I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 177: You’re glowing tonight

The walk back toward the castle was quiet but not in a strained way.

The earlier weight, the one that had hung heavy in the air after she brought up Zera, had softened between them, like silk slowly loosening from around the throat.

There were no raised voices, no icy silences. Just the echo of their boots against the stone paths, and the quiet brush of Elysia’s shawl against Malvoria’s arm every now and then when she leaned too close to the hedges.

Malvoria had questions.

She always had questions.

But she’d learned slowly, painfully, through trial and error that Elysia needed space. Pressure made her sharp, defensive, prone to retreat. But patience? Patience invited honesty. Eventually.

So she walked beside her without prying. Without demanding.

Even though something in her gut told her that what happened earlier wasn’t just harmless fun or maid-induced chaos.

Elysia had been pale, jittery, her laughter a little too forced. She’d clutched Malvoria’s hand like it anchored her to the floor.

Something had happened.

Something important.

And Malvoria wanted to know what it was, yes but more than that, she wanted Elysia to choose to tell her.

Not because she was forced to.

But because she wanted to share it.

They stepped through the castle’s inner archway, the light in the halls now golden and flickering.

The sconces had been enchanted with soft, warming glows that mimicked sunset firelight. A recent addition, at Elysia’s request. Apparently "moody lighting" helped with relaxation and digestion.

Malvoria had pretended to roll her eyes at the suggestion.

But she hadn’t stopped the staff from implementing it.

She glanced sideways as they neared the dining room, watching Elysia adjust her shawl. Her profile was calm now, though faint sadness still lingered in the tight set of her mouth.

They reached the door, and one of the guards opened it without a word.

Inside, the long obsidian table gleamed beneath hanging crystal lights, the cutlery arranged with meticulous precision.

The scent of roasted spices, honeyed glaze, and warm bread met them instantly. The air felt rich, inviting.

And sitting at the far end, in a high-backed chair like she owned the entire continent because, frankly, she acted like she did was Malvoria’s mother.

Veylira.

Draped in deep navy and silver, wine glass in hand, smile already curling at the corners of her mouth the moment her gaze landed on them.

"Well," she said lightly, "look who finally decided to descend from their love nest."

Elysia blushed instantly.

Malvoria sighed. "Mother."

"What? I said nothing scandalous."

"You’re implying scandal by existing."

Veylira took a sip of her wine and waved her fingers at them like one might shoo a butterfly. "Come. Sit. The chefs outdid themselves tonight, and I’m not inclined to wait."

Malvoria guided Elysia to the seat beside her usual place, ignoring the amused look Veylira sent across the table.

Only the three of them. Again.

Thalor hadn’t shown up for dinner in almost two weeks.

Not since they returned from the mountain.

He hadn’t stormed off or made some dramatic proclamation. He’d simply... stopped coming.

He ate in his room, ignored summons, and only occasionally sent word to Elysia through terse little notes if at all.

It wasn’t surprising. Malvoria had expected it, in a way. The man wasn’t built to bend, and Elysia had changed. She wasn’t his perfect rebel princess anymore. She’d chosen someone else. Chosen here.

But even expecting it didn’t make it easier to watch the shadows slip behind Elysia’s eyes when she noticed his empty seat.

There was nothing Malvoria could say to fix it.

Nothing she could do to force Thalor out of his self-imposed exile.

And so, for now, she said nothing.

Instead, she focused on Elysia’s smile—the small one she offered the cook when the dishes were brought out.

Tonight, they had outdone themselves.

Plates of slow-roasted lamb with honey-glaze and crushed saffron. Delicate tarts filled with spiced vegetables and glazed figs.

Tiny bread rolls shaped like coiled serpents likely a nod to Malvoria’s sigil and warm mulled cider with notes of cinnamon and dark cherry.

Even Veylira looked impressed.

"Goodness," she said, lifting a piece of roasted fruit onto her plate, "did someone bribe the kitchen with forbidden gold?"

"They do respond well to compliments," Elysia offered.

Malvoria watched the way her wife’s fingers delicately pinched a corner of bread, how she smiled faintly when the jam oozed just right from the side.

There was something different about her tonight not just the quiet, but the way she seemed more aware of herself.

A hand lingering near her stomach. The slight shift in how she sat, as if she were protecting something delicate.

What are you not telling me, love?

Still, Malvoria said nothing.

She focused on the warmth of the food, the sound of Veylira humming to herself as she critiqued the texture of the rice, and the way the tension from the garden walk had faded into something gentler.

Dinner was calm. No arguments. No spies. No assassins or veiled threats. Just roast and bread and silence laced with occasional teasing.

It was almost unsettling how peaceful it felt.

Almost.

Halfway through the meal, Elysia caught her looking and arched a brow.

"What?" she whispered.

Malvoria leaned closer, speaking just under her breath. "You’re hiding something."

Elysia’s fork paused. "Am I?"

"You’re terrible at lying."

"I am great at lying. I once convinced a warlord I was a mute priestess."

Malvoria blinked. "What."

"Long story. Lots of scarves. Not important."

Malvoria tilted her head. "You’re deflecting again."

Elysia smiled sweetly. "Maybe."

"I could interrogate it out of you."

"You could try."

They locked eyes for a moment amused, soft, curious and then both turned back to their plates.

The rest of the meal passed in that warm haze. Veylira eventually wandered off, muttering something about an enchanted mirror shipment and a postponed duel invitation. Malvoria didn’t ask.

And when it was just the two of them again, sitting side by side beneath the low crystal lights, Malvoria finally reached for Elysia’s hand.

Cool. Steady.

She didn’t ask her to explain. freeweɓnøvel.com

Not yet.

But she would.

Soon.

For now, she just pressed their fingers together and said, softly, "You’re glowing tonight."

Elysia’s breath hitched.

Then she smiled.

But didn’t say why.