I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 317: Side - : the babysitting king part 3

For the briefest, most blissful window, Thalor truly believed he had achieved the impossible: peace.

Kaelith, after the wild parade of lunch, had yawned so hard her eyes nearly crossed, and Veylira, the only one with any magical patience, had whisked her away for a quick nap.

Raveth, never one to refuse a snuggly baby, volunteered to rock her gently until sleep took hold.

The castle, for those next thirty minutes, was transformed. The sunlight seemed warmer, the air quieter.

Thalor found himself with a mug of tea (still hot!), slouched contentedly in the reading nook near the library windows, a well-thumbed novel balanced in his lap.

He sipped, glanced at the page, and actually read three entire paragraphs without interruption. For a grandfather of Kaelith, this felt like a minor miracle.

He was just settling into the tale a rollicking epic about an elven queen and her dragon—with the sort of delighted relaxation that had become increasingly rare in his later years, when a faint "thump" drew his attention.

He glanced up, expecting nothing more than a servant passing by.

The "thump" repeated. Something much softer, more deliberate. He waited, listening.

A shadow flickered at the edge of the doorway. A tiny, sock-clad foot, then a mop of silver-red curls, and finally a round face, alert and deeply suspicious of silence.

Kaelith.

Her nap, apparently, was over.

Thalor didn’t even have time to set down his mug before Kaelith toddled into the room.

She moved with all the covert grace of a raccoon on a midnight raid—determined, wobbly, and with a face that plainly read: I have plans, and you cannot stop me.

"Hello there, little thundercloud," Thalor said, closing his book and setting it aside. "Sleep well?"

Kaelith blinked at him, unamused. She pointed at the door, then made a heroic attempt to articulate her need: "Ow-zide!"

Thalor’s eyebrows shot up. She wasn’t talking yet, not in full sentences, but her intentions were unmistakable. "Outside? Already?" He checked the clock; it wasn’t even an hour since lunch.

Kaelith, undeterred, pointed again, a stubborn jut to her chin—a look Thalor remembered well from Elysia’s toddler years. "Ow-zide! Yah!"

He tried diplomacy. "Are you sure? There are so many things we can do indoors. We could read a book. We could build a tower."

Kaelith’s face darkened with deep, existential disappointment. She crossed her arms and gave him a look of unfiltered, ancient betrayal. "OW-ZIDE!"

There was no winning this one.

"Alright," he relented, standing and gathering her in his arms. "But only if you promise not to summon any magical creatures this time."

Kaelith’s face brightened. She clapped, delighted, as if he’d just promised her a new kingdom.

The journey to the garden was not simple. Kaelith insisted on walking herself, gripping Thalor’s finger with surprising strength.

She led the way with the confidence of a conqueror, wobbling left and right, nearly toppling three times as she navigated the hallway.

She paused to peer under every table, pat every dog, and attempt to open each door she found.

A passing footman bowed to Thalor, struggling not to laugh as Kaelith stopped him in his tracks, lifting both arms imperiously. "Up!" she demanded. The poor man looked to Thalor for guidance.

"She’s in charge," Thalor sighed.

The footman dutifully lifted Kaelith high, spinning her once as she giggled, then set her back down. Kaelith waved regally. "Yah!"

They finally reached the main doors. Thalor, who once faced down armies without blinking, steeled himself and opened them wide.

Kaelith shot into the sunlight like a bolt of lightning, arms flung wide, cheeks flushed with joy. freewebnσvel.cѳm

The castle gardens were broad and blooming, laid out in neat squares of color and scent. Roses, foxgloves, daisies, and snapdragons tangled together in riotous beds. Fountains sparkled. Songbirds fluttered between hedges.

For exactly forty-three seconds, Kaelith was captivated. She chased a butterfly, squealing, her little feet kicking up grass. Thalor followed at a measured pace, feeling only a touch foolish for worrying about losing sight of someone so loud.

But then Kaelith saw the pond.

"NO!" Thalor called, breaking into a trot, but it was too late. Kaelith toddled to the edge, grinning down at the koi.

"Fishy," she announced, then leaned so far forward Thalor nearly had a heart attack. He caught her by the waist just in time.

"No swimming today, little one," he gasped, setting her back on her feet.

Kaelith pouted but allowed herself to be redirected toward the raspberry bushes.

For a while, peace returned. Kaelith found a stick and used it to poke holes in the dirt, then tried to feed it to a passing bee.

She made a valiant attempt to eat a rose petal, spat it out, and threw it at Thalor’s shoes. He tried to keep up, finding himself outmaneuvered at every turn.

She found a mud puddle—of course—and stomped in it, splattering her socks, his trousers, and a passing cat, who fled with an indignant yowl.

Thalor, wiping mud from his cheek, shook his head. "You are your mother’s daughter."

Kaelith, unconcerned, found a stick twice her height and declared it "sword." She brandished it at a hydrangea bush, then at Thalor, who dutifully surrendered.

He picked up a fallen daisy and stuck it behind her ear. Kaelith giggled and reciprocated, pressing a clump of grass into his hair.

They wandered through the maze. Kaelith led the way, tracing winding paths, shrieking in triumph at every turn.

She found a stone frog statue and tried to teach it how to dance. She discovered the gardener’s wheelbarrow and climbed inside, demanding, "Go!"

Thalor, sweating and covered in crumbs, obliged, pushing her slowly in circles. Kaelith threw leaves into the air, shrieking with delight as they rained down around her.

When she spotted a flock of doves, she chased after them, arms wide, calling, "Bir-bir!" until the birds scattered in all directions.

By the time Thalor caught up, Kaelith had somehow found the kitchen entrance. She pounded on the door, chanting, "Cake! Cake!"

The cook—a big-hearted woman who had seen everything—peered out, then let them both in. Kaelith was promptly gifted a chunk of fresh honey cake, which she smeared across her face before crumbling most of it onto the floor.

Thalor accepted a cup of tea and a scone, offering the cook a look of deep gratitude. "How do you do this every day?"

The cook just laughed. "We don’t. We rotate staff."

Kaelith, emboldened by cake, decided she wanted to try stirring a pot. She reached for the ladle, dunked it in a vat of soup, and splashed half onto the counter.

"Oops!" she declared, utterly without regret.

Thalor helped clean up, then spirited her outside before she could attempt to climb into the pantry.

Back in the garden, Kaelith found Veylira pruning roses.

"Grandma!" she cried, running up to her.

Veylira straightened, brushing petals from her hands. "What trouble are you causing now, small demon?"

Kaelith grinned and presented her with a "bouquet"—three weeds, one dandelion, and what looked suspiciously like a stick bug.

Veylira accepted it with mock solemnity. "Beautiful. I’ll treasure it forever."

Kaelith wandered off, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Veylira gave Thalor a sympathetic smile. "She’s unstoppable."

"She’s not even walking properly," Thalor said, sinking onto a bench. "Imagine when she starts running faster."

As if on cue, Kaelith, seeing a flash of color, tried to chase a butterfly—and tripped, falling in a heap.

Thalor shot to his feet, heart in his throat—but Kaelith just laughed, rolled over, and got up again, her knees streaked with grass stains.

"She’s made of tougher stuff than I was at her age," Thalor admitted.

Veylira nodded, her eyes shining. "She’ll need it."

Raveth appeared, carrying a small wooden sword and shield. "I found her weapons in the nursery. She’s ready for battle."

Kaelith squealed, grabbing the sword and swinging it with impressive force—well, impressive for a child who still occasionally tried to eat her own foot.

Her tiny fist clenched around the hilt, she charged up to Thalor with all the ferocity of a miniature warlord, cheeks flushed and eyes wild with glee.

She tapped Thalor’s knee with the wooden blade, fixing him with a look of grave, urgent importance. "Fight!" she demanded, voice both an invitation and an order.

Thalor grinned, feigning alarm. "Oh no! The great warrior Kaelith has challenged me!"

He clutched his heart dramatically and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a bush. Kaelith giggled and jabbed at him again, her technique equal parts chaos and enthusiasm.

Veylira and Raveth, watching from the edge of the garden, burst out laughing as Thalor staggered in exaggerated defeat, dropping to one knee. "Mercy, oh fierce one!" he pleaded, shielding himself with a flower.

But Kaelith was relentless. She whacked his shoulder, then paused, considering, and gently bonked him on the head. "Down!" she declared.

Obediently, Thalor collapsed in the grass, sprawled like a fallen giant. Kaelith immediately scrambled onto his chest, raising her sword in triumph.

"I surrender!" Thalor gasped, peering up at his tiny conqueror. "The kingdom is yours, brave Kaelith!"

She grinned, dropping her sword to hug him, all the fierce energy melting into soft laughter.