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.
