I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 326: Banquet clothes for Kaelith

Morning sunlight spilled across the castle floors, chasing away the final shadows of night. In the royal bedroom, Malvoria stretched beneath soft sheets, savoring the rare luxury of waking with Elysia curled at her side and Kaelith snuggled between them.

It was days before Kaelith’s first birthday—her official banquet, an event that had somehow grown into an affair worthy of a coronation.

There would be dignitaries, friends, the Celestian Queen (regrettably), and enough food to feed a small army.

But before the cooks began clattering in the kitchens, before the tailors and gardeners and soldiers and maids all had their instructions, there was this: the slow, golden beginning of a day that promised everything.

Kaelith woke first, as always. Malvoria barely had time to open her eyes before a small fist found her cheek and a mop of silver-streaked hair burrowed beneath her chin.

Kaelith crowed with excitement, clearly remembering what the adults had promised the night before.

"Banquet!" she chirped, her voice a triumphant squeal.

Elysia groaned, pulling the pillow over her face with exaggerated despair. "Not yet, Kaelith. Mama needs ten more minutes."

Kaelith giggled, yanking the pillow away with surprising strength and tossing it to the floor. She bounced between them, entirely without mercy. "Up! Up! Dress pretty!"

Malvoria caught Elysia’s eye across the rumpled covers and managed a sleepy grin. "There’s no use fighting it. Today, our fate is in her hands."

Elysia surrendered with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But if she picks another outfit covered in dragons and jam stains, I’m blaming you."

With the reluctant grace of parents everywhere, Malvoria and Elysia slid from the bed.

Kaelith, as if she were the queen and not merely the birthday girl, claimed victory by standing in the center of the mattress and clapping. "Pretty! Pretty!" she insisted.

Malvoria swept her up, swinging Kaelith in a lazy circle. The baby shrieked with delight, then immediately demanded, "Dress! Dress! Pretty, pretty, pretty!"

Breakfast was a blur of cinnamon rolls, fruit, and hurried coffee. Kaelith was too excited to eat, shoving berries into her mouth with sticky hands and hopping on her chair. "Dress!" she reminded everyone, every few seconds.

After breakfast, the family retreated to the dressing room. Kaelith’s wardrobe had somehow grown as grand as Malvoria’s or Elysia’s: a long row of tiny dresses, tunics, and trousers, all in shades of deep crimson, twilight blue, soft lavender, and shining gold.

There were shoes in every size, hats with delicate feathers, even a few items that sparkled with enchantments for warmth, comfort, or the sheer joy of shining in a crowd.

Maids flitted in and out, carrying options and suggestions. Raveth and Veylira stopped by, each with a different opinion: Raveth favored the bold (black velvet with red trim), Veylira the regal (a gown that looked like it belonged to an empress).

Lara, ever the mischief-maker, appeared briefly to drop off a pair of dragon-shaped slippers that Kaelith promptly tried to eat.

Kaelith’s excitement was at fever pitch. She toddled from rack to rack, yanking down dresses and tunics with abandon. "This one!" she’d declare, only to toss it aside a heartbeat later. "No! This one!" fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Elysia knelt in the middle of it all, holding up a shimmering gown with tiny embroidered firebirds. "Look, Kaelith! It matches your magic."

Kaelith eyed it, then shook her head and pointed at a much simpler tunic—one she’d worn so many times it was faded and stained with purple paint. "No. Kaelith wear this."

Malvoria tried to hide her smile, smoothing Kaelith’s wild hair. "Darling, that one’s for playing dragons, not greeting the entire court."

Kaelith crossed her arms, the picture of miniature defiance.

The fashion parade began in earnest. Elysia suggested a rose-pink dress with tiny pearls stitched along the hem.

Kaelith tolerated it for all of two seconds, then wriggled away and tore it off, shrieking with glee.

Next came a star-silver tunic, soft as a cloud and lined with midnight blue. Kaelith pulled the hood over her eyes, spun in a circle, and managed to trip over the hem, collapsing in giggles.

"We may need a miracle," Elysia whispered to Malvoria as they tried a third dress, this one spun with gold thread and matching slippers.

Kaelith regarded herself in the mirror, considered the golden slippers, then solemnly kicked one into the hallway. "No shoes," she decreed.

Malvoria pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her laughter. Elysia, less successful, snorted so hard she nearly fell over. "She is your daughter."

Kaelith squirmed away from another option—deep red, with tiny silver buttons—and made a dash for the door. Malvoria caught her mid-flight and spun her in a gentle circle.

"Come on, little one," she coaxed. "It’s your birthday. You get to wear something special—don’t you want to look like a princess?"

Kaelith paused, thinking. "Kaelith look like Kaelith," she insisted stubbornly.

Elysia held out another gown, this one blue as dusk, embroidered with little moons. Kaelith made a face, the universal look of a child being forced to wear something ridiculous.

"No moons," she complained. "No shoes. No dress. Kaelith want... pants!"

The maids gasped as if the child had declared war. Elysia, ever diplomatic, knelt down and rummaged for a pair of silk trousers—crimson with little golden flames.

Kaelith clapped in delight, immediately trying to put both legs into the same pant leg.

Malvoria crouched down, untangling her, and said, "Let’s try again. One foot at a time."

The result was... almost stylish. Kaelith, in her fire-colored trousers and a cream tunic, looked more like a tiny warrior than a princess.

Malvoria fetched a crimson sash, tying it carefully around her waist. Kaelith posed in the mirror, hands on her hips, grinning so wide Malvoria’s heart nearly burst.

But when Elysia tried to slip on a matching jacket—a soft velvet piece, lined with delicate scales—Kaelith’s face crumpled.

She let out a wail, half-hearted and dramatic. "Nooooooo!" She struggled like a wildcat, twisting out of the sleeves and making a mess of her hair.

Elysia, resigned, sat back and watched as Kaelith ripped the jacket off, tossed it behind her, and stood proud and rumpled in her trousers and tunic.

Malvoria sighed, brushing a kiss across Kaelith’s brow. "I think she’s made her choice."

Elysia slumped onto a stool, eyeing the jacket on the floor and the fierce little figure in front of her. "Looks like she doesn’t like it."