I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 297: She is one of us

The silence that followed the queen’s words wasn’t peace, exactly.

It was a hollow space. A room still echoing with thunder after the lightning had passed.

But it was quieter.

The tension no longer bit at the edges of Malvoria’s jaw. The walls didn’t feel like they were closing in.

The floor didn’t hum with defensive spells. And Sarisa, though she still clutched Aliyah close to her chest, was breathing more evenly now.

Lara stepped back once, then twice. Her hand lingered on Sarisa’s shoulder longer than necessary.

Then, almost reluctantly, she turned and murmured something under her breath.

It might’ve been "air," or "armor," or "gods, I need a drink," but Malvoria didn’t ask. She only nodded when Lara passed her and slipped through the side door.

Gone for now. But not absent.

The space she left behind was awkward.

The queen said nothing more. Sarisa adjusted the blanket over Aliyah’s horns, half out of habit, half out of instinct.

And Kaelith still perched on Malvoria’s hip, small and wiggly and very much herself—wriggled like she was made of determination.

"Down," she said.

Malvoria blinked. "Are you sure?"

Kaelith gave her a look that said: Did I stutter?

"Alright," Malvoria muttered, and set her daughter gently on the floor.

Kaelith stood. Wobbled. Recovered. Her tiny boots made soft taps on the polished stone as she toddled forward.

The queen raised an eyebrow. "Is she..."

"She walks," Malvoria said.

"She runs if you’re not paying attention," Elysia added, rising to shadow her just in case.

But Kaelith wasn’t running now.

No, she walked with great purpose across the length of the room her steps slow and deliberate, her eyes fixed on the bundle in Sarisa’s arms.

"Yah," she whispered.

Sarisa watched her come closer. Elysia stayed behind, alert but calm.

Kaelith reached the base of the cushioned bench and stopped. She looked up. Sarisa met her gaze and after a beat lowered herself slightly so that Kaelith could see better.

"Yah," Kaelith said again, this time louder, and reached out.

Aliyah shifted.

Tiny fingers curled in the air.

Kaelith reached farther slow, hesitant and her hand found Aliyah’s.

Two tiny hands. One with barely any coordination, the other too new to control itself. But they met.

And held.

Elysia drew in a quiet breath. Sarisa tilted her head, watching them with a softness that made something in Malvoria’s chest ache.

Aliyah blinked, red eyes fluttering. Kaelith smiled.

"Baby," she said proudly.

"Yes," Sarisa murmured. "That’s your cousin."

"Yah."

Aliyah gave the softest grunt of approval and gripped tighter.

Malvoria couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t the magic of it—though that was there, curling in the corners like starlight against velvet. It was the simplicity. The honesty.

Two souls meeting before language, before memory, before history could make it complicated.

Kaelith leaned forward and pressed her forehead gently against Aliyah’s.

The moment was clumsy. Adorable. Sacred.

No one said a word.

Even the queen remained still. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Then Kaelith pulled back, sat cross-legged at Sarisa’s feet, and simply watched, like a tiny guard determined to protect her newest person from the world.

Malvoria let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

She glanced toward the queen.

And to her surprise, the older woman was watching the girls, not with revulsion or fear—but with something quieter. Older. Heavier.

Memory.

"You were like that," the queen said, so softly that only Malvoria could hear her. "With your sister. The moment she was born, you never left her side."

Malvoria said nothing.

The queen didn’t look away. "And then she was taken."

There was no room for old wounds. Not now.

But still, Malvoria nodded. "This time, we protect them both."

"Yes," the queen murmured. "You will."

They stood in silence for a long moment. Watching the future sleepy, bright-eyed, and blissfully unaware wrapped in blankets and strange affection on the floor of a throne-less hall.

It should have been awkward.

But it wasn’t.

It was quiet.

Then, as if pulled by a force she couldn’t name, the queen turned to Malvoria.

"When is her birthday?"

Malvoria blinked.

"Kaelith?" she asked.

The queen nodded.

Elysia stepped forward, placing a hand on Kaelith’s shoulder.

"Two months from now."

The words floated gently in the warm air of the receiving hall, light enough, but carrying weight beneath them.

The Celestial Queen tilted her head, gaze settling back on Kaelith. The child had by now made herself quite comfortable on the carpet near Sarisa’s feet, legs kicked out in front of her, humming as she babbled, "Yah, yah," under her breath.

The queen’s lips pursed.

"And what," she asked with quiet precision, "are you planning for her birthday?"

Malvoria, still standing tall beside Elysia, answered before the question had fully finished settling. "A banquet. Just family. Close allies. Nothing too grand. She’s still small—she won’t remember the occasion, but it matters to us."

The queen gave a small, noncommittal hum, but Malvoria wasn’t finished.

"We were also considering introducing Aliyah at the same time. She’ll be two months old by then, strong enough for a brief appearance. Lara’s child deserves her place in the family."

The queen’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "You mean to present a half-demon child to the three realms... during a demon-hosted banquet?"

Malvoria’s jaw tightened. "We weren’t planning to broadcast it. This isn’t about politics. It’s about family."

"She has Celestial blood," the queen snapped, turning toward Sarisa now. "That means she belongs to us."

Sarisa straightened without a word, though her hand on Aliyah tightened slightly.

"She belongs to herself," Malvoria replied. "And right now, she’s in our arms, in our home, and in our lives. That’s what matters."

The queen’s shoulders drew back with glacial grace. "It would be a violation of custom. Of order. If the child is to be acknowledged publicly, it should be by Celestial rite. In our temple. With our words."

"And have her baptized by a priest who still thinks demonkind are corruption incarnate?" Malvoria said, voice rising ever so slightly. "Forgive me if I don’t trust your traditions."

Elysia stepped closer, keeping one arm loosely wrapped around Kaelith’s waist, voice still calm. "We’re not asking you to change your religion. We’re simply saying Aliyah deserves to be seen—for both sides of her."

The queen looked between them, first to Elysia, then to Malvoria, her lips pressed thin.

"She is my granddaughter," she said flatly. "That means something. To my people. To my court. She will not be paraded in a demon hall like a curiosity."

"She won’t be paraded," Malvoria snapped. "She’ll be welcomed. By people who actually care about her, not just the blood in her veins."

"Then present her in the Celestial capital."

"I’d rather set myself on fire."

"Do not speak to me of flames, demon queen," the Celestial Queen said, her voice suddenly sharp. "You think because your child is beautiful and your halls are redone in gold that you have reformed what you are?"

Malvoria stepped forward, fury crackling behind her eyes.

Sarisa stood, eyes narrowing.

Even Kaelith sensed the shift—her humming stopped, and she looked up, blinking at the tension.

"You dare question our intentions," Malvoria said, voice low, "when your own daughter chose to carry a child across the realms to be born here—because she knew we’d protect her. Because she wanted her child to grow up outside of your rules."

"She is one of us!"

"She is both."

Silence rang like steel between them.

And then—

"For god’s sake," Elysia muttered, voice cutting through the storm like a blade, "can you just calm down?"

Everyone turned toward her.

Kaelith giggled.

Elysia ran a hand down her face. "We’re not planning a coup. We’re not throwing the Celestial order into the abyss. We’re planning a birthday. For a baby. Who eats mangoes with her fists and thinks ’yah’ is a full sentence."

Kaelith nodded sagely. "Yah."

"Exactly," Elysia said. "Yah."

The queen opened her mouth.

"No," Elysia said, holding up a hand. "I don’t care if you’re technically a divine figure. I’ve been elbow-deep in flaming diapers for months. We are tired. You are stressed. And that—" she pointed to Aliyah—"is a perfect child who should not be treated like a pawn on a celestial chessboard."

Sarisa, stunned, stared at her for a beat—then slowly smiled.

Malvoria folded her arms.

Even the queen looked slightly taken aback.

"If it helps," Elysia added, "we can serve wine in silver goblets and sing a prayer in seven tones. But the moment you try to claim Aliyah like a political token, I swear I will throw cake at your high priest."

Kaelith, eyes wide, whispered, "Cake."

The room froze in a strange, breathless stillness. Even the queen blinked at the child’s earnest declaration, as if unsure whether to be offended, bemused, or... something else entirely.

Then, with the grace of someone who had long ago mastered the art of silent exits, the Celestial Queen rose.

"I will take my leave," she said coolly, smoothing her gown with a flick of her hand. "There is much to consider."

Sarisa inclined her head politely, though her expression remained unreadable. Lara, who had returned quietly during the argument, folded her arms with an arched brow that practically screamed good riddance.

The queen turned one last time to look at Aliyah—still sleeping, unaware of all the thunder around her.

Then she swept from the room.

As the doors shut behind her, a hush settled like falling dust.

Kaelith blinked.

"Cake?" she said again, hopeful.

Elysia sighed and ruffled her hair. "Yes, love. You’ll get cake. Lots of it."

Malvoria exhaled, finally allowing her shoulders to relax. "Well," she murmured, "that could’ve gone worse."

"I was one breath away from tossing a plate," Lara muttered.

"I still might," Veylira added from the back. "But only if it’s elegantly plated."