I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 324: Like a family portrait

It never failed to surprise Elysia just how noisy happiness could be. After the wild, thundering play had finally burned off the children’s boundless energy.

Mistress Lyran reappeared, arms full of old aprons and big sheets of parchment.

Her voice rose above the din, impossibly calm: "All right, little monsters. Painting time. If you get as much on the page as you do on yourselves, we’ll call it a victory."

A wave of cheers and groans swept through the room. Several children bounced in place, eager for the next adventure. Kaelith, eyes wide, tugged at Elysia’s skirt with sticky fingers, her earlier possessiveness forgotten. "Paint, mama!"

"Yes, we’ll paint," Elysia said, smoothing a curl from Kaelith’s forehead. She helped Kaelith into a comically oversized smock, which immediately slipped off one shoulder but looked so endearing Elysia could hardly fix it for laughing.

The great dining table was hastily cleared, and paint jars in every color imaginable were plunked down in the center.

Brushes, some as thick as broom handles and some so fine they looked like fairy wands, were laid out alongside hunks of charcoal and sponges. The children swarmed around the table, staking out territory with all the political skill of a court negotiation.

Malvoria sidled up beside Elysia, rolling up her sleeves. "Do you think we should help, or just stand back and hope nothing bursts into flames?"

"I vote for a bit of both," Elysia replied, grinning as she tied her own apron. "Kaelith—choose your color, darling."

Kaelith, predictably, went straight for the brightest purple, her favorite. She jabbed a brush into the jar and proceeded to swipe a giant streak down the middle of her page—then across her own face, then onto Elysia’s apron, then Malvoria’s arm.

"Art," Kaelith announced with regal certainty.

Elysia burst out laughing. "It’s a masterpiece already!"

Across the table, Kael—the perpetual instigator—had created a small circle of devoted followers.

Together they devised an elaborate painting of a many-headed dragon, each child responsible for one head. Every so often, Kael would glance at Kaelith’s creation and try to copy her bold strokes, with slightly less abandon.

Malvoria, meanwhile, eyed the paintbrush Kaelith had used as if expecting it to ignite. "We might need a mop more than a brush," she murmured, dipping her own brush into blue paint and drawing a gentle arc on her parchment. "What should we paint?"

Elysia looked around, taking in the sight of children crowded together, giggling and arguing over colors, Kaelith’s determined chaos, and Malvoria’s cautious artistry.

"Let’s try to capture this moment—everyone together. Like a family portrait."

Malvoria raised a brow, a slow smile curving her lips. "I can manage horns and wings, but if you ask me to paint a convincing baby, we might end up with a gremlin."

"Gremlins are part of the family too," Elysia teased. She touched Malvoria’s hand, guiding her brush, and together they began.

While the other children painted dragons and castles and wild, spiraling rainbows, Elysia and Malvoria worked side by side.

Elysia started with a tall figure—Malvoria, unmistakable with her red, arched horns and kind eyes. Malvoria added Elysia beside her, giving her a halo of silver hair that was, to Elysia’s amusement, perhaps a touch too wild.

Kaelith, meanwhile, had abandoned her own page in favor of "collaborating." She slapped her palm down onto Malvoria’s painting, leaving a vivid purple handprint across the bottom. "Me," she declared, utterly pleased.

"Very subtle," Malvoria deadpanned, but her eyes twinkled.

Elysia’s laughter set the rest of the table off again. Kaelith began stamping her hands on every available surface—her page, Malvoria’s, a bewildered Kael’s arm, the wooden tabletop. Mistress Lyran reappeared with a rag, already resigned to chaos.

"Kaelith!" Elysia said, trying for sternness and failing as Kaelith grinned up at her, purple smears on her cheeks and a matching streak in her hair.

Kael, eager to help, seized a brush and started adding little flames around Kaelith’s handprints. "She’s making the magic stronger," he explained to no one in particular.

Malvoria added tiny horns to Elysia’s painted portrait, then grinned when Elysia caught her. "A little more queenly, I think."

Elysia retaliated by dabbing a spot of gold on Malvoria’s nose. "For luck," she whispered, then kissed the spot clean.

All around them, the children painted and argued and burst into song. The room filled with the scents of paint and fresh bread from the kitchens, the light slanting through the windows turning everything to gold.

There was a moment a heartbeat when Elysia realized she’d never felt so absolutely at home. This mess, these small hands, even the shrill laughter and the chaos—she wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Kaelith clambered into her lap, paintbrush in hand, and presented Elysia with her own masterpiece: a page filled with purple swirls and, in the center, a bright red circle. "Mama!" she explained, pointing at the circle.

"That’s me?" Elysia asked, feeling her heart squeeze.

Kaelith nodded, very serious. "Mama strong."

"Thank you, darling." Elysia pressed a kiss to Kaelith’s temple, ignoring the fresh paint she picked up in the process.

Malvoria leaned over, surveying the chaos of color, the wild joy that filled the air. She touched Elysia’s cheek with paint-stained fingers, the connection warm and grounding. "I hope you know this is what I always wanted," she said softly, almost for Elysia’s ears alone. freёweɓnovel.com

Elysia blinked, eyes burning for just a moment. "Me too."

Kaelith chose that exact moment to shout, "Done!"

She flung her painting high into the air, sending flecks of purple everywhere. The other children cheered, delighted by the spectacle, and a few even followed suit, waving their paintings overhead until the whole room was a blizzard of color and laughter.

Mistress Lyran called out, "Hang your pictures to dry—no, not on the cat!—and come wash your hands. Please, please, do not paint the curtains again."

The clean-up was as chaotic as the painting. Kaelith refused to let go of her masterpiece, carrying it aloft as she paraded around the room.

Kael grinned, showing off his dragon painting, and the other children rushed to help string the wet pages across a line by the window, where the sunlight would dry them fast.

At last, when the paint jars were closed, the brushes rinsed, and every child (and adult) had at least one new stain on their clothes, Elysia and Malvoria took a moment to look at what they’d made.

Their painting was a mess of color and shape: Malvoria’s dark silhouette, Elysia’s silver hair, Kaelith’s riotous handprints, and, in the background, a swirl of faces and little monsters—every child who’d joined the game.

Malvoria stepped back, squinting critically, and then broke into a rare, full laugh. "It doesn’t look that bad right now?"

Elysia snorted, brushing a strand of silver hair out of her eyes as she took in their painting. The page was a riot of colors—bold purples, smoky blues, fiery reds, the golden streak Elysia had dabbed onto Malvoria’s nose now smudged into a sunrise in the corner.

There were horns (far too big, and possibly crooked), a wild halo of silver hair, and, of course, Kaelith’s exuberant purple handprints stamped directly over the place where a heart should be.

"No, it doesn’t look bad at all," Elysia decided after a moment, lips twitching in a reluctant smile. "It looks... exactly like us."

Malvoria grinned, glancing from the painting to Elysia. "Chaotic? Colorful? Slightly ridiculous?"

Elysia nudged her with a paint-splattered elbow. "Loved. Very, very loved."

Around them, the orphanage room buzzed with energy. Paintings—some careful, some wild—were pegged to lines strung above the windows, the sunlight streaming through translucent paper and casting colored shadows on the floor.

Children ran in and out of the room, waving their masterpieces, giggling, and sometimes accidentally-on-purpose brushing sticky hands along the walls.

Kaelith had finally abandoned her campaign of exclusive maternal possession and joined Kael and the others in a game of "flying dragons," using her painting as a royal banner.

Elysia and Malvoria stood quietly for a moment, watching Kaelith charge around the room, shrieking with laughter, her face streaked with paint, eyes sparkling with mischief and pride. Elysia’s heart swelled with something so fierce and sweet it made her want to both laugh and cry.

"She’ll remember this, you know," Elysia murmured, sliding her arm around Malvoria’s waist. "Maybe not every detail, but she’ll remember how it felt. The color, the noise, how safe she was."

Malvoria rested her chin lightly atop Elysia’s head. "She’ll remember you. That you were always here."

Elysia grinned, then, not caring about the wet paint or the crowd of children. "We were both here. And somehow, we survived the chaos."

The chaos, however, was never quite finished. Kaelith suddenly appeared at their side, cheeks flushed, holding out her painting—now more splatter than design, and proudly torn in the corner.

"Mama!" Kaelith cried, thrusting the page into Elysia’s hands. "For you!"

Elysia dropped to her knees, accepting the painting with all the solemnity of a queen accepting a crown.

"Thank you, my little artist. I’ll treasure it forever." She pressed a sticky kiss to Kaelith’s cheek, earning a delighted squeal and a wild, painty hug.

Malvoria crouched next to them, and Kaelith clambered onto her knee, grabbing a lock of dark hair and smearing it with purple. "Now you, mama," Kaelith commanded, and Malvoria, with the resigned dignity of a true queen, accepted her new look.

The other children soon followed, eager to bestow their own art upon the royal visitors. Elysia and Malvoria found themselves holding a growing stack of bright, misshapen masterpieces, each more exuberant than the last.

Kael handed over a surprisingly accurate portrait of Malvoria—complete with an enormous crown and what might have been flames in the background.

"Look, mama, hero," Kaelith declared, pointing at the crown.

Malvoria raised a regal eyebrow. "Of course I am. It runs in the family."

Elysia laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes, the sounds of joy and chaos rising around her like music.

She watched as Kaelith darted back to her friends, already plotting the next round of play, her little voice carrying above the din.

Malvoria gently nudged her. "Ready to brave the next round?"

Elysia nodded, holding up their painting—a beautiful, imperfect mess. "It doesn’t look that bad, right now."

Malvoria smiled, eyes warm. "No. In fact, it looks perfect."