I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 320: Banquet preparation

One week before Kaelith’s first anniversary, the castle was a hurricane of color, music, and magical accidents.

Elysia stood at the threshold of the grand banquet hall, a list in her hand and determination in her heart, as the preparations for her daughter’s milestone celebration spiraled rapidly toward delightful chaos.

Streamers shimmered in midair, enchanted roses floated overhead, and a trio of palace cooks wheeled in an alarming number of cakes—all while Kaelith, the very center of this small universe, cackled with pure joy.

"Purple!" Kaelith demanded, standing atop a chair she’d absolutely not been placed on, brandishing a sticky hand in the direction of a garland of blue and gold.

"Yes, dearest, but let’s not—" Elysia started, but it was too late.

A tiny spark of purple flame erupted from Kaelith’s palm, zipping straight toward the garland.

The streamer burst into a violet flame, melting and dripping onto a table of sugared fruit below.

The cooks screamed. Raveth, who’d been discussing the correct angle for floral arches with a grumpy footman, leapt over a table and stamped the flames out with her boot.

Veylira, arms folded, watched the chaos with a smirk that suggested she’d expected nothing less.

Kaelith shrieked in delight, utterly unrepentant.

Elysia drew in a deep, slow breath. "We do not set the decorations on fire, Kaelith. How many times—"

Kaelith looked over her shoulder with the most innocent expression imaginable, eyes wide as moons. "Buuurn," she cooed, as if she’d just performed a song and was waiting for applause.

Lara, leaning against a pillar and cradling baby Aliyah (who, at two months, was an unusually placid audience), snorted. "Well, she didn’t burn the table this time. That’s progress."

"I’d like to see next week arrive with the castle still standing," Elysia muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Veylira, is it too late to enchant Kaelith’s magic out of the room until the banquet?"

Veylira arched one silver brow. "Her magic would simply find another exit. That child is already smarter than half my generals."

Kaelith, meanwhile, had discovered the centerpiece cake and was poking it with a purple-stained finger.

Elysia dashed over, scooping her up just as the frosting started to smoke. Kaelith squealed, kicking her little feet in the air. "Cake! Hot!"

"Not hot, darling. Not yet." Elysia planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, checking for any singed curls.

Aliyah gave a sleepy gurgle, then yawned, snuggling deeper into Lara’s arms. Lara rocked her gently, looking as if she were perfectly at home amidst the bedlam. novelbuddy.cσ๓

"If you’re worried about the Celestian queen seeing Aliyah," she remarked, "maybe we should distract her with flaming desserts. She’s always been a bit chilly about fun."

Elysia rolled her eyes. "She’s coming for Kaelith’s sake, not for ours. And she’ll expect everything to be perfectly proper."

"Proper," Raveth echoed with a grin, eyeing Kaelith, "is probably off the table."

Kaelith, wriggling in Elysia’s arms, reached for another streamer—this time a pink one. Elysia snatched her away just as another spark fizzled at her fingertips.

"Why do you even want to burn things, little demon?" Elysia asked, only half-joking.

"Puuurple!" Kaelith insisted, wiggling until Elysia set her down.

As soon as her feet hit the floor, Kaelith darted beneath the table, emerging on the other side with a triumphant grin.

Elysia rounded the table to find her daughter proudly showing off a purple scorch mark on her sleeve. She resisted the urge to sigh. Or laugh. Or both.

Preparations continued around them, servants and family members working to hang banners, polish crystal, and lay silverware—all while dodging Kaelith’s unpredictable magic.

Every so often, the unmistakable scent of something burning would drift through the air, followed by the sound of a hurried incantation and the soft thud of boots stamping out an errant flame.

Veylira, seeing Elysia’s desperation, finally lifted her hand and sent a gentle ward of cool blue energy around the dessert table. "That should protect the sweets," she said, "unless Kaelith decides to teleport."

Kaelith, as if hearing her grandmother’s words, blinked up with a mischievous glint. "Port!" she crowed, and everyone in the room froze.

She didn’t teleport, thank the stars. Instead, she did something worse: she toddled over to Aliyah, reached out, and gently tapped her cousin’s tiny horn with a purple-sparked finger. Aliyah’s eyes widened, then—unexpectedly—she giggled.

"Oh, gods," Lara said, deadpan. "She’s training her already."

Elysia watched her daughter, heart thumping with a mixture of love, pride, and pure parental terror.

Kaelith’s fire was unpredictable, yes, but she was careful with Aliyah—gentle, even when embers danced on her fingertips. She had an instinct for magic, a gift that seemed to grow with every day.

But she also had the attention span of a fruit fly.

Within moments, Kaelith had wandered off, this time crawling under a tablecloth and popping out near the band, who were rehearsing a soft waltz.

She clapped her hands, sparks trailing behind her, and the harpist jumped, nearly snapping a string.

"I’m starting to think we should hold the banquet outdoors," Elysia whispered to Veylira, who was calmly levitating a vase back onto a table Kaelith had nearly upended. "At least then, if she burns something, it’s only the grass."

Veylira gave her an approving nod. "You’re learning, dear."

Just then, a shout went up from the far side of the hall. "Fire!" one of the maids cried.

Elysia’s heart dropped. She rushed over to see Kaelith standing at the center of a circle of candles—every single one now lit with a dancing, unnatural purple flame.

The little girl looked positively delighted, clapping her hands.

"Birthday!" she squealed, clearly proud of her handiwork.

Everyone in the room froze, waiting to see what would happen. The flames twisted and spun in strange shapes—first hearts, then tiny dragons, then a line of what looked suspiciously like frosted cakes.

Elysia knelt down, keeping her voice even. "Kaelith, sweetheart, that’s very impressive, but we only light the candles during the party, remember?"

Kaelith’s face fell, then brightened as Elysia gently blew out each candle, her daughter following suit and sending the last one out with a particularly forceful "Fffft!"

The staff applauded politely. Kaelith beamed and gave an awkward bow.

Sarisa entered the hall then, Aliyah’s bottle in hand. She surveyed the mayhem with the long-suffering look of someone who’d spent the morning wrangling both infants and foreign dignitaries. "Are we still alive?"

"Barely," Elysia replied, picking up Kaelith and swinging her into her arms, where she wriggled and giggled, reaching out for Aliyah, who waved back.

Sarisa smiled, her eyes a little tired, but proud. "She’s growing fast."

"She’s growing dangerous," Elysia countered, but her voice was full of warmth.

She glanced at the polished floors, the enchanted decorations, the walls decked with wild flowers and iridescent banners.

It was going to be a beautiful banquet, one way or another—whether things went according to plan or Kaelith’s magic rewrote the rules entirely.

Lara joined them, ruffling Kaelith’s hair. "You think the Celestian queen will survive this?"

"If not," Elysia said with a smirk, "I’ll send her home with a souvenir—a very small, very purple firestarter."

The laughter that followed lightened the tension. Kaelith clung to Elysia’s neck, her head heavy on her shoulder, and Elysia rocked her gently, feeling the rhythm of her child’s breathing, the fierce warmth of her body.

For a while, there was peace—however brief.

The afternoon wore on. The cooks argued over whether to stack the cakes or line them in a procession.

Veylira supervised the arrangement of the guest tables, occasionally using magic to nudge a stubborn candelabra into place.

Raveth helped string up lanterns, climbing ladders with the ease of someone twice her size.

Lara and Sarisa entertained Aliyah, who watched everything with wide, owl-like eyes, only occasionally dozing off in the middle of the commotion.

Kaelith, now confined to Elysia’s hip, hummed contentedly, reaching out for every sparkle of magic she could see.

Elysia felt the familiar tug of exhaustion and love, the constant balancing act of discipline and delight.

As the shadows grew longer, Elysia finally managed to corral her family for a break. They gathered at a table near the windows, the air scented with sugar and wax, everyone a little rumpled but happy.

Kaelith reached for a last streamer—purple, of course—and Elysia let her have it, watching as she waved it in triumph, a single spark dancing harmlessly at its tip.

She caught Malvoria’s eye across the room. Her wife grinned, raising an eyebrow as if to say, Are we ready for this?

Elysia smiled, nodding, and pressed a kiss to Kaelith’s cheek. "We’ll make it work," she murmured. "Even if we have to rebuild the castle from scratch."

Kaelith, delighted, raised both arms and shouted, "Boom!"—just as a tiny puff of purple fire shot from her hands and fizzled harmlessly above the table, making a startled servant duck behind the cake.

Lara, watching from across the room, snorted. "If we have to rebuild, at least let Kaelith pick the colors."

Elysia grinned. "Only if she promises not to burn down the bathrooms this time."