Chapter 175: A Nuisance Who Will Steal The Queen From Zorathys
Chapter 175: A Nuisance Who Will Steal The Queen From Zorathys
Ignivar did not move immediately after Zorathys finished speaking.
He stood there in the suffocating darkness of the King’s chamber, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back in a posture that suggested calm but concealed a great deal of internal screaming.
Shock came first.
It was not the kind that made one gasp or step back. It was quieter than that—an inward pause, a moment where his thoughts stumbled as they tried to process the words Zorathys had just told him and file them under something reasonable.
They failed.
Then came the second emotion, creeping in behind the first like an old acquaintance.
Resignation.
Because as absurd as it was, Ignivar could not say he was truly surprised. This was Zorathys, after all. Demon King. Lord of shadows.
Still.
Aziren?
Ignivar inhaled slowly through his nose, the faint embers of his hair flickering as he did. He cleared his throat once, carefully. He did not rush to speak. Rushing to speak around Zorathys was how one died.
"Your Majesty," Ignivar began, voice respectful, measured, and very deliberately neutral, "I... doubt that my son intends to take the Queen away from you."
Zorathys’s ruby eyes shifted to him at once.
The shadows in the room seemed to lean in.
Ignivar continued, choosing every word like it might explode if handled incorrectly. "Aziren is a child. He likes to play. That is all." He hesitated, then added, because it was the truth and because honesty had always been his weakness, "And if I am being entirely honest, he seems far more interested in your shadows than in anything else."
Aziren really was interested in Zorathys’s shadows; he even cried when Ignivar told him he couldn’t do what Zorathys did.
Zorathys stared at him with disgust.
"Why," Zorathys asked slowly, his tone flat and edged with disbelief, "would your nuisance be interested in my shadows?"
Ignivar did not even flinch at the word nuisance. Almost everyone was a nuisance to Zorathys, especially children. He hated how much noise they created.
"That is not something a child like him could even understand," Zorathys told him.
Internally, Ignivar thought, If only you knew.
If only Zorathys knew how Aziren’s eyes had lit up when he had seen the shadows move on their own and embrace Zorathys as he teleported from the hall.
And how thankful Ignivar was—deeply, profoundly thankful—that it had been the Queen herself who had promised Aziren she would show him the shadows again someday.
Not him.
Ignivar cleared his throat again. "He saw them," he said aloud. "And he... liked them."
Zorathys’s expression twisted immediately.
He rolled his eyes, sharp and dramatic. "That makes no sense either way."
The shadows rippled faintly, as though reacting to his irritation.
"But just because your nuisance finds my shadows amusing does not mean he gets to steal my wife from me," Zorathys continued, voice cool and clipped.
Ignivar blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"With respect, Your Majesty," he said carefully, "my son is playing with the Queen."
Zorathys let out a humorless laugh.
"That is how it always starts."
Ignivar frowned despite himself. "How what starts?"
"They start by enjoying her company," Zorathys said, gesturing vaguely toward the scrying veil, which still hovered in the air, showing the Queen seated in the garden with Aziren and Azerion. "They laugh with her. They play with her. They grow accustomed to her attention."
Ignivar followed his gaze, brow furrowing deeper. He saw exactly what he had seen before.
Nothing more.
"And then," Zorathys continued, voice lowering, "before one realizes it, she is spending more time with the nuisances than with me."
Ignivar’s confusion grew.
"You are... concerned," he said slowly, "that my son will monopolize the Queen’s attention?"
"Yes."
"And that she will... neglect you?"
Zorathys turned his head slightly, fixing Ignivar with a sharp look. "I am her husband."
Ignivar opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
He tried a different approach. "Your Majesty," he said, genuine confusion threading through his voice now, "Aziren is not going to take the Queen away from you. He is a child. He plays. That is all he is doing."
"And you truly believe," Zorathys replied, unimpressed, "that my wife would not ignore me to play with children?"
Ignivar hesitated.
Because—well.
He didn’t know the answer to that, and he didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth.
"I find it unlikely," he said carefully. "The Queen is... quite fond of you."
Zorathys did not respond immediately.
Instead, he lifted his wine glass and took a sip.
Then he grimaced.
The expression was immediate and severe. He looked at the glass as though it had personally betrayed him.
"Tch."
One of the shadows slipped forward at once, fluid and silent. It plucked the glass from Zorathys’s hand before the King could even set it down.
Another shadow appeared with a different glass.
This one darker.
The scent alone was richer.
Zorathys accepted it without looking, took a sip, and visibly relaxed.
"That one is acceptable," he muttered.
Naviel, who had remained silent for the entirety of the exchange, shifted slightly. His discomfort had only grown. He did not like this room. He did not like this conversation. And he especially did not like being dragged into matters involving children, queens, and the King’s insecurities. He had no idea why he was even here in the first place, especially given that his child wasn’t the one playing with the Queen—he didn’t even have a child.
Zorathys turned back to Ignivar, wine glass now secure in his hand.
"Swear it," he said.
Ignivar blinked. "Swear... what?"
"That your nuisance," Zorathys said smoothly, "will not take all of my wife’s attention and cause her to neglect me."
The room seemed to grow quieter.
Ignivar stared at him, trying to see if Zorathys was joking, but it was obvious he wasn’t.
Ignivar’s throat felt dry. He glanced sideways at Naviel again.
Naviel shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly, a silent do not involve me written plainly across his face. He looked mildly offended to even be associated with this oath. And yet here he was.
Ignivar turned back to the King.
He valued his life.
That fact alone guided his next words.
"I..." He hesitated, then straightened slightly. "I swear," he said, voice uncertain despite his best efforts, "that my son will not take all of the Queen’s attention... nor cause her to neglect you."
The words hung in the air.
Zorathys studied him intently.
Then—he smiled. It was slow, dangerous, but satisfying.
"Good," Zorathys said softly.
Ignivar’s shoulders relaxed by a fraction.
"I will remind you of this moment," Zorathys continued, lifting his glass slightly, "when it inevitably happens."
Ignivar knew one thing for certain at that point—he was going to regret this.