I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 277: Five minutes before we move

Twenty minutes.

That was how long it had been since Veylira vanished behind the gates, heels clicking like war drums in disguise.

And not a word since.

Malvoria crouched atop the jagged ridge overlooking the citadel courtyard, her armor dark against the blackened rock, the wind tugging at the edges of her crimson cloak.

From this vantage point, she could just make out the movements near the outer gate. Guards occasionally shifted. A patrol walked the walls. But no alarm had been raised.

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Beside her, Elysia crouched silently, her eyes sharp and unreadable. The only sign of tension in her was the faint flick of her fingers along her thigh, tapping out a pattern too subtle for anyone else to catch.

Malvoria respected the control.

She herself was less composed.

Inside, her thoughts churned like molten steel. She trusted Veylira—of course she did. Her mother had raised her to survive, to deceive when needed, to play with hearts and blades alike.

But Lucindra had once been more than just a mistake in their bloodline. She had once known how to wound Veylira with love.

And wounds like that had a way of festering open in moments of weakness.

Malvoria’s jaw clenched. She refused to consider the possibility that Lucindra could still reach her mother.

Behind them, Raveth was pacing.

Not quietly.

Not at all.

Every other footfall kicked up gravel. Her armor creaked. Her tail lashed.

Malvoria finally turned her head. "You’re making noise."

"She’s making me mad," Raveth growled.

Malvoria arched a brow. "It’s been twenty minutes. What did you expect? That Lucindra would fall unconscious the moment Veylira batted her lashes?"

"She better not bat anything else," Raveth snapped.

Elysia turned, barely concealing a smirk. "Jealousy doesn’t suit you, commander."

"I am not jealous."

Lara, who was reclined on a sun-warmed rock with her arms folded behind her head, whistled low. "You kind of are, though. It’s cute."

"I will impale you," Raveth muttered.

"Better aim for something useful this time," Lara replied, grinning.

Malvoria let their banter drift. She didn’t mind it—better this than silence. Better than the stifling weight of waiting, doing nothing.

She felt the tension creeping higher with each breath. Twenty minutes meant one of three things: Veylira had failed, Veylira was dead, or Veylira had succeeded too well.

Elysia reached into her belt and pulled out a small, rune-carved device—a whisper crystal linked directly to the others through a shared enchantment.

She handed it to Malvoria without a word.

Malvoria pressed it to her ear.

Nothing.

Only static.

Then—click.

And Veylira’s voice, smooth and silk-sharp, slipped through the enchantment.

"Lucindra is down."

That was all she said.

But it was enough.

Raveth stopped moving.

Lara bolted upright, eyes glittering.

Malvoria inhaled deeply. "It’s time."

Raveth’s expression had shifted. All the jealousy melted away into pure, honed rage. Her hand gripped the hilt of her glaive as if she meant to drag it through every wall in the castle.

She gave Malvoria a single curt nod, then turned on her heel and started toward the edge of the ridge.

Lara didn’t move yet. She studied her sister with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Is this really happening?" she asked, voice quiet.

"Yes," Malvoria said. "Go."

Lara grinned. "Finally."

She sprinted after Raveth, hopping down the jagged slope like it was a game. Her twin blades shimmered in the early morning light, eager for chaos.

Malvoria watched them vanish into the dark paths that led to the western gate. The second wave had begun.

Elysia stood beside her, whisper crystal still in hand. "We’ll give them five minutes before we move."

Malvoria nodded, jaw tight.

She could feel it now, magic tightening in the air like a drawn bowstring.

Lucindra’s influence was everywhere, soaked into the stone and air of the castle, and yet it didn’t feel invincible anymore. It felt brittle. Cracked.

The moment Veylira had said those words Lucindra is down Malvoria’s heart had clenched with something raw and furious. Triumph. And something darker.

This was for Kaelith.

This was for every night she’d spent wondering why her other mother had left. For every look of pain Veylira never let them see.

For every lie Malvoria had been forced to live with to protect a crumbling name.

Lucindra had chosen exile.

Now she would taste war.

Malvoria stared down at the castle, fingers brushing the hilt of her blade.

Five minutes.

Then it would be her turn.

---

Raveth had not said a word in over a minute.

Lara considered this a minor miracle.

Not because she disliked Raveth’s voice—gods, no. Raveth’s voice was like thunder in a bottle. But when that thunder went silent, it meant something was about to die.

The two of them crouched behind a low wall of collapsed stone just beneath the western battlements.

Above, the guards patrolled with the bored rhythm of men who didn’t expect war before breakfast.

Poor bastards.

Lara turned her head toward Raveth. "Ready?"

Raveth didn’t look at her.

She just said: "I’m going first."

Lara held up her hands in mock surrender. "Sure, Commander. All yours."

She didn’t mention the fire Raveth was trying to hide—the storm in her shoulders, the tight grip on her weapon. It wasn’t just battle rage. It was personal. She didn’t need to ask why.

Lucindra had once been Raveth’s commander, too.

And for a long time, something more.

Not love. Not quite. But Lara had seen the way Raveth used to look at her—like she was the war and the banner beneath it.

Like she could never quite forgive herself for following someone who’d abandoned the people they were sworn to protect.

Now, with Veylira so close to Lucindra again... well.

That was a blade in Raveth’s ribs no one else could see.

Lara waited until Raveth gave the signal two quick taps on the stone.

Then they moved.

Raveth was a shadow, silent and brutal. Her glaive spun in a silver arc, slicing through the first sentry’s neck before his mouth could open.

Lara followed behind, both blades flashing in elegant tandem, a dance of steel and crimson.

They climbed the battlements like smoke, dispatching guards with ruthless efficiency. Alarms hadn’t rung yet. Good.

That meant Lucindra’s magic was still thin from the poison. The whole castle would be sluggish. Fogged. Perfect.

They slipped through the outer gate, vanishing into the inner corridors.

The citadel had not expected an invasion.

And that was its fatal mistake.

Back on the ridge, Malvoria stood as the sun began to rise higher, spilling gold across the stone like spilled blood.

She could feel it—Raveth and Lara had entered the west wing. No sirens. No wards triggered.

Yet.

"Time?" she asked.

Elysia checked the crystal. "Three minutes since the signal."

"Close enough," Malvoria muttered.

She turned toward the hidden path winding down toward the inner walls. It was narrow, flanked by basalt pillars that had long since crumbled into ruin. A secret corridor only the bloodline knew.

Elysia followed.

They moved without speaking, steps soft but sure. Each curve of the trail brought them closer to the central tower—the throne room. And just beneath it: Lucindra’s chambers.

Malvoria’s heart thundered with every step.

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

This was what she had waited for. This was the moment they would tear the rot from their home, reclaim their legacy, and remind every trembling noble who the true queens were.

At the base of the tower, Malvoria paused.

She turned to Elysia, eyes fierce.

"Ready?"

Elysia reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Always."

Together, they stepped through the final archway.

And behind them, the first explosion rocked the western wall.