I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 164: You never used to earn it

The interior of the magic carriage was, thankfully, silent and warm.

It smelled faintly of sweet vanilla and leather-bound tomes, and the cushioned seats were charmed with subtle enchantments that shifted to support her spine just right, a rare kind of luxury even Malvoria seldom allowed herself.

The shadows outside moved slowly, trees and craggy hills flickering past like memories, and the soft hum of the magical propulsion beneath them filled the space with a low, rhythmic thrum—comforting in the way a storm might be when you’re safe behind thick walls.

Malvoria sprawled across the bench with the nonchalance of a woman who had successfully kidnapped her lover from exhaustion, carried her bodily down a mountain, and felt entirely justified in enjoying the spoils.

Elysia, across from her, had taken the window seat, her cheek resting against her palm, eyes half-lidded as she watched the landscape roll by. Her silver hair, still slightly damp at the ends, clung to her neck in elegant coils.

She’d unfastened the top of her jacket to cool down, revealing a sliver of collarbone, flushed pink from exertion—or possibly from what Malvoria had whispered to her as they’d stepped into the carriage.

Malvoria was still thinking about it.

The bath. The ridiculous hike. The way Elysia had curled up in her arms like a satisfied spell gone rogue.

A small silver dish sat on the table between them, and beside it, a plate lined with soft cloth cradled half a dozen chocolate-covered strawberries.

Plump. Glossy. Sinful. Just like she’d requested before they left the mountain.

Malvoria picked one up slowly, watching Elysia out of the corner of her eye. "You’re very quiet."

Elysia’s lashes lifted. "I’m recovering."

"From the walk?" Malvoria asked, deliberately sinking her teeth into the strawberry and moaning quietly, just loud enough to be annoying.

Elysia narrowed her eyes. "From you."

"Ah," Malvoria said, licking a smear of chocolate from her lower lip. "I see. Was I too much?"

Elysia arched a brow. "You’ve always been too much."

"And yet," Malvoria drawled, reaching for another strawberry, "you keep ending up beneath me."

"That’s because you keep ambushing me."

"It’s not an ambush if you enjoy it."

Elysia opened her mouth, probably to argue, but Malvoria held the second strawberry toward her.

"Here," she said, her voice velvet-smooth, almost innocent. "For your suffering."

Elysia hesitated, then leaned forward slowly, eyes on hers the entire time, and took the strawberry from her hand with her mouth. Her teeth brushed Malvoria’s fingers. Deliberately.

Malvoria’s throat tightened.

The bite was clean. Elegant. Entirely too sensual for something as mundane as fruit.

Elysia chewed slowly, then licked a drop of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "You’re trying to distract me."

"Is it working?"

"I haven’t decided yet."

Malvoria shifted forward, resting one elbow on her knee and cradling her jaw with her palm. "You know, you never used to flirt with me like this."

"You never used to earn it."

"Hmm. You liked me even when I didn’t earn it."

"I liked your face," Elysia corrected. "The rest was debatable."

Malvoria smirked, grabbing another strawberry and taking a slow bite. "Well, now you have the face and the personality. You’re spoiled."

Elysia gave a soft, quiet laugh, the kind that slipped past her defenses when she wasn’t thinking about how it might sound.

She leaned back in her seat, watching Malvoria in that way that was almost challenging—like she expected her to come closer. Like she wanted her to.

So she did.

The carriage shifted slightly beneath them as Malvoria stood and crossed the narrow space in a few easy steps, her boots silent on the thick carpet. She stopped in front of Elysia’s seat, still holding half of the last strawberry.

"Do you want the rest?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Elysia nodded once, slow and deliberate.

But this time, Malvoria didn’t offer it by hand.

She leaned down instead, mouth just a breath away from Elysia’s, and took the last bite herself—leaving the tiniest smudge of chocolate on her lip.

Elysia’s gaze flicked to it.

"You did that on purpose."

"I did," Malvoria admitted.

And then Elysia leaned up and kissed her.

It was soft at first—light, brief, a brush of lips with the faint tang of fruit and magic. But the moment it broke, it ignited something between them.

Malvoria reached for her face with both hands, cradling her jaw and pulling her closer, and Elysia responded instantly, parting her lips, sighing into the heat of it.

The kiss deepened.

Slowed.

It became something languid, honey-thick, the kind of kiss meant not to seduce but to taste.

Every move was deliberate, like they were trying to memorize each other again, now that the mountain was behind them and the castle still ahead.

When they finally broke apart, Malvoria stayed close, her forehead pressed to Elysia’s, their breaths mingling.

"Still recovering?" she whispered.

"Absolutely," Elysia murmured, not moving away. "And you’re not helping."

Malvoria nuzzled her cheek, pressing another kiss just below her ear. "That’s the point."

Elysia tilted her head back against the cushion, her throat exposed, vulnerable. "I thought demon queens were supposed to be cold."

Malvoria kissed the column of her throat. "I’m breaking tradition."

"With chocolate strawberries and public affection?"

"In my defense," she whispered, "this is technically private transport."

Elysia’s laugh vibrated through both of them. She lifted a hand to slide into Malvoria’s braid, fingers combing slowly through the strands. The movement was tender, almost reverent.

"Malvoria?"

"Hm?"

"I liked the cabin."

"I know."

"I liked you in the cabin."

Malvoria pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

"I liked you in the cabin, too," she said. "Even when you were threatening to exile the sun."

"I stand by that. It was aggressive."

Malvoria grinned, then reached down and carefully pulled Elysia up from the bench, guiding her to sit sideways on her lap as she sank back onto the opposite seat.

Elysia let her, arms looping lazily around her shoulders, her head tucked beneath Malvoria’s chin.

They stayed like that for a long while.

The world outside kept shifting—fewer trees now, flatter land, a dusting of clouds on the horizon.

The city beyond the forest would rise soon, its spires and obsidian towers catching the sun like blades.

But in here, everything was still.

Safe.

Uncomplicated, for once.

Malvoria stroked Elysia’s back in idle circles, her other hand resting at the curve of her thigh.

Every so often, Elysia would hum in contentment or shift to press a kiss to her neck or jaw. There was nothing urgent in it. Nothing rushed.

They had moved fast, yes. But right now, this moment was slow. Anchored. Precious.

And then the hum of the carriage changed—lower, slower.

Malvoria glanced out the window.

The road beneath them was no longer wild or uneven. It was carved obsidian stone now, edged with ancient sigils glowing faintly beneath their wheels.

The path widened, flanked by torch-like spires. The sky above had turned a pale gold, the sun dipping toward the west.

Ahead, the castle loomed.

Dark and vast, with towers that pierced the sky and walls that shimmered faintly with magic.

Banners fluttered in the breeze crimson and silver and from this distance, Malvoria could already see the faint shapes of guards lining the gate.

She sighed.

Elysia stirred in her lap. "Are we there?"

"Almost."

Elysia didn’t move to get up.

Malvoria didn’t urge her to.