I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 158: Your heart is betraying you

The moment hung in soft suspension, like one of the drifting petals caught midair. Elysia stood motionless beneath the vast tree, the delicate pink leaves shimmering above her like a dream spun from stardust and memory.

The air itself felt different here—thicker with magic, sweeter somehow. She didn’t want to blink, afraid the vision might vanish.

Malvoria moved beside her, silent but present, and then—without any fanfare—she set a hand on Elysia’s back and gestured with her chin toward the soft clearing beneath the tree’s shadow.

The grass was impossibly lush, a silken carpet of green and violet threaded with blooming wildflowers.

In the center of it, a thick quilt had already been spread—cream and navy with gold embroidery at the edges, regal yet worn, like something lovingly preserved from childhood.

A woven basket rested beside it, sealed with thin leather straps, and two polished silver canteens sat nearby, catching the light like tiny stars.

"You brought all this?" Elysia asked, brows lifted.

Malvoria only shrugged, as if carrying a full picnic into the mountains like a domestic goddess-warrior hybrid wasn’t a big deal. "Teleportation spells have their uses."

Elysia’s mouth twitched. "You could’ve told me we were going on a picnic."

"I like surprises," Malvoria said simply, dropping to one knee and beginning to unpack.

She drew out neatly wrapped parcels: fresh bread still warm, soft goat cheese, olives in spiced oil, sun-dried tomatoes, crisp red apple slices glistening with dew.

Every item seemed chosen with care—nothing too heavy, nothing messy. There was even a folded linen napkin for each of them, embroidered with the same sigils that adorned Malvoria’s cloak.

Elysia sat slowly, adjusting the utility belt at her waist, not wanting to wrinkle the pristine setup.

The shade of the great heart tree cast a dappled pattern across her lap, pink and gold and white dancing like soft echoes of sunlight. Her eyes lifted again, drawn upward to the canopy.

She couldn’t stop staring.

The leaves shimmered like polished silk, each one gently curling at the edge, moving as if in rhythm with some deep pulse in the earth.

The color wasn’t just pink—it was every shade between rose and blush and coral, luminous and alive. Some had golden veins that flickered with light, others pulsed faintly like candle flames.

She tilted her head.

"Why are the leaves pink?" she asked at last, voice quiet, reverent.

Malvoria paused, her fingers midway through slicing the bread. She looked up, following Elysia’s gaze to the branches above.

Her expression softened—just a little.

"They weren’t always," she said. "At least, that’s what my mother told me."

Elysia turned toward her, curious.

Malvoria glanced back at the leaves, voice low and even.

"Long ago, the heart trees bloomed with silver leaves. But this one... changed. Couples started coming here. Lovers. They’d leave pieces of themselves—magic, promises, dreams. Some proposed here. Some just wanted to be close to something ancient, something that could remember them after they were gone."

Her fingers brushed against one of the runes carved into the trunk, barely grazing its surface. "Every time someone gave a part of their magic here in love, the tree changed. The silver turned pink, like the inside of a heart."

Elysia blinked. "That’s... beautiful."

Malvoria nodded. "It is."

She hesitated. Then: "My mother said Lucindra proposed to her here."

Elysia turned sharply. "Lucindra?"

A muscle jumped in Malvoria’s jaw, but she nodded again. "I didn’t believe it at first. Thought it was too... grand. Too symbolic. But she did. Right under this tree."

She looked away. "Still doesn’t make her less of a coward."

The words came out colder than intended, slicing the air briefly before dissipating like mist.

Elysia didn’t respond. She looked back at the canopy, the way the pink leaves caught the wind and fell with lazy grace.

The idea that they stood in a place layered with hundreds—maybe thousands—of memories... it stirred something in her chest.

Something warm.

They ate quietly after that.

The food was simple but good—savory, fresh, comforting. Elysia especially loved the way the cheese paired with the apples, and Malvoria, surprisingly, took a liking to the oil-soaked olives.

Occasionally, their eyes would meet across the picnic blanket. And every time it happened, Elysia felt something flutter behind her ribs, delicate and dangerous.

She finished last, leaning back on her hands, boots stretched toward the edge of the quilt. A soft breeze stirred her braid. Her limbs felt heavy in the best way, her body relaxed, her thoughts pleasantly distant.

Malvoria lay beside her, arm folded beneath her head, eyes half-lidded.

Elysia shifted slightly, found a spot where the sun fell in warm patches through the branches. She yawned—unexpected, sudden.

Malvoria didn’t say anything, but her gaze flicked to her.

"You can sleep if you want," she said, voice barely more than a breath.

"I don’t usually nap."

"You do today."

Elysia gave her a side glance, debating. But the warmth, the softness, the strange comfort of this place...

She lay down slowly, curling slightly on her side, her cheek resting against the folded linen of her sleeve.

The heartbeat of the earth pulsed beneath her.

She exhaled.

And the world drifted.

---

She woke to the sensation of fingers in her hair.

Gentle, slow, almost apologetic.

Her eyes opened halfway. Malvoria was leaning over her, her expression unreadable, her gloved hand delicately brushing through Elysia’s braid.

Between her fingers, a single pink leaf.

It had caught in the strands just above Elysia’s temple, and now it fluttered free into the breeze.

Elysia blinked again, still suspended in that hazy space between sleep and waking.

"...How long was I asleep?"

Malvoria’s hand paused, then fell away. "A few hours."

Elysia shifted upright, slowly. The world felt too quiet, too full of light. She rubbed her eyes, then looked up—and stopped.

Malvoria was still watching her.

Not like she usually did.

Not like the demon queen, proud and composed and sharp.

But something softer. Something more fragile.

The moment stretched.

And then—faint, barely there—Elysia heard it.

A heartbeat.

Not her own.

Malvoria’s.

And it was fast.

Louder than she expected, just beneath the quiet hum of the tree. She froze, listening.

But then she realized—

So was hers.

She swallowed.

The space between them had collapsed, somehow, in the time she’d slept. Their knees nearly touched, and the sunlight filtering through the tree painted their faces in fractured gold.

Malvoria didn’t speak at first. Her eyes, molten and intense, didn’t waver.

Then she tilted her head, her voice low and rough, like it had to be pulled from somewhere deep.

"Your heart is betraying you."

Elysia flinched—just slightly.

But her breath caught, and she didn’t look away.

"What makes you say that?"

Malvoria’s gaze dipped to her chest, then back up.

"You’re not running."

Elysia tried to scoff. "I’m not scared."

"I didn’t say you were." Malvoria’s voice softened. "But you used to avoid this."

"This?"

"Me."

Silence.

The leaves rustled faintly overhead, a thousand tiny murmurs.

Elysia looked down at her hands.

"I didn’t know what to do with you," she admitted. "You were terrifying. Arrogant. Cold."

Malvoria raised an eyebrow. "Still am."

"Yes," Elysia said, with a small laugh. "But you’re also the one who saved me more than once. The one who brought me here. The one who... made me feel safe."

Malvoria’s expression flickered—something unreadable passing through her eyes.

"You don’t owe me anything for that," she said after a moment.

"I know."

Elysia looked up.

"I’m not saying this because I think I should. Or because you deserve it. I’m saying it because—" she stopped, bit her lip.

"Because?"

Elysia exhaled.

"Because I think about you more than I should. And I don’t hate it."

Malvoria didn’t move, but her fingers curled slightly against her knee.

"I don’t want to complicate things," Elysia continued. "I have a lot I need to figure out. About myself. About... what I want."

Malvoria nodded once. "Then say what you know. Not what you don’t."

The words hit her like a spell. Simple. Direct. Honest.

Elysia leaned forward, heart hammering like thunder against her ribs.

"I have feelings for you," she said. "And I might want to explore them."

Then slowly, deliberately she leaned in and kissed her.