I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 163: The descent

They had been walking for over an hour.

Elysia knew this because her legs had started keeping time better than any magical pocket watch.

Every step was a metronome of discomfort, every breath a quiet curse lodged behind her teeth. The morning sun had risen cheerfully above the mountains, painting the forest trail in golden light and birdsong.

And none of it mattered.

Because she was tired.

The kind of tired that seeped into the bones, soft and insistent, like a wave tugging her down into the earth with each step.

And she hadn’t realized—had truly, utterly forgotten just how long the hike had been to the top.

How winding and steep the trail had become. The little detours. The uneven ground. The rocks that looked innocent until you tripped over them.

It hadn’t felt like much on the way up. Probably because her adrenaline had been high, the fresh air exhilarating.

Malvoria had been doing that thing where she walked just a bit ahead, glancing back with that half-smirk that made Elysia want to match her pace, if only to keep up the illusion that she wasn’t secretly admiring how her shirt clung to her back.

But now?

Now, everything was a blur of trees and misery.

Elysia tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, teeth gritted as she stepped around a root that wanted her dead.

She was going to die on this mountain. That was it. She was going to collapse and become one with the moss, and when future hikers passed by and saw her skeleton curled around a dry leaf, they would whisper, Here lies a woman who underestimated post-bath exhaustion.

And it was Malvoria’s fault.

Entirely.

Elysia shot a glance at her companion, who walked a few paces ahead on the trail, effortlessly graceful despite the uneven terrain.

Malvoria’s cloak shifted with every step, the embroidered hem catching light in elegant flashes of silver. Her long braid swayed behind her like a banner of war and sin.

There was no justice.

Because she wasn’t tired.

Of course she wasn’t tired. Because she hadn’t spent the entire bath like an absolutely possessed demon queen, whispering sinful things in Elysia’s ear while slowly erasing every trace of her strength with fingers and lips and—

Elysia stumbled over her own foot.

No. No, she was not going to think about that.

She was going to focus on the trail, on the distant promise of a magic carriage, and not on the reason her thighs felt like warm jelly and her knees like overcooked bread.

Gods, she was so tired.

The idea of sleeping right here, on the cold forest floor, actually began to sound appealing. Maybe if she just fell dramatically, Malvoria would have no choice but to carry her the rest of the way.

She let her shoulders sag and slowed slightly, sighing with a level of drama she hoped was noticeable.

Nothing.

Malvoria didn’t even glance back.

Insufferable.

Elysia muttered something unintelligible under her breath and leaned on a tree trunk for a moment while pretending to adjust her boot.

Malvoria stopped several steps ahead and turned around. "You’re slowing down."

"No, I’m not," Elysia said, already defensive and breathless. "I’m just...scouting the texture of this bark. It’s very... barky."

Malvoria tilted her head. "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," Elysia lied, standing up straighter. Her spine popped. Her soul groaned.

Malvoria stared for a moment longer, then stepped back toward her.

Elysia braced herself for teasing. Maybe some snark about her human stamina. A reminder that she wasn’t the one who could leap from mountaintops or throw boulders without blinking.

Instead, Malvoria’s expression softened. Just a fraction. The wind lifted a few strands of hair around her cheek, but she didn’t move them. Her eyes flicked down Elysia’s form, assessing—not with judgment, but concern.

Then she stepped closer and said, with no fanfare or warning, "I’ll carry you to the bottom."

Elysia blinked.

"What?"

Before she could process it, Malvoria was already sweeping her up, arms sliding beneath her knees and back with terrifying efficiency.

"Wait—no—Malvoria, don’t—!"

Too late.

The world tilted, her cloak flared, and Elysia found herself airborne, pressed against Malvoria’s chest as the demon queen straightened and resumed walking.

Fast.

Stupidly fast.

Elysia slapped her shoulder, embarrassed. "Put me down!"

"No."

"I can walk!"

"You’re about to fall asleep standing up."

"I was resting!"

"You were about to become a tragic footnote in the mountain’s history."

Elysia glared at her, squirming. "You can’t just pick people up when they’re tired!"

"I absolutely can. I am picking you up. You’re very pick-up-able."

"That’s not a word!"

"It is now."

Elysia growled and crossed her arms, which unfortunately only made her look more like a disgruntled child being carried out of a festival. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

"I might."

"You won’t when I get you to the bottom and feed you something sweet."

Elysia narrowed her eyes. "That’s manipulative."

"That’s romance."

Elysia opened her mouth to argue again, but then Malvoria adjusted her grip slightly, shifting her higher, and the warmth of her arms—solid and steady—sank deeper into Elysia’s already foggy senses.

Her head fell gently against Malvoria’s shoulder, her eyelids heavy in spite of her pride.

Damn her.

Damn her and her muscles and her smug expressions and her stupid, thoughtful concern that always came dressed in sarcasm.

Elysia sighed. "This is humiliating."

"No one can see us."

"I can."

"You like the view."

"I hate how right you are."

Malvoria chuckled, and the sound reverberated in her chest where Elysia’s ear now rested.

The rhythmic motion of her stride, the soft rustling of leaves, the crunch of their boots against damp soil—it became a lullaby far too effective.

Elysia felt herself sinking into that hazy space between stubborn consciousness and the gentle pull of sleep.

The world narrowed to the steady thump of Malvoria’s heartbeat and the scent of her cloak, laced with ash and cedar.

She murmured, barely audible, "If you drop me, I’m cursing your bath salts."

Malvoria huffed a laugh. "Noted."

They continued like that—winding through the last stretch of trees as the forest began to thin.

The sunlight had grown stronger now, sharper, no longer dappled through leaves but wide and open as the path finally began to slope downward into flat ground.

Elysia stirred slightly as the air grew warmer.

Malvoria slowed her steps.

Ahead, just at the curve of the mountain’s base, the magic carriage waited—its sleek form shimmering faintly with enchantment, pulled by two obsidian-horned equine creatures that pawed the ground with eerie patience. freeweɓnøvel.com

The driver bowed slightly as they approached, silent and polite.

Elysia blinked herself fully awake and glanced up, then back toward the forested trail they had left behind.

They’d made it.

Malvoria didn’t put her down right away. She held her a moment longer, as if unsure where to place her in a world that wasn’t shaded by old trees and pink-red leaves.

Elysia felt the faintest squeeze in her chest—a soft ache for the cabin, for the bath, for the way Malvoria had looked at her when she thought Elysia wasn’t watching.

But she smiled anyway, because the ache wasn’t sadness. It was just the memory of something good. Something rare.

And maybe, something they’d return to.

Elysia shifted in her arms. "You can set me down now, warhorse."

Malvoria grinned. "You sure? I was going to ask the driver to get a second horse just to pull you."

"Drop me and I’ll turn your bath salts into itching powder."

"I knew you were a chaos gremlin."

Elysia touched her shoulder lightly. "Thank you."

Malvoria blinked. "For what?"

"For carrying me. For... all of it."

She didn’t say more.

She didn’t need to.

Because when Malvoria set her down gently on her feet, the look in her eyes tired, amused, and inexplicably tender—said everything she didn’t.

They turned to the carriage together.