I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 319: Side - : the babysitting king last part

Dinner was simple tonight no parade of silver platters, no elaborate centerpieces, just a round wooden table set with earthenware bowls, thick slices of crusty bread, and a pair of sturdy candlesticks flickering gently.

The kitchen staff had prepared a meal for comfort rather than spectacle: roasted root vegetables tossed in herbs, creamy soup fragrant with garlic and parsley, hunks of white cheese, and a pot of honey for drizzling.

But Thalor knew, as Kaelith toddled into the dining room ahead of him in her dragon overalls and mismatched socks, that "simple" was about to become relative.

Lara was already there—leaning back in her chair, her boots crossed on the rung, exuding her usual air of irreverence.

She looked up and grinned when she saw Kaelith, making an exaggerated bow. "Well, well, the little demon queen arrives! What’s your verdict—will we be spared tonight?"

Kaelith, delighted, squealed "Lawa!" and charged toward her aunt. Lara caught her midair, spinning her around with practiced ease. "Who dressed you, little beast? You look ready for battle."

"She chose it herself," Thalor explained, pulling out a chair. "She’s developing an alarming sense of fashion independence."

Lara set Kaelith on her knee, making a show of inspecting the dragon patch. "Excellent choice. Dragons never go out of style."

The door opened and Sarisa swept in, looking as dignified as ever despite the soft chaos that clung to her since Aliyah’s birth.

Her pale hair was braided and pinned, her gown dusted with flour at the sleeve—evidence, perhaps, of a last-minute culinary intervention.

In her arms, baby Aliyah snuggled close, wide-eyed and solemn, black horns gleaming above a thatch of dark hair streaked with white.

Kaelith gasped in delight, scrambling down from Lara’s lap and toddling over, hands outstretched. "yah!" she crowed, voice ringing through the hall.

Aliyah, though only a few week old, gave a little coo and reached a chubby fist toward her cousin. The two babies regarded each other for a long, weighty moment, as if silently reaffirming a pact known only to those still learning the world’s words.

Sarisa smiled, tucking Aliyah onto her shoulder. "You’ll have to teach her how to conquer the castle, Kaelith. She’s a bit shy with all these new faces."

Kaelith, undaunted, patted Aliyah’s foot, then promptly tried to hand her a bread crust she’d liberated from the table. Aliyah drooled on it, then gummed it with determination. Lara snorted with laughter.

Thalor helped everyone settle—Kaelith on his left, Lara and Sarisa with Aliyah on his right. Veylira and Raveth joined as well, rounding out the table, each radiating a mix of stately calm and open affection.

"Let’s eat," Sarisa said, nodding at the soup. "Before Kaelith decides to start her own banquet."

Kaelith didn’t need encouragement. She seized her spoon with gusto and immediately dipped it into her bowl—missing most of the vegetables but hitting the soup itself.

She slurped, made a face, and blew on it so hard that a thin spray misted Thalor’s sleeve.

Lara pretended to hide behind her napkin. "Incoming! Duck and cover!"

Kaelith giggled, eyes twinkling, and proceeded to taste each thing on her plate with the meticulous curiosity of a royal food taster.

Carrots were squished, cheese crumbled, and a generous blob of honey found its way onto both her fingers and her chin.

Aliyah, meanwhile, studied her cousin with solemn awe, then reached a hand toward Kaelith’s hair, fascinated by the streaks of silver and black.

Kaelith leaned close, whispering "yah, shh," as if passing along a great secret. Aliyah grinned, showing off new teeth.

Thalor watched the two babies with a feeling bordering on awe. Their laughter and babbling wove through the grownups’ conversation, setting the tone—chaotic, yes, but also warm and strangely harmonious.

Dinner unfolded with all the messy glory of family life. Veylira poured cider, Raveth buttered bread, and Sarisa occasionally had to catch a spoon before it fell to the floor.

Lara provided a running commentary on everything from demon politics to the perils of toddlerhood.

"And then she grabbed my sword," Lara was saying, nodding at Kaelith, "and ran straight at the guard. Haven’t seen him look that terrified since the pie incident."

Sarisa rolled her eyes. "You’d think she’d been raised by wolves."

"Worse," Veylira murmured. "She was raised by us."

Kaelith banged her spoon for emphasis. "Yah!" she proclaimed, then offered Aliyah a squashed carrot. Aliyah accepted, mashing it into the table.

Raveth attempted to keep up, trading bits of food with both girls, occasionally flicking peas at Lara when she thought no one was looking.

Lara retaliated by slipping a slice of onion onto Raveth’s plate. The resulting faces sent Kaelith into peals of laughter.

Dessert was fresh berries with cream. Kaelith dipped each berry, licked off the cream, and then tried to stack the berries into a tower.

Aliyah, following suit, ended up with cream on her nose, which Kaelith immediately tried to lick off.

"Careful, Kaelith," Thalor warned gently. "Your cousin might just bite back."

But Aliyah, being Sarisa’s child, simply grinned and babbled, reaching for more.

Conversation drifted as dinner wound down.

Sarisa asked Veylira for advice on baby teething spells, Raveth recounted the tale of the haunted stables (complete with dramatic hand gestures), and Lara regaled everyone with the story of her first attempt at babysitting Kaelith—"There was more jam on the ceiling than in her mouth. I have no regrets."

Kaelith, now sticky and beaming, made a valiant attempt to climb onto the table. Thalor gently pulled her back, setting her in his lap, where she promptly curled up and began to hum.

Aliyah, meanwhile, had fallen asleep on Sarisa’s shoulder, mouth open, fingers still clutching a tiny berry.

The meal’s chaos settled into a golden hush as plates were cleared and napkins tucked away.

Thalor, arms full of giggling Kaelith, excused himself as the others drifted toward the larger sitting room for music and post-dinner tea.

He paused in the hall, Kaelith’s breath warm against his neck, her hand clutching a fistful of his shirt. The castle seemed especially peaceful in these moments—just the two of them, cocooned in the hush that followed laughter.

Thalor carried Kaelith into the smaller sitting room—a favorite of Elysia’s, full of soft chairs and half-read books, the scent of lavender lingering in the air.

He settled into the window seat, Kaelith sprawling across his lap, looking up at him with the contentment only a well-fed, well-loved child can know.

"Long day, little queen?" Thalor whispered, smoothing Kaelith’s wild hair as she burrowed into the crook of his arm.

She responded only with a soft yawn and a little hum, her eyelids drooping but her fingers still curled in his shirt, sticky from dessert.

Thalor smiled, savoring the hush of the castle at dusk.

The lamps glowed softly in the corners, and from somewhere down the corridor, the gentle sound of a harp drifted through the stone halls.

He shifted, reaching for the small pile of picture books on the window seat beside them.

"Shall we have a story, Kaelith?" he murmured. freewebnøvel.com

Kaelith, sensing magic in the word, blinked awake, her silver and black lashes fluttering. She didn’t answer, but she watched with solemn, hopeful eyes as Thalor selected her favorite: The Brave Little Dragon and the Silver Moon.

He opened the book, holding it so she could see the bright illustrations—dragons of every color soaring through midnight skies, stars twinkling, the moon big and silver, just like her mother’s hair. Kaelith pressed a hand to the page and cooed, entranced.

"Once upon a time," Thalor began, his voice low and gentle, "there was a little dragon who wanted to touch the moon..."

As he read, he gave each character a different voice. The brave dragon’s roars were soft and silly, the moon sang in shimmering rhyme, and the little woodland animals chirped and chattered with delight.

Kaelith giggled as the dragon flew loop-the-loops, then gasped and clutched at his sleeve when a storm swept through the story.

With each page, Thalor watched her little face—so earnest, so open to wonder—mirroring every triumph and tumble.

He paused when Kaelith pointed at the picture of the dragon’s mother and whispered, "Mama." Thalor kissed the top of her head, his heart warm and full.

He continued reading, slower now, letting the rhythm of the words weave a gentle spell.

Outside the window, the sky deepened to velvet, the stars blinking into view. Kaelith’s grip loosened, her head tipping against his chest, breath evening out.

Thalor turned to the last page: the dragon, curled in her mother’s wings beneath the silver moon, safe and cherished.

He closed the book, pressing it to his chest, and looked down to find Kaelith already half-asleep, her lips parted in a soft sigh.

He hummed a lullaby—an old tune from his own childhood, wordless and soothing. Kaelith’s breathing slowed, and she curled in on herself, small and perfect and impossibly precious.

Thalor rested his chin atop her head, rocking ever so slightly, the old aches in his back forgotten.

The warmth of her against him, the comfort of story and song, drew his own eyelids heavy. The day’s fatigue washed over him, mingling with a deep, sweet peace.

The castle outside their little room might have been a world away. Here, there was only the hush of the lamplight, the gentle thump of two hearts, the safe arms of family.

By the time the harp music faded, Thalor and Kaelith were both asleep, sprawled together on the window seat one large, one small, both utterly content.

The storybook slid from Thalor’s hand and landed, forgotten, at their feet, a dragon smiling up at the quiet room.