

Both of them stiffened.

Moments later, the door opened, and Lara poked her head in, looking harassed, with a wailing Kaelith squirming violently in her arms.

"Help," Lara said simply, marching inside. "She wants her mommies."

Malvoria sighed dramatically and released Elysia, who was already reaching out for their daughter with a tender smile.

"Saved by the queen," Elysia whispered teasingly.