I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 300: You’ve gone soft

Malvoria had grown accustomed to waiting.

It was a skill forged in battle and politics, in sleepless nights with Kaelith’s feverish cries, and in the hush that sometimes settled over the castle when Elysia wandered off to comfort another soul.

Tonight, she waited in their bedroom, moonlight spilling over stone floors and the soft, regular breathing of her daughter filling the room like a lullaby.

Kaelith had finally surrendered to sleep, sprawled sideways across her pillow like a tiny conqueror, fist wrapped around a stray piece of silk from Malvoria’s nightrobe.

Malvoria tucked the child in more securely and sat at the edge of the bed, lost in the quiet that came only when the day was truly finished.

She heard the footsteps before she heard the voice—soft at first, then increasingly insistent as the owner tried, and failed, to remain inconspicuous.

Malvoria rose, listening as the steps shuffled, hesitated, resumed, paused again, and then finally stopped in front of her door. She recognized the pattern instantly.

Lara.

There was a brief, hesitant knock—a rarity from her sister, who normally announced her presence by kicking open doors and shouting about swords, victory, or breakfast.

Malvoria cracked the door and peered out into the corridor. Lara stood there, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, looking for all the world like a child caught sneaking a midnight snack.

"Did someone die?" Malvoria asked, only half joking.

Lara grimaced. "Not yet, but give it time. Got a minute?"

Malvoria opened the door wider and gestured her inside.

Lara stepped in, still wearing her boots something she’d scold Kaelith for but never herself—and glanced once at the sleeping baby before slumping onto the low couch.

Malvoria folded her arms, eyebrow arched. "You look like someone about to confess a crime. Did you eat the last of the candied figs again?"

"Not this time," Lara muttered. "I left those for Kaelith. I’m not a monster."

"Debatable."

Lara shot her a look, but there was little heat in it. Instead, she dragged her hands through her hair, mussing it up even more than usual, and exhaled loudly.

"Spit it out," Malvoria said. "Before you wake the child."

Lara scowled. "Fine. I’m stressed, alright? And don’t you dare tell anyone, especially Veylira. She’ll start crowing about how she ’always knew’ I had a sensitive side and then make me meditate in the garden or something."

Malvoria smirked. "So, you’re stressed. That’s new."

"Shut up." Lara pulled her legs up onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees, looking entirely out of place—a rogue general disguised as a sulking teenager. "I just... This whole thing with Sarisa and the baby. Aliyah."

Malvoria nodded, letting her talk.

"I mean, she’s perfect, right?" Lara said, eyes wide. "Aliyah. She’s... I don’t know, she looks at me with those little demon eyes and I feel like I could punch the stars out of the sky for her. But I’m not—" She hesitated, then whispered, "I’m not sure I’ll be any good at this."

Malvoria sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her arms. "You do realize nobody’s ’good’ at motherhood? We’re all improvising."

"Yeah, but you’re you," Lara argued.

"You make it look easy. Veylira practically invented terrifying maternal competence. Even Sarisa, with all her highborn nerves and courtly perfection, she just... holds Aliyah and the world makes sense. Me? I’m one sneeze away from running off into the mountains."

Malvoria snorted. "You used to run from diaper changes."

"Because she bit me!" Lara shot back, eyes wide. "Your darling demon bit my hand when she was six months old. There were fangs. And drool."

"She was teething."

"She was feral," Lara muttered.

"And Sarisa wants to go back to the Celestian castle eventually. Says Aliyah should know both sides of her heritage." She paused to sigh.

"But you know what that means, right? That place is all silver columns and rules about which direction you can sneeze. The queen hates me. The high council hates me more. I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up chained to a pillar for improper fork usage."

Malvoria grinned, unable to help herself. "You do hold your fork like a battle-axe."

"It’s efficient!" Lara insisted, mock-offended.

"But you know what they’re like. It’s not just the queen. They’ll all look at Aliyah and see... I don’t know, a scandal. Half-blood. Proof that the great celestial line isn’t so pure anymore. And me? I’m just the demon who corrupted their perfect princess."

Malvoria slid down from the desk and sat beside her. "Sarisa chose you, not them."

Lara looked away. "Yeah, well. Sarisa chooses peace and harmony and moonlit walks and silent contemplation. I choose... chaos and bad decisions."

"That’s a lie and you know it."

Lara’s cheeks flushed. "Alright, maybe I’m not a complete disaster. But I don’t have feelings for her." She said this with a vehemence that made Malvoria want to laugh. "I mean, I do, but not, you know, feelings feelings."

Malvoria fixed her with a look. "So you’re not jealous when you see her with other people?"

"Nope," Lara said. "Not even a bit. She could date the Celestian librarian and I wouldn’t care. Actually, I’d be happy. I could get back to traveling, living free, you know? No attachments. Just me and the open road."

"Except you’re here," Malvoria pointed out. "Worrying about whether you’ll be a good mother. Worrying about losing them both."

Lara stared at her hands, stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze.

"It’s just... when they go back, I’ll have to follow. And I’ll be trapped. No more midnight runs, no more sparring in the rain. I’ll have to sit in court and pretend I care about the latest decree on robe colors. And Sarisa will become queen, or something, and I’ll just be... her problem."

Malvoria softened. She’d seen this fear before—in soldiers before battle, in herself before she’d let herself love Elysia.

"Lara," she said quietly.

"You’re not a problem. You’re not a prisoner. Sarisa wants you there because she wants you." Malvoria smiled at her sister.

"She doesn’t want a court lapdog or a perfect consort. She wants the person who made her laugh at three in the morning when Aliyah wouldn’t sleep. The one who stands up to her mother without blinking. The one who, despite all her talk about freedom, is here in this castle every night instead of running away."

Lara opened her mouth, closed it, then groaned and let her head fall back against the couch. "I hate when you’re right."

Malvoria smiled, nudging her with a shoulder. "You’ll figure it out. Just don’t set the Celestian nursery on fire."

"No promises," Lara muttered, but there was a spark of her old grin. "Besides, they should thank me. Demonic fire is a great deterrent for moths."

Malvoria laughed softly. "If Sarisa ever wants to go back, you’ll go with her. You’ll stand beside her. And when the court makes their little snide comments, you’ll glare at them until they forget how to speak."

Lara straightened a bit, emboldened by the image. "Yeah. And if anyone says anything bad about Aliyah, I’ll—"

"—set them on fire, I know," Malvoria finished. "It’s the family way."

The room fell into a comfortable silence.

"Do you ever think about running?" Lara asked suddenly. "Just... packing up and disappearing for a while?"

"Sometimes," Malvoria admitted. "But then I remember what I’d be leaving behind. And that’s always enough to make me stay."

Lara nodded, finally looking at her sister with gratitude and something else—maybe relief, maybe hope.

"Thanks," she said gruffly.

Malvoria squeezed her shoulder. "Anytime."

Just then, Kaelith stirred, snuffling in her sleep and muttering something about "cake."

Lara grinned. "She’s going to be a terror."

"She already is."

"And Aliyah will be worse. Double trouble."

"We wouldn’t have it any other way."

A few minutes later, Malvoria heard Elysia’s soft footsteps padding up the corridor. The door creaked open, and Elysia entered, rubbing sleep from her eyes—only to stop dead when she saw Lara slumped on the couch.

"Oh? Did the world end?" Elysia grinned, glancing between them. "Or have you come to raid the snack drawer and cry about your feelings at three in the morning?"

Lara groaned, pulling a pillow over her head. "No teasing, please. Not tonight. I’m fragile."

Malvoria smirked. "She’s serious. I think she might even mean it."

Elysia’s eyes widened with mock horror. "Should I fetch the healers? Or should I just write to Sarisa and tell her you’ve gone soft?"

"Try it and I’ll set your boots on fire," Lara mumbled, muffled by the pillow.

Elysia snorted, slipping past Malvoria to drop a kiss on Kaelith’s forehead before settling beside her on the bed. "She’s been up worrying about being a good mother," Malvoria explained, voice gentle now.

"Oh, love, is that all?" Elysia said, much softer, reaching out to squeeze Lara’s shoulder affectionately. "Welcome to the club. We have matching eye bags, but the snacks are worth it."

Lara let out a sigh, but a small, grateful smile escaped. "Just let me sulk in peace."

Malvoria exchanged a look with Elysia—one of those quiet, knowing glances that spoke volumes.