Chapter 330: The Favour That Kept Growing and the Children Who Wouldn’t Stop Talking
Chapter 330: The Favour That Kept Growing and the Children Who Wouldn’t Stop Talking
"The Queen is extremely beautiful. She feels like a femon," Dracolthar told Zorathys.
They were currently in Zorathys’s bedroom, and everywhere was dark, filled with his shadows, which was exactly how he wanted it for the night. The only colour in the room was that of his ruby eyes and Dracolthar’s four glowing ones. The shadows curled and shifted around them, creating a cocoon of darkness that Zorathys found comforting.
They had been in the room for over thirty minutes now, but Dracolthar had not stopped telling Zorathys that the Queen was beautiful. Zorathys knew that, of course. He didn’t need a Dracolthar to tell him what he already knew. But it was quite irritating that Dracolthar had noticed the Queen’s beauty and wouldn’t shut up about it.
Why was he going on and on about the Queen’s beauty?
But more than that...
"Femon?" Zorathys asked Dracolthar.
The demon had always said "demon," and now he said "femon"? It was a word Zorathys hadn’t heard before. He tilted his head, his earrings swaying with the movement, and his ruby eyes narrowed slightly.
"Female demon," Dracolthar told him proudly, his voice echoing in Zorathys’s mind. "A femon is a female demon. I made it up myself. Do you like it?"
Zorathys gave him an unimpressed look, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"That’s the best you could come up with?" he asked. "Femon? That’s what you spent centuries thinking about?"
"It suits her though," Dracolthar replied, his four eyes blinking happily. "She’s very pretty. Very, very pretty. Her hair is like fire, and her eyes are like the sky. And when she speaks, her voice is like—"
"The only reason you are allowed to say she’s beautiful tonight," Zorathys interrupted, his voice carrying that familiar lazy drawl, "is because you helped me survive the night."
"Does that mean I no longer owe you a favour?" Dracolthar asked, his voice brightening with hope. His massive body shifted, and his tails wagged slightly.
"Of course," Zorathys drawled.
Dracolthar brightened at his words, his massive body seeming to relax. The tension left his wings, and his four eyes gleamed with satisfaction. But then Zorathys spoke up again.
"You now owe me eight hundred and fifty-five million, two hundred and eighty-four thousand favours."
Dracolthar’s four eyes widened in shock. His wings stiffened, and his tails went still.
"That’s... that’s not possible," he said. "That’s too many favours. That’s not even a real number."
Zorathys yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. His shadows curled around him like a blanket, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening again.
"Eight hundred and fifty-five million, two hundred and eighty-four thousand favours," he repeated slowly, as if savouring the words. "That’s what you owe me."
"Your Majesty," Dracolthar said, his voice carrying a note of genuine complaint, "you’re very mean. That’s not how favours work. You can’t just keep adding to them."
Zorathys’s lips curved into a small smile as he settled against his body pillow.
"Thank you," he said. "I try."
The truth was that during the journey, while Dracolthar was on his way to them, he had communicated with him and told him to lie to the Queen because Zorathys was on a mission to keep his head atop his neck. He liked the Queen’s violence—he really did—but he was not about to lose his head. Though, to be honest, she wouldn’t be able to kill him because he was much stronger than her. Even so, he respected her too much not to do what she had asked him... if that was what what he was doing could be called.
"Why do the favours keep increasing?" Dracolthar asked, his voice carrying genuine frustration. "It was just one favour. One. I agreed to one. I did what you asked. I told the Queen what you wanted me to tell her. I helped you. And now you’re telling me I owe you millions?"
Zorathys yawned again, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. His shadows shifted around him, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep at any moment.
"Favours compound," he said lazily. "Interest. You should know that. It’s basic demon economics."
Dracolthar blinked his four eyes rapidly.
"That’s not how favours work," he said. "That’s not how anything works. There’s no such thing as favour interest."
"It’s how I work," Zorathys replied, his eyes already closing. "My rules. My favours. My interest."
Dracolthar sighed, his massive body deflating slightly. His wings drooped, and his tails curled around him.
"It’s only one favour I owe you, Your Majesty. One. Not eight hundred million. Just one. The one I agreed to."
Zorathys ignored him completely. His breathing was already becoming even, and his shadows had stilled around him.
"Why are you even still in the palace?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. "Shouldn’t you go back to where you came from? Don’t you have somewhere to be?"
Dracolthar made a face, his horns curling slightly.
"I don’t want to go back," he said. "The palace is more peaceful. And the shadows are comfortable. And the Queen is—"
"Don’t start," Zorathys warned, his eyes still closed.
Dracolthar was silent for a moment.
Then he spoke again.
"Can I perhaps go out with you tomorrow?" he asked. "On your outing?"
Zorathys hummed in his sleep.
It wasn’t a reply at all. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, and his shadows had stilled around him. He was already asleep, lost in whatever dreams he conjured.
But Dracolthar would take that as a yes.
Meanwhile, deep in the Thalassar Domain, in the castle where the Duke and Duchess resided, the evening was unfolding in a very different way.
The dining hall was beautiful, as it always was. Pale blue stones lined the walls, reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The table was long and elegant, carved from dark wood that had been polished to a mirror shine. And seated around it were the Duke, the Duchess, and their two children.
Retheris and Thalira were telling their parents everything they had enjoyed on their outing. Their voices overlapped, their hands gestured wildly, and their hair swayed with every excited movement.
"The King was so awesome," Retheris added. "He carried us with his shadows. He let us play with them. They made snacks and mountains and fire and everything."
"We picked out dresses for Her Majesty," Thalira continued. "We picked out so many dresses, and she tried them all on."
Their father, Caleth, gave them a suffocated look. He could not, for the life of him, understand why his children, for some reason, liked the King more than they feared him. And that made him even more frightened. He had seen Zorathys in action. He had witnessed the Demon King’s power. He had seen the way Zorathys could destroy entire armies with a flick of his wrist. And yet his children were sitting there, talking about him like he was some kind of hero.
Faelyra, his wife, just sighed and took a sip of her wine. She didn’t speak, but she shared the same thoughts as him.