I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 169: I care about you

Elysia stepped into the dining room with the quiet hesitation of someone walking into a room already filled with arguments not yet spoken aloud.

The doors closed behind her with a muted thud. The air inside was warm, thick with spice and roasted meat, the low golden light from the chandeliers reflecting off polished obsidian walls.

The room was grand—far too much so for the five people it could comfortably seat. But tonight, only three places were filled.

Her eyes immediately found the one face that made the tension loosen around her spine.

Malvoria.

Seated at the long end of the table, angled slightly toward the door, as though she’d been waiting. She had changed.

She wore dark crimson tonight, the collar of her coat unbuttoned just enough to suggest comfort, not carelessness. Her braid had been redone, tighter than it had been earlier, and her gloves were tucked into the side of her belt.

But it was her eyes that made something shift in Elysia’s chest.

The second she entered, Malvoria smiled.

Not wide. Not performative. Just... soft. Like a secret shared across the length of the room.

Elysia exhaled slowly.

Across from Malvoria sat Thalor, already stiff-backed and unsmiling. His plate was untouched, and his eyes flicked up at her only once before returning to the silver rim of his goblet, as if he found more comfort in its reflection than her presence.

To his left, lounging with the grace of a woman who had long since made herself at home, was Veylira.

She greeted Elysia with a knowing smile and a small tilt of her wine glass—part amusement, part challenge, and just enough maternal menace to make Elysia wonder if she had also noticed the bruised flush on her collarbone from earlier.

But the seat to Malvoria’s right was empty.

Zera wasn’t here.

That absence struck harder than expected, a fist behind her ribs. Guilt warred with relief—because what could she have said, really? What words could she have strung together that wouldn’t crumble the moment they left her mouth?

"Elysia," Malvoria said, her voice low and warm, cutting through the noise of Elysia’s mind like a clean blade.

She looked up again.

Malvoria gestured subtly to the empty chair beside her.

Without speaking, without glancing at anyone else, Elysia crossed the room and took the seat.

As soon as she did, she felt Malvoria’s knee brush against hers under the table—just once, a small nudge, like the kind you’d give a stray cat to remind it you were still there. Elysia didn’t move away. Instead, she shifted just enough for their legs to rest together.

It was stupid. Subtle. Soft.

And it made something inside her unclench.

Dinner was served in quiet ceremony. Silver dishes appeared with a glimmer of enchantment, lids lifting themselves to reveal platters of roast game, fire-baked roots, bowls of spiced grain, and sauces that shimmered faintly with heat-activated magic.

Goblets refilled on their own, the wine a deep garnet red.

But Elysia barely tasted it.

Because the moment Malvoria leaned over and whispered, "You’re still flushed," it was over.

Elysia gave her a look. "Because of you."

Malvoria feigned innocence, lifting a bite of food to her lips. "I didn’t do anything."

"You did everything."

Malvoria smiled, and Elysia hated how much she liked it.

The sounds of cutlery and quiet sipping filled the space between them, but neither of them paid much attention.

Elysia glanced sideways every so often to find Malvoria already watching her, and Malvoria leaned just slightly too close each time they exchanged a comment, voice low and meant only for her.

At one point, Malvoria reached for her wine and let her fingers brush Elysia’s wrist.

Elysia stared at her for a second too long.

"I can’t believe we’re doing this with my father across the table," she murmured.

Malvoria’s lips curved upward, entirely unapologetic. "He can leave."

Elysia snorted, then quickly coughed to cover it.

Thalor’s eyes darted toward her at the sound, but he said nothing.

Veylira, however, raised a brow. "Something amusing, girls?"

Elysia straightened immediately. "No—nothing. Just... the wine. It’s stronger than I expected."

"Ah," Veylira said, swirling her glass. "It does tend to loosen the tongue. Among other things."

Malvoria shot her mother a warning look.

Veylira winked.

Elysia pressed her fingers to her lips and tried very hard not to laugh into her napkin.

The next several minutes passed in a rhythm that felt increasingly disconnected from the purpose of dinner.

Malvoria passed her a small plate of flame-glazed carrots without asking. Elysia returned the favor by leaning over to whisper that the roast was too dry, and Malvoria smirked as she carefully spooned extra sauce onto both their plates.

Thalor, silent through most of this, finally set down his goblet with a dull sound.

The room stilled for a moment.

"I think I’ve had enough," he said, rising.

Elysia looked up. "You’re leaving?"

Thalor’s expression was unreadable. "I don’t have much appetite left."

The weight of that statement sat awkwardly between them, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he turned without waiting for permission and walked out, cloak trailing behind him like a closing door.

The room was quieter after that.

Veylira took another sip of wine and said, "Well. That went better than expected."

Elysia dropped her forehead to her hand. "Please don’t start."

"I’m just saying," Veylira mused. "He didn’t accuse anyone of treason. That’s already more restraint than I expected."

Malvoria cleared her throat pointedly. "Mother."

Veylira chuckled, then stood, smoothing her sleeves with practiced elegance. "I’ll leave you two to... digest."

She glided out of the room with the air of someone who absolutely planned to interrogate her daughter later about all the unspoken tension humming between the cracks.

And just like that, they were alone.

The dining room, for all its scale and grandeur, suddenly felt small. Intimate.

The candlelight flickered low. The fire in the hearth crackled softly. The clink of utensils had faded into silence.

Elysia leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly.

"That was awful."

Malvoria tilted her head. "Was it?"

"Yes."

"I rather enjoyed it."

Elysia shot her a dry look. "You enjoyed the diplomatic collapse happening beside you?"

"No," Malvoria said, her eyes glinting. "I enjoyed you beside me."

That stopped Elysia cold.

She looked at her.

Malvoria didn’t flinch or deflect. Just met her gaze and let the words settle like a promise.

Elysia blinked once. Then again.

"Is that demon queen code for ’I like it when you insult your father during a formal meal’?" freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Malvoria shrugged. "I like it when you’re honest. Even when it causes minor political earthquakes."

"Minor?"

"Well," Malvoria added, reaching for her glass again, "depending on whether your father decides to declare holy war tomorrow."

Elysia sighed. "I’m sorry."

"For what?"

"For... bringing him here. For dragging you into this. For making you sit across from a man who still sees you as the enemy."

Malvoria paused.

Then, very deliberately, she reached out and covered Elysia’s hand with hers.

"I don’t care about your father," she said quietly. "I care about you."

Elysia swallowed.

The truth of it was too big to say anything back. So she didn’t. She just squeezed her hand and leaned a little closer until their foreheads touched.

They sat like that for a long time.

And for once, the castle was quiet.