I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 179: You corrupted our princess

Malvoria did not move.

Not right away.

She lay there in the dark, one arm around Elysia’s waist, her head tucked gently against Malvoria’s collarbone, her breath warm and even.

The fire in the hearth had dimmed to a quiet glow, the room wrapped in a thick silence that she hated to disturb.

It had taken them hours to reach this calm, this soft quiet—a pocket of peace carved from the chaos that ruled their lives.

And then the knocking had come.

The words that followed had stabbed through the warmth like a dagger of cold iron.

We have an emergency.

Malvoria closed her eyes for half a second.

Not even a full second.

Then she exhaled sharply and pulled her arm from beneath Elysia’s resting form.

"No," Elysia murmured, half-asleep, her hand tightening on Malvoria’s robe. "No, don’t go yet."

Malvoria bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to her temple. "I have to."

"You always have to." Elysia’s voice was barely a whisper now, equal parts pout and plea.

Malvoria smiled against her skin. "It’s part of the whole terrifying-demon-queen job description."

"I hate your job."

"I do too. Especially right now."

Another knock.

Urgent. Louder.

Malvoria sighed and stood.

The warmth of the blankets fled from her body at once, replaced by the cool night air and the heavier chill of responsibility.

She crossed the room in bare feet and pulled open the wardrobe, choosing a dark, fitted tunic with no decoration and combat-smooth trousers made from enchanted leather. Something she could move in. Command in.

She’d worn gowns to war councils and meetings with emissaries, but when it came to emergencies, she trusted only her boots and her blade.

She reached for her sword, belted it quickly around her waist, and stole one last look at the bed.

Elysia had turned, half-awake now, eyes bleary but focused.

"Be careful," she said, soft but firm.

Malvoria crossed the room and leaned over, kissing her slow and sure.

"I always am."

She left before she changed her mind.

The guard was still waiting in the hall, standing at rigid attention like he expected her to behead him just for knocking after curfew.

Malvoria raised a brow. "This had better not be about a burnt pie or a goat in the wine cellar."

"No, Your Majesty." He straightened. "It’s serious."

"Speak."

"A human appeared at the castle gates twenty minutes ago."

Malvoria’s jaw tightened slightly. "A lone one?"

"Yes. He claimed he wanted to see Princess Elysia."

That stopped her cold.

Elysia.

Her eyes narrowed. "Did he say his name?"

"No, Majesty. When the guards told him it was past hours and no summons had been issued, he became agitated. When we insisted he leave—"

Malvoria’s voice dropped. "What did he do?"

The guard shifted. "He stabbed one of ours."

Her fists clenched.

"He wasn’t aiming to kill," the guard added quickly. "The wound was shallow. Intentional. Controlled. But hostile."

"And where is he now?"

"In the dungeon. He surrendered without a fight after the first blow. Said he only came to speak with the Princess, but refused to say more."

Malvoria stood very still.

The corridor around them was quiet, thick with magic that hummed low beneath the stone. Her thoughts moved quickly—assessing the implications, the risk, the timing.

A human, here, at night, demanding to see Elysia? Hurting a guard to do it?

And now sitting in the dungeons, waiting.

Her stomach twisted with unease.

"Keep the dungeon sealed," she ordered. "No one speaks to him. No one opens his cell."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I’ll be down in ten minutes."

The guard bowed and vanished down the corridor, boots echoing against polished stone.

Malvoria stood alone for a moment, eyes fixed on the shadows at the end of the hallway.

Whoever this man was, he’d made a mistake.

And he was about to find out what happened to people who made mistakes near the throne.

Before heading to the dungeons, Malvoria diverted her steps toward her office.

She needed clarity. Even if only for a few minutes.

The heavy door swung open at her touch, the familiar scent of ink, wax, and parchment greeting her like an old cloak.

She closed the door behind her and let her fingers trail along the edge of her desk solid obsidian, carved with fine runes of protection and authority.

The single candle burning near the stack of reports flickered as she sat, her mind already racing.

Who was this man?

A soldier? A rebel? A spy?

He’d asked for Elysia by name. Refused to leave. Injured a guard, and still claimed he only came to speak.

That wasn’t casual desperation.

That was planned.

Which meant he wasn’t just some wanderer. He knew what he was doing—and he was willing to hurt someone to get what he wanted.

To get to her. freewēbnoveℓ.com

The thought made something coil low in Malvoria’s chest. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like anyone aiming themselves at Elysia like she was a point to be exploited. She’d fought too long and too hard to allow that now.

But she couldn’t just execute him. Not yet.

She needed information first.

Malvoria stood and walked to the mirrored cabinet at the far wall. It was locked with three spells and a rune sequence only she could speak.

With a flick of her wrist and a whisper of demonic syllables, the seals broke.

Inside, nestled among carefully arranged vials, sat a small bottle with a deep purple wax seal.

The truth serum.

She hadn’t used it in months not since a border dispute with the Celestial Dominion ended in shattered alliances and one particularly poetic betrayal.

She unsealed it carefully and tucked the vial into her belt pouch before relocking the cabinet. Then she straightened, swept her cloak from the chair, and exited the room.

The castle was quiet at this hour. The only movement was from the guards she passed every one of them saluting with precise efficiency.

They all knew where she was going. None of them asked questions.

The dungeons were two levels down and carved into the foundation of the castle itself old stone, dark magic, reinforced with every charm and curse her ancestors had devised.

The guards at the entrance bowed as she passed. The air grew heavier, more silent, with each step she descended. Her boots echoed like a threat.

The prisoner was in the second chamber on the left.

She paused just outside.

Then stepped in.

The man was slumped on the bench, wrists bound with rune-scarred cuffs, a faint sheen of blood on his shirt.

His hair was damp with sweat, face bruised, but his eyes were bright—too bright. The wild kind. Like someone who’d already decided what to believe and wouldn’t be moved by facts.

He looked up.

And the moment he saw her, his mouth twisted in fury.

"You," he spat, voice hoarse but fierce. "I don’t want to talk with that demon queen. You’re evil. You corrupted our princess!"

Malvoria did not blink.

She crossed the cell with unhurried grace, letting the weight of her silence settle between them like fog.

Then she crouched just outside his reach, one brow arching, voice low and controlled.

"Oh?" she said. "Do tell me more."