Elysia woke to the gentle thump of footsteps on polished stone, muffled giggles, and a sweet smell of berries and honey.
The room was still dim, the heavy curtains filtering in just enough morning light to gild the edge of the coverlet in gold.
For a heartbeat, she kept her eyes closed, savoring the warmth of the sheets, the familiar hush of their bedchamber—until something cold and sticky pressed insistently against her cheek.
"Mama, wake up! Surprise!" Kaelith's whisper was not a whisper at all, but an excited declaration.
Elysia cracked one eye open and found her daughter standing at the edge of the bed, balancing a wooden tray that was at least half her size.
Malvoria knelt behind her, holding the tray steady with one hand and Kaelith's elbow with the other.
