Chapter 295: Threats, Petitions, and the King Who Finally Stood Up
Chapter 295: Threats, Petitions, and the King Who Finally Stood Up
Elyn’s POV
For all my thoughts about killing Zorathys — and there had been many, varied, and increasingly creative — I knew I couldn’t actually do it.
He was the Demon King. He had shadows that could throw people into dumpsters. He had lived for over two thousand years. And despite everything, despite the arguing and the laziness and the way he said "Firefly" like it was the only word that mattered, I didn’t actually want him dead.
Mostly.
Sometimes.
Alright, fine. I didn’t want him dead at all.
I sighed and looked directly into that lazy gaze of his — those ruby eyes that always made my traitorous heart dance in my chest like it had forgotten who was in charge.
I was beginning to wonder if the heart even belonged to me anymore.
It only seemed to beat when Zorathys was near.
When he looked at me.
When he said my name in that low, drawling voice of his.
Traitorous little thing.
I blinked at him coyly.
"I understand now," I said.
It was a lie.
I didn’t understand anything he had said.
The shadow dumpster demonstration had made less sense than anything I had ever witnessed, and I had witnessed a lot of nonsense since arriving in the demon realm.
But I didn’t care to understand.
Understanding was not the goal.
The goal was making Zorathys put on a show for me.
I had various dresses in my head already — things he could wear. That beautiful skin of his, those long limbs, those ruby eyes that would look stunning against deep crimson or midnight black or perhaps something soft and flowing that would make him look like a painting.
Just imagining it almost made me drool.
But I remembered my mission.
I had to convince him.
I had to get him to agree.
I had to achieve this fantasy before the children took over again and I lost my chance.
"I have lost energy too," I told him, keeping my voice light.
Zorathys tilted his head. His earrings swayed.
"Once you see some petitions," he said, "you’ll recover your energy. Nothing restores you quite like work, Firefly."
My smile almost slipped.
Petitions.
He was suggesting petitions.
While I was standing here trying to get him to try on clothes, he was suggesting I do paperwork.
I imagined using a pillow to suffocate him.
Not that he would die. He probably didn’t even need to breathe.
But the thought was satisfying.
And like Zorathys could hear my thoughts — which was a terrifying possibility I did not want to examine — he smiled at me.
That lazy, knowing smile that made my heart do the thing again.
"That’s the second time," he said.
I pretended not to know what he was talking about and ignored him.
"There are no petitions here," I told him, gesturing at the room. "We’re in a clothing store. There are no petitions I could read to help me recover my energy."
He waved a hand lazily.
"I can bring some from the palace."
"Shut up," I growled.
Zorathys raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
I realized then that my plan had fallen through.
Pleading hadn’t worked.
Reason hadn’t worked.
Explaining hadn’t worked.
Nothing was working because Zorathys had built an entire logical fortress around himself — one where he was different, where he had a higher position, where watching me dress up was a necessity and not a show, where he somehow didn’t have to participate because we were married, which for fuck’s sake we were not.
It was infuriating.
So I gave up on pleading.
I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and looked him directly in the eye.
"Put on a show for me," I said.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand, stopping him.
"If you refuse," I continued, "you’re not going to get any sleep."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
I moved across the room and settled onto a cushion — not his, but one nearby, close enough that I could see his face clearly.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
"I don’t even want the children this time," I said. "If you refuse to put on the show, then this outing will be cut short. And we won’t do it again."
Zorathys’s shadows stilled.
"I will never go out with you again," I continued, "even if you lock up all the children. Even if you bribe me with food. Even if you send your shadows to carry me out of the palace. I won’t go."
The room was very quiet.
The children had stopped moving.
The fox demons had stopped breathing.
Zorathys’s lips twitched.
"Are you threatening me, Firefly?" he asked.
I nodded.
"If you think so," I said, "then maybe I am."
He stared at me.
I stared back.
The silence stretched.
And then he chuckled.
It was a soft sound, barely more than a breath, but it filled the room.
His ruby eyes crinkled at the corners, and his shadows relaxed around him, and he looked at me like I was the most entertaining thing he had seen in centuries.
"You’re cute, Firefly," he said.
I blinked.
That was not the response I had been expecting.
But, um... let it be known my heart didn’t skip a beat.
...It did.
And I didn’t blush.
...I did.
He stood up lazily then.
Like even standing required effort he wasn’t sure he wanted to expend.
His shadows picked up Aziren and placed him on the cushions, and then he stretched — a long, graceful movement that made his shadows ripple around him — and then he looked down at me.
"Since you asked," he said, "I’ll do what you want."
I beamed at him.
I couldn’t help it.
And then I stood up.
"I have the perfect dress for you," I said.
Zorathys raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything.
And would I care if he did?
No.
I had a show to witness after all, and I was going to have my fill of delicious-looking Zorathys putting on a show for me.