I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 325: Calm bath

Malvoria ended up with an armful of artwork, most of it still damp and smelling strongly of paint.

Even with Elysia’s help, she could barely see over the stack: dragons with extra wings, portraits of horned queens, a wrinkled painting that seemed to be nothing but purple and gold handprints.

She held them like treasure—because, in truth, they were.

These little gifts from children who lived in a world where magic, family, and chaos blended freely were more precious than any diplomatic token or jeweled crown she’d ever received.

Kaelith, for once, was quietly subdued, her usual storm of energy settling into a small, contented hum. She trailed behind Malvoria and Elysia, thumb tucked into her mouth, paint still streaked through her pale hair.

She looked up, blinking slow and solemn, as Mistress Lyran and the rest of the children waved them off from the orphanage steps.

Kael ran forward for one last hug—Kaelith accepted it, but clung even closer to Elysia’s leg, as if she was afraid to let her out of sight for even a moment.

The sun was sinking lower now, throwing golden bars across the narrow village streets. Shops were closing; the scent of roasting roots and fresh bread drifted from open windows.

Elysia squeezed Malvoria’s hand. "We should get her home. If we don’t, she might fall asleep standing up."

Malvoria grinned, glancing down at their daughter, who yawned in perfect, dramatic timing. "She might not even make it through the bath."

They made their way to the teleportation circle on the far edge of the village, careful to keep Kaelith close—though she seemed more interested in leaning on Malvoria’s hip than wandering off.

Malvoria was grateful; there was something profoundly sweet about the way a child trusted their weight into you when the day was over and the world was safe.

The teleportation circle glowed as they stepped inside, a brief shimmer of gold and violet flickering around them. Kaelith curled into Malvoria’s arms, eyelids fluttering, and the castle’s great hall materialized around them in a gentle rush of air and light.

Home.

The castle—still half-new, still echoing with the energy of recent reconstruction—felt warmer and more welcoming every week. Malvoria’s first act was to pass the pile of paintings to a waiting maid.

"These are precious," she warned. "Let nothing happen to them. They’re to be dried and kept safe."

The maid nodded, eyes widening at the chaotic masterpieces, and hurried away to lay them carefully on a large rack in the sunroom.

Kaelith barely registered any of it. She was limp and quiet in Malvoria’s arms, her eyelids drooping and her painted cheeks resting against Malvoria’s shoulder.

Elysia, for her part, smiled knowingly. "Let’s get her bathed before she falls asleep for good. I’ll grab her towel and her little duck."

Malvoria nodded and carried Kaelith upstairs, her steps slow and measured. There was a peace in these moments, after the rush and noise, when the only sound was Kaelith’s soft breathing and the quiet hush of Elysia’s footsteps.

They reached the bathroom, already filled with the gentle light of evening and the faint scent of rosewater.

The tub was half full, steam curling over its surface. Elysia returned with the duck—a faded yellow toy that had survived all of Kaelith’s adventures—and set it on the bath’s edge. Malvoria settled on the cushioned stool, shifting Kaelith gently onto her lap.

"All right, little star," she murmured, unfastening the buttons of Kaelith’s smock and peeling it away.

The fabric came away with a faint stickiness, paint flecks clinging to Kaelith’s arms and hair. Malvoria brushed a curl from Kaelith’s forehead and pressed a kiss there. "You are a masterpiece all on your own."

Kaelith blinked at her, then smiled sleepily, small fingers wrapping around Malvoria’s thumb. Elysia knelt beside them, hands warm and gentle as she helped slide Kaelith into the warm water.

The bath was a soothing ritual. Kaelith, usually a fountain of energy, let herself be guided through the process, splashing only a little and closing her eyes in dreamy contentment as Elysia poured water over her hair.

Malvoria rubbed gentle circles across Kaelith’s back, coaxing away the last stubborn smears of paint.

The little duck bobbed on the water’s surface, and Kaelith managed a small giggle, reaching out with drowsy intent.

"She’s so calm," Elysia whispered, smiling as she wrung out a soft cloth. "I wish she’d stay this way forever."

Malvoria chuckled. "You’d be bored in an hour."

"I would," Elysia admitted. "I’d miss the chaos. But moments like this..." She trailed off, watching Kaelith’s eyelids flutter as she leaned against Malvoria’s chest, content and utterly trusting.

"Moments like this remind you it’s worth it," Malvoria finished softly, tracing a line down Kaelith’s nose. "Every last bit of paint and mess."

They finished the bath in companionable silence. Kaelith let herself be wrapped in a thick, warm towel, her hair fluffed dry by Elysia’s careful hands.

She clung to Malvoria, who held her close and kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet, clean scent of her daughter.

Kaelith’s eyes had gone heavy, but there was still a mischievous glimmer in them—a warning that she wasn’t ready to give in to sleep quite yet.

Together, Malvoria and Elysia dressed Kaelith in her favorite set of pajamas, soft gray with little purple dragons embroidered at the sleeves and collar.

She squirmed a bit, complaining in baby syllables when Elysia tried to tame her curls, but eventually let herself be bundled up and cuddled one last time.

"Time for dinner, little queen," Malvoria whispered, pressing another kiss to Kaelith’s cheek.

Kaelith’s only response was a sleepy "Nooo," but she did not protest when Elysia carried her out to the corridor, where Veylira was waiting. Veylira, regal and amused, accepted her granddaughter with a conspiratorial wink. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"I’ll have her ready for supper. You two look like you need a moment," Veylira said quietly, reading the look on Malvoria’s face.

Malvoria shot her mother a grateful glance, then watched as Veylira and Kaelith headed down the corridor, Kaelith’s small hands waving lazily over Veylira’s shoulder.

As soon as they were alone, Elysia leaned against the doorframe, the stress of the long day slipping from her shoulders. She raised her brows at Malvoria, a teasing light in her eyes. "I think we’ve earned a bath of our own, don’t you?"

Malvoria let her eyes wander over Elysia—hair tousled, cheeks pink from the heat of the nursery, lips still parted in the hint of a smile. "Only if you promise not to make as much of a mess as Kaelith."

Elysia stepped closer, brushing a wet strand of hair from Malvoria’s brow. "No promises," she whispered. Her voice was low, full of private mischief.

Malvoria grinned, grabbing Elysia’s hand and pulling her into the bathroom. The room still held the scent of rosewater and the last shreds of steam from Kaelith’s bath.

Malvoria set to work drawing another bath—this one hotter, deeper, laced with oils and the faint shimmer of magic that soothed tired muscles and made skin soft as velvet.

Elysia stood beside her, undressing in slow, lazy movements, letting her gown slide to the floor, eyes never leaving Malvoria’s.

When the tub was full, Malvoria undressed as well, watching Elysia with open appreciation.

She slid into the water first, the heat embracing her like a lover’s touch, and reached for Elysia, who joined her with a contented sigh.

Elysia settled herself between Malvoria’s thighs, her back against Malvoria’s chest, her head tucked beneath Malvoria’s chin.

For a long, blissful moment, they simply lay there, listening to the faint echo of laughter and voices drifting from the halls below.

Malvoria’s arms found Elysia’s waist, holding her close, hands tracing gentle patterns over damp skin.

Elysia closed her eyes and melted against her, letting the water, and Malvoria’s touch, erase the world outside.

"I missed this," Elysia murmured, voice soft and raw.

Malvoria pressed her lips to Elysia’s shoulder, lingering there, letting her mouth linger on warm skin. "Me too. It feels like we never get a moment alone anymore."

Elysia laughed, low and breathy, tilting her head to invite another kiss. "Maybe that’s why it feels so good."

Malvoria’s hands wandered, slipping lower, circling Elysia’s hips and drawing her back tighter.

Her lips trailed up the column of Elysia’s neck, to the delicate shell of her ear. "You smell like paint," she whispered, biting gently at Elysia’s earlobe. "And rosewater. And something that’s just you."

Elysia turned, catching Malvoria’s mouth with hers. The kiss was unhurried, a slow burn of want and memory, drawing a shiver from deep in Malvoria’s bones.

The heat of the water was nothing compared to the way Elysia’s tongue traced her lower lip, the way her fingers tangled in Malvoria’s hair, the way her legs shifted, pressing her closer.

Malvoria let herself fall into the moment, into Elysia’s arms. There was no hurry now—no little queen demanding attention, no noise, no paint, only the two of them, skin to skin.

They lost themselves in slow, lazy kisses, in the gentle slide of hands and legs and breath, exploring each other as if rediscovering the map of home.

At one point, Elysia whispered something a soft, urgent plea against Malvoria’s mouth—and Malvoria answered by wrapping her arms tighter around her, letting her hands roam, letting the hunger build, slow and deep.

When they finally left the water, both breathless and flushed, the world felt softer. Elysia dried Malvoria’s hair with a gentle, reverent touch, and Malvoria did the same for her, their laughter mingling in the misty light.

They dressed together, helping each other with small buttons, stolen kisses, and secret smiles. By the time they made their way to the dining hall, hands clasped, Malvoria felt a lightness she hadn’t felt in days.