I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 296: Don’t punish the baby

Morning came too soon.

Malvoria had always been an early riser training made it habit, and ruling made it necessity but even she had to admit that Kaelith had changed what early meant.

Because Kaelith didn’t wake up with the sun.

Kaelith summoned the sun.

Loudly.

From the foot of the bed.

"Mama! Yah! Yah-yah-yah!"

Malvoria blinked one eye open and groaned as a tiny hand smacked her thigh.

Elysia, still half tangled in the sheets, let out a sleepy "Nooo... betrayal..." before pulling the covers over her head.

Kaelith stood with one hand braced on the edge of the bed, her silver and red curls a chaotic cloud and her eyes bright with purpose. She didn’t need food. She didn’t need a change.

She needed Aliyah.

"Yah," Kaelith insisted again, more urgently this time, now climbing onto the bed like a determined goat. "Mama, Yah."

"I know," Malvoria said, dragging herself upright. "We’ll see her soon. But we have other things to do first."

Kaelith didn’t care.

She threw herself onto Malvoria’s lap with the force of a miniature warlord and grinned as if she’d just conquered a kingdom.

Malvoria kissed the top of her daughter’s head and reached for her robe. "Let the chaos begin."

---

The castle was already stirring.

They’d been warned. The Celestial Queen never arrived late, and she never arrived quietly.

Servants dashed through corridors with floral garlands and trays of crystal. The entrance hall had been washed twice. Veylira was already dressed and barking orders with her usual calm intensity, checking every pillar, rune, and archway.

Even Raveth had ironed her shirt.

The sun hadn’t fully risen, but the light already gleamed off the obsidian floors, catching the crimson banners that Elysia had insisted on adding to "balance the mood."

Malvoria approved. Subtle hostility. Very effective.

Kaelith was still shouting "Yah" every few minutes as they moved from room to room. She wriggled in Malvoria’s arms like a child possessed, occasionally grabbing at garlands or attempting to chew on furniture.

"Someone’s excited," Veylira muttered as they passed.

"She’s been saying Aliyah’s name since dawn," Malvoria said.

"Impressive. Mine didn’t speak until sixteen months. Of course, she was raised in a battle camp."

"Explains a lot," Malvoria murmured, and Veylira elbowed her lightly as they walked.

By the time Elysia joined them hair braided, boots polished, Kaelith’s emergency fruit pouch already clipped to her belt, the guards at the outer gates had announced the approach of the royal Celestial convoy.

A procession of silver-winged carriages and illusion-enshrouded guards spilled into the front courtyard like snowfall laced with judgment.

Malvoria stood at the top of the stairs, Kaelith perched in one arm, Elysia just behind her. Veylira and Raveth flanked the steps like living statues.

Sarisa remained inside with the baby, as agreed. She would appear after the queen had made her initial entrance and had time to look around and pretend she held the reins of power.

Malvoria had no intention of letting her.

The Celestial Queen emerged as if sculpted from frost and starlight tall, imposing, and draped in a robe so impractically beaded it must have taken twelve attendants just to help her sit.

Her gaze swept the stairs.

Then landed on Kaelith.

The child, completely unbothered by regal presence or interdimensional political weight, let out a shriek of delight.

"YAH!"

The queen blinked.

"That’s not her name," Malvoria said calmly. "It’s what she calls her new cousin."

"I see," the queen said, tone as flat as a glacier. "A demon child speaking in Celestial tongue. Curious."

Elysia’s shoulders tensed behind her.

"Kaelith speaks in her tongue," Malvoria said, the warning clear.

The queen merely nodded, then began the slow climb up the steps, her train floating unnaturally behind her.

She stopped just in front of them.

Kaelith blew a raspberry directly into her face.

There was a long, long silence.

Elysia tried not to choke.

Malvoria simply adjusted her grip. "She likes to greet new people."

"She is... spirited."

"Your Majesty," Malvoria said coolly, "shall we move inside?"

They did.

The reception hall had been prepared with meticulous care. Low sunlight spilled across the floor.

A fire crackled in the hearth one enchanted to smell like orange blossoms and cedar.

Plates of carefully selected fruit, seed cakes, and nectar infusions lined a long table that no one would actually eat from.

The queen barely glanced at it.

She settled herself on the main chair like it was a throne ignoring the fact that it wasn’t and turned sharply as Sarisa entered with the child.

Aliyah was cradled in soft twilight-blue wraps, asleep.

Sarisa looked tired. Strong. Unapologetic.

Lara walked just behind her, hands behind her back like she wasn’t ready to stab someone if things went badly.

Aliyah let out a tiny snore.

Kaelith perked up.

"Yah!"

Lara grinned.

Sarisa approached and stopped in front of the queen.

"This is my daughter," she said clearly. "Her name is Aliyah."

The queen’s face didn’t change.

"May I?" she asked.

Malvoria tensed.

Sarisa hesitated then nodded and moved closer.

The queen reached down and peeled back the cloth over the child’s face.

She looked.

Longer than necessary.

She saw the red eyes.

The horns.

The black in her hair.

She said nothing.

Finally, she looked at Sarisa.

"There will be questions."

Sarisa’s voice was ice. "Let them come."

"You’ve chosen to remain here. With demons."

"I’ve chosen to remain with family."

A pause.

"A queen must—"

"A queen," Sarisa interrupted, "is not made by title or proximity to power. She is made by her choices."

The queen’s eyes narrowed.

But before she could respond.

Elysia, still holding Kaelith and still trying to maintain a shred of royal restraint, said—loudly, clearly, and with no remorse:

"Oh, for fuck’s sake."

The words hung in the air like smoke, sharp, irreverent, absolutely not in the script.

Everyone turned at once.

Malvoria didn’t move.

Elysia stood there with Kaelith balanced on her hip, unbothered and unrepentant, eyes fixed on the Celestial Queen as if daring her to say something else judgmental about the baby.

Malvoria, meanwhile, was trying to decide if she should laugh or bury her face in her hands.

Because, on one hand it was inappropriate. Blasphemous. Potentially ruinous to interrealm diplomacy.

On the other hand it was also richly deserved.

Kaelith let out a delighted, "Yah!" like she approved of the tension, flinging her arms wide. One of her tiny fists flung a piece of fruit from her pouch, which hit the floor with a wet splat.

The queen’s lips pressed into a narrow line.

Sarisa blinked slowly, her expression a delicate balance of amusement and sheer exhaustion.

Lara, standing just behind her, looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Veylira made a small sound somewhere between a cough and a strangled chuckle.

Raveth looked openly delighted.

The queen stood. Smoothly. Too smoothly.

"She’s tired," Malvoria offered quickly, gesturing toward Elysia. "And a little overwhelmed. Kaelith’s been shouting all night. You understand."

The queen’s gaze shifted to her daughter.

"I understand more than you think," she said coolly.

There it was.

A truth everyone knew but rarely said aloud.

The queen loved Sarisa. Deeply. Fiercely.

But she was also bound chained, really by the golden yoke of tradition. Of centuries of Celestial bloodlines untouched by demonkind. Of marriages arranged by stars and politics. Of public image and sacred law.

And now here Sarisa was.

Unwed. Unmoved. Holding a half-demon child with horns and red eyes.

Malvoria felt the tension twist around the queen’s silence like a noose.

"It is," the queen said slowly, "a complicated situation."

Elysia stepped forward, handing Kaelith to Malvoria. "No, it’s not."

Malvoria’s eyes widened. "Elysia—"

"She’s a child," Elysia continued. "A beautiful, innocent child who did nothing wrong except be born from love and bad timing. You don’t have to bless her. You don’t have to recognize her politically. But if you say one more cold, veiled thing in front of her mother, I swear I will throw you off that balcony."

There was a beat of absolute silence.

Then Kaelith, thrilled by the drama, shouted: "Boom!"

The queen blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then, softly almost too softly she said, "She looks like my sister."

Sarisa’s eyes widened.

No one spoke.

The queen stepped closer to the cradle, not touching, just looking again.

"She had the same look. Wild. Sharp. Well no horns. Not like this child’s, but close enough. She gave it all up for someone she loved. And we called her a disgrace."

She didn’t sound angry.

She sounded tired.

Lara stepped forward then, slow and careful. "We’re not asking you to break the laws. Just... don’t punish the baby for them."

Another pause.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, the queen sat back down.

"She will not be named in court."

Sarisa stiffened.

"But," the queen continued, "she will be protected. Quietly. Discreetly. As one of mine."

Sarisa’s jaw clenched. "She deserves more than that."

"And one day, perhaps she’ll get it. But not now. Not while the high houses still whisper about impurity."

Kaelith, apparently sensing the need for drama, climbed onto Malvoria’s shoulder and shouted, "YAH!" again.

The queen glanced up.

Then—to the absolute confusion of everyone—she smiled.

A tiny, brittle smile.

"She’s relentless," the queen murmured.

"She’s ours," Malvoria replied.