I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 167: She’s not in danger

Malvoria stood in the middle of the corridor, jaw tight, hands half-curled at her sides, staring at the heavy doors that had just closed behind Elysia and her father.

Thalor hadn’t looked pleased. No—furious was more like it. That barely masked tension in his shoulders, the way he looked at Elysia like she was some fragile artifact he’d lost and just recovered... or worse, a weapon aimed somewhere unfamiliar.

There’d been no affection in his tone. Just sharpness. Guarded frustration.

Malvoria didn’t like it.

She hadn’t liked it from the second he appeared.

She shifted, took one step forward, and was ready to follow them, consequences be damned, when a hand settled on her shoulder.

"Let him," said a familiar voice, soft but firm. "I don’t think he’ll harm his own daughter."

Malvoria turned her head slightly. Veylira’s pale eyes held hers with the ease of someone who’d already anticipated every possible outcome.

"She’s not in danger," her mother added. "She’s just about to get very, very annoyed."

Malvoria exhaled slowly, a puff of air through her nose. "I saw his face."

"I did too. I also remember the time you nearly set the war room on fire because someone called you ’emotional.’ You don’t need to step in every time someone breathes wrong near her."

Malvoria grimaced. "He’s not just breathing wrong. He’s glaring wrong."

Veylira smirked. "And yet, somehow, she still walked in with him willingly. She’s tougher than you think."

That truth settled into Malvoria’s chest with a familiar ache. She knew Elysia was strong. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was what that strength was about to collide with.

Veylira gently turned her by the arm. "Besides, someone’s waiting in your office."

Malvoria frowned. "Who?"

"One of yours. Tall, quiet, wears too much leather and smells like shadows."

Malvoria’s brows rose. "Ah. Nyrae."

"Didn’t catch her name," Veylira said airily. "But she made the steward jump twice just by blinking."

Malvoria gave a soft grunt. "That’s her."

They walked side by side through the hallway, past the familiar dark stone walls now interrupted by vases of pink and beige roses.

Malvoria had almost stopped noticing them—almost—but they brushed her peripheral vision with stubborn cheer every time she passed.

After a moment, Veylira spoke again.

"So... the hike."

Malvoria didn’t answer.

Her mother’s grin widened. "Did it involve camping? Star-gazing? Inappropriate amounts of body heat?"

Malvoria side-eyed her. "Mother."

"I’m just asking if the mountain air was... invigorating."

Malvoria tried to keep walking. Veylira matched her step for step.

"Did my advice work?"

"What advice?"

"Oh, don’t play coy," Veylira said with mock outrage. "The one about telling her how you feel."

Malvoria huffed. "Yes. Your advice was... effective."

Veylira beamed like she’d just won a diplomatic battle. "Ah, finally. A victory I can brag about at dinner."

"I’d appreciate if you didn’t."

"No promises."

Malvoria stopped in front of her office door and turned to face her. "Thank you," she said, voice low.

Veylira’s eyes softened slightly, the amusement flickering into something warmer. "Of course. But you should know... you’re smiling more lately."

"I am not."

"You are. It’s strange. You’ll confuse the staff."

Malvoria didn’t have a retort ready.

So Veylira leaned in, kissed her cheek, and said, "Good luck," before disappearing down the hall with the ghostlike grace of someone who knew exactly when to leave.

Malvoria inhaled once and pushed open the door.

Her office greeted her with the scent of parchment and cedar oil. Shadows curled at the edges of the high-arched windows, the hearth in the far corner already lit.

The dark oak desk sat like an altar in the center of the room, papers stacked neatly beside obsidian inkpots.

And leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, boots scuffed from travel, was Nyrae.

She straightened the moment Malvoria entered and dipped her head in a low, silent bow.

"Your Majesty," she said.

Malvoria shut the door behind her, locking it with a subtle flick of her fingers. "Report."

Nyrae stepped forward, her tone clipped but steady. "I’ve followed her movements closely for the past months."

Malvoria moved behind her desk, sitting down slowly, hands steepled in front of her. "Zera?"

"Yes."

Nyrae’s eyes were the color of soot—dull, unreadable, and trained like weapons.

"She’s been maintaining her position within the castle. Appears loyal. Respectful. No open defiance. But..." Nyrae hesitated, then continued, "she’s been seen leaving the castle twice—cloaked, alone. Once into the eastern woods. Once toward the outskirts of the city."

Malvoria frowned. "Purpose?"

"She met with a group of cloaked individuals. I couldn’t get close enough to hear the conversation without revealing myself. But based on insignia, body language, and the way they moved... I believe they’re part of the human rebel cell operating near the southern border."

Malvoria’s jaw tightened. "Are you sure?"

"Not yet. But they’re skilled. Disciplined. Not ordinary citizens."

"And Zera met them alone?"

"Yes."

Malvoria leaned back in her chair. "Was Elysia mentioned?"

"No audible confirmation. But I believe it’s related to her."

"Because?"

Nyrae hesitated, then said, "Zera looked... conflicted. Like someone trying to choose between two blades. She wasn’t angry. She was... uncertain."

Malvoria was quiet for a moment, fingers drumming against the edge of her desk.

"She’s dangerous," she said finally. "Not because she’s violent. Because she’s clever."

Nyrae nodded once. "I’ll keep observing."

"No. Pull back."

Nyrae blinked. "Majesty?"

"She’s might be starting to suspect she’s being watched. She’s too sharp not to notice a constant tail. Switch to distant observation. Use aerial scouts."

"Understood."

"Send me anything the moment it’s confirmed."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

With that, Nyrae bowed once more and walked toward the shadowed edge of the room. A soft gust of wind from the window signaled her exit—not through the door, but the hidden passage built into the stone.

Malvoria sat alone again.

Her mind was already calculating—Zera, rebels, Elysia, the treaty, the throne. Every move mattered now. Every heartbeat echoed with consequences.

And then—loud footsteps.

Rapid.

Angry.

She looked up just as the door burst open, slamming against the stone wall.

Elysia stood there.

Her eyes burning with fury.

Her mouth drawn in a tight line.

And Malvoria, queen of demons, master of shadows, conqueror of a thousand cities—

Felt the faintest flicker of dread.freewebnσvel.cøm