Chapter 66: Balls, Protocols, and a Wet Queen
Chapter 66: Balls, Protocols, and a Wet Queen
Elyn’s POV
"I might have an idea," I said.
The idea was basic but it was something that was very common in Aelthryn because they loved it.
"What is it?" he asked me.
"How about we do a ball?" I asked him. "The people in Aelthryn love balls and every noble uses it as an opportunity to show off so..." I trailed off, shrugging my shoulders.
"A ball?" he echoed slowly. "You want me to throw a ball so you can be introduced to the nobles?"
"Yes," I said. "A ball. Formal invitations. Music. Food. Dancing. Everyone turns up in their finery. You announce me— ’Ladies and gentlemen, the Queen’—and that’s that. Protocol satisfied, nobles introduced, I get to work more freely too."
He stared at me.
Then he yawned.
"Do you know how much work goes into balls?" he asked, as if the word "work" were a rare and unpleasant thing he’d only encountered once and wanted to complain about indefinitely.
"Yes," I said, because of course I did. "You hire, you invite, you decorate, you secure the guest list, you make sure everyone knows who sits where—"
"And you know nothing of the demon nobility," he said. "Do you know who is who? Which family outranks the other? How to dress and greet them? Who they have a grudge against? Because let me tell you—grudges are normal here, and almost everyone has a grudge against everyone."
"I’ll learn," I told him.
He considered me with that lazy look of his, miming the expression of someone seriously weighing a particularly inconvenient nap against an even more inconvenient nap. "You want to kill yourself," he said at last.
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said you want to kill yourself. It seems you like working a lot. How is it that you are looking for an opportunity to do work when you should be enjoying the benefits of not doing any?" he asked me.
Imagine a lazy demon reminding me that I should not be doing work because I planned on living a peaceful, lazy life.
"It’s not like I enjoy working. It’s just... I can only imagine what people who have written petitions to you for over five hundred years must be going through. There must have been a reason why they wrote it to you, and you are just too lazy to do the work," I told him truthfully.
"I work," he told me.
"The last time the petitions were attended to in full was five hundred years ago," I said.
"But it’s still work," he told me.
"It is neglect."
"It is not neglect—it is delegation. The realm can run itself. People tend to their own problems. They like to write to me because they enjoy the drama of it."
"You made people write things on a single line because you were too lazy to read long scrolls," I said flatly. "You made petitions more like demands so you could clear them in minutes. That’s not delegation; that’s... elegant sloth."
He snorted the smallest, almost contented sound. "Alright, maybe I’m lazy."
"Maybe?" I said.
He shrugged. "It’s not the worst quality. I prefer leisure to that constant grind. And the realm does fine. Mostly."
"Mostly?" I echoed.
"Yes, mostly," he told me.
"Also—you can do whatever you want in the realm now. You are queen. If you want to hold a ball and introduce yourself to the nobles, do it. You don’t need my permission. The kingdom is yours to rule as much as it’s mine to laze away in."
I stared at him in shock. How was it that this lazy demon was giving me rights to do whatever I wanted when the humans didn’t see it fit that a woman should do something without the permission of her husband?
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Completely," he said, rolling the word out like something he’d tasted and found agreeable. "If you want to hold a ball, hold a ball. Invite who you please. Send the ravens, the gargoyles, the servants. Do anything you want."
"That’s it?" I asked, incredulous.
"That’s it," he confirmed. Then, with the kind of finality reserved for people who were committed to not moving unless the world was literally burning, he added, "Since we are done with everything, please leave now."
I knew that was all Zorathys was going to do. Every other thing was in my hands. I’d just have to speak with Morthen and the others and they’d help with finalizing everything.
I turned to leave, searching around for the door. And like the other times, like it knew I was searching for it, it appeared—but this time at the far end of the room—its black wood folding into place like a patient animal waiting politely to be petted. I moved toward it, polite smile still in place.
I grabbed the handle and pushed it open. And immediately I did so, my clothes became wet as water poured into the room.
Some of the aquatic creatures I had seen before when I was in his room were now laying on the floor, flapping on the wet wood. I looked outside and saw how the water had turned into a wall.
My clothes, my hair—everything was so fucking wet.
I couldn’t control it. The anger that filled me—I couldn’t control it and frankly, I didn’t want to.
"ZORATHYS!" I screamed in anger.
Immediately, the door disappeared like it was scared of me.
In an instant, Zorathys’ eyes were open—fully awake, alarm replacing the habitual haze. The sleepy, sleep-addled king I had negotiated with seconds ago was gone.
He took in the mess—then looked at me with an expression that could best be described as sheepish and regrettable.
He glanced at the floor then back at me. He did it two more times while I stared at him with what I assumed was smoke coming out of my head.
And in typical Zorathys fashion, he said, "Oops."