I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 276: Mission seduction successful

The castle had not changed.

The moment Veylira stepped through the gate, she was assaulted by the scent of old stone and faint lilac oil a signature Lucindra had always insisted upon, claiming it disguised the scent of blood in the corridors.

But blood was still here. It clung to the walls like memories. It breathed through the arches, thick and unseen, just like the betrayal still nestled in Veylira’s chest.

Ten years.

Ten years since Lucindra walked out of this castle with half the treasury and not a single backward glance.

Ten years since Veylira had stood in this same courtyard, surrounded by confused guards and crying daughters, and realized she would have to raise them alone.

And now the prodigal queen wanted her throne back.

Veylira smiled to herself, letting her heels click deliberately against the blackened marble. Each step echoed with intention.

She knew eyes were watching from the balconies above, from the shadowed windows. Lucindra had rebuilt a court of strangers, flatterers, and creatures who didn’t know what true danger looked like.

But Veylira did.

She was the danger.

She didn’t rush. The corridor ahead stretched long, curving inward like the throat of a beast, lined with flickering torches and velvet banners, Lucindra’s new crest embroidered in obsidian and gold. A snake devouring its own tail.

Fitting.

At the far end stood a pair of golden doors carved with shifting sigils Lucindra’s audience chamber. Two guards stepped forward, weapons crossed.

One of them looked young enough to still smell of ink and inked training seals.

Veylira offered a smirk. "Tell your queen that her first love is here."

They didn’t move.

She stepped closer, voice lowering to something warm and velveted. "If she’s half the woman she used to be, she won’t want to keep me waiting."

One of the guards flushed. The other knocked once on the door, magic humming beneath his knuckles.

A pause.

Then the doors creaked open.

The room was smaller than Veylira remembered more intimate, less throne room, more chamber of secrets.

The ceilings were lower, the furniture plush, and the fire crackling in the hearth cast shadows like claws along the walls.

And at the center of it, reclining on a curved chaise carved from onyx and draped in deep red silk—Lucindra.

Veylira paused on the threshold, letting the silence build.

Lucindra looked almost the same. Still regal, still cruelly beautiful. Her skin shimmered faintly under the firelight.

Only her eyes had changed.

They were softer now.

Still dangerous. Still gleaming with that same hunger. But softer.

"Veylira," she breathed.

The name left her mouth like a prayer.

Veylira stepped inside. "Lucindra."

Ten years. Ten years of absence, and still Lucindra could look at her like she was a lost relic—precious, unexpected, beloved.

It made Veylira want to laugh.

But she didn’t. She smiled, slow and secretive, and approached the chaise with the confident grace of someone who knew her every movement was being memorized.

"You’ve redecorated," she said, voice low and warm. "Though I suppose you always had a taste for excess."

Lucindra stood. Slowly. As if she feared the spell might break if she moved too quickly.

She came forward, hands half-raised, uncertain.

"Are you real?" she whispered. "Or did the gods decide to torture me properly today?"

"I’ve been accused of worse," Veylira replied.

Lucindra stopped a step away. Not touching. Not yet.

Her eyes were drinking Veylira in—her gown, her carefully coiled hair, the faint shimmer of venom-colored gloss on her lips.

"I didn’t think you’d come."

"I almost didn’t."

That was true.

Lucindra reached out, fingertips brushing Veylira’s arm, featherlight. Her touch was tentative, reverent, as if touching something sacred—or long dead.

"You haven’t changed," Lucindra murmured.

"Liar," Veylira said. "I’ve changed completely. I just do a better job of hiding it."

Lucindra’s expression flickered.

For a moment, something guilty flashed across her face. Veylira recognized it instantly.

She catalogued it, filed it away like a blade to be used later.

"You look beautiful," Lucindra said quietly.

"I always did."

Lucindra almost laughed, but it caught in her throat.

"I—" she tried again, swallowing hard. "I didn’t expect to see you again."

Veylira tilted her head. "And yet here I am."

She let silence stretch. Let the weight of ten years settle between them.

Lucindra finally stepped back and gestured toward the chaise. "Sit. Please."

Veylira glided into the seat, crossing her legs with effortless grace, her gown falling perfectly around her. She gave no sign of the tension coiled beneath her skin.

Lucindra poured wine from a decanter something dark and rich, smelling faintly of cherries and bloodroot. She handed Veylira a crystal glass and poured one for herself.

They clinked, soft as secrets.

"To reunions," Lucindra said.

Veylira sipped. Just enough to wet her lips.

Lucindra’s eyes were still on her. Devouring her.

"You haven’t asked why I came," Veylira said at last.

"I didn’t dare," Lucindra admitted. "If I asked, you might vanish."

"Do you really think me so fragile?"

"No." Lucindra’s voice dropped. "I think we are."

Veylira looked away, pretending to admire the fire.

The silence was longer now. Deeper.

Lucindra took a step closer, setting her glass down.

"I know what I did," she said. "Leaving. Taking the treasury. You have every right to hate me."

"I don’t hate you," Veylira said smoothly. "Not anymore."

Lucindra’s breath hitched.

"You... don’t?"

"I simply outgrew the emotion." Her smile sharpened. "Hatred is like wine—bitter if left too long to ferment."

Lucindra knelt before the chaise, hands sliding up the side, not quite touching Veylira’s thigh but close enough to feel the heat of her.

"I missed you," she said softly. "Every day. I thought about coming back. I thought about... everything."

"But you didn’t."

"No."

Veylira reached out and tucked a stray curl behind Lucindra’s ear. Her fingers brushed the demon queen’s jaw, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

"I thought about you too," she said.

She didn’t lie. She had thought about Lucindra. Every time she’d wiped a tear from Malvoria’s face. Every time she’d trained Lara to hold a blade.

Every time she’d gone to sleep in a cold bed and woken to the sound of war drums in her head.

Lucindra leaned into her touch.

"You feel real," she whispered.

Veylira leaned down, her lips grazing Lucindra’s cheek, then hovering just beside her ear.

"I am real," she breathed. "And so is the offer I bring."

Lucindra stilled.

"What offer?"

Veylira pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

"I don’t want a war," she said. "You and I... we’ve lost too much. I want peace."

Lucindra blinked, caught completely off guard.

"And I want a future."

Lucindra’s lips parted. "With me?"

Veylira let the question linger.

Then: "Wouldn’t it be something? To rule again. Together."

Lucindra rose slowly, visibly trying to keep her composure. She turned away, hands clenched at her sides, staring into the fire like it could give her courage.

"Do you mean it?" she asked at last.

Veylira stood as well. She stepped behind her, arms sliding around her waist. She rested her chin on Lucindra’s shoulder and exhaled slowly.

"I came to find out," she whispered.

Lucindra’s breath caught.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

She turned back, pressing her forehead to Veylira’s.

"I never stopped loving you," she said. "I know I’m not worth your forgiveness, but gods, if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my life—"

Veylira kissed her.

Slow. Intentional. Just long enough to ignite the embers. She felt Lucindra melt into it, the years collapsing, the need rising like a tide.

She pulled away just before it could deepen.

"Then prove it," she said. "Let me in." ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Lucindra blinked. "To what?"

"Your rooms."

A pause.

Then Lucindra nodded, breathless.

She led her out of the chamber, down a quiet hallway, lined with old paintings and the smell of spiced oils and polished wood. The guards here bowed deeply, clearly stunned.

Lucindra waved them off without a word.

The private quarters were just as Veylira remembered—high ceilings, velvet drapes, a four-poster bed that still creaked like it held too many memories.

The moment the door closed behind them, Lucindra turned to her with the hunger of a decade unsatisfied.

But Veylira pressed a hand gently to her chest.

"Let me pour you something stronger," she said. "To calm the nerves."

Lucindra blinked. "You brought something?"

Veylira smiled and removed a small flask from her belt—silver, elegant. The poison within was faint, subtle. It would slow Lucindra’s reflexes, cloud her thinking. Nothing fatal. Not yet.

Just enough.

She poured it into one of the crystal glasses.

Lucindra watched her, eyes still dazed with emotion.

Veylira turned, glass in hand, and said softly—

"Drink with me?"

Lucindra reached for it, fingertips brushing Veylira’s.

And took the glass.