I Just Wanted A Soft Life, Not A Demon Husband

Chapter 152: Five Counts, Broken Promises, and a King Who Couldn’t Behave

Elyn’s POV

I folded my hands together slowly.

It was a deliberate motion—calm, composed, queenly. The sort of posture that suggested restraint rather than the urge to throw something very heavy at the demon king’s head.

"I am not going to dance for you," I said.

Zorathys blinked at me from where he lounged in his shadow-formed seat, one leg draped lazily over the other, flop-flips still very much present and still an offense to my eyes.

"Hmm," he hummed. "That is unfortunate."

I narrowed my eyes. "I am serious."

"So am I," he replied mildly. Then he tilted his head, ruby eyes glinting with something dangerous and distinctly amused. "However... if you do dance, I will tell you the truth about what actually happened regarding the date of the introductory ball."

I stilled.

That got my attention.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to him. "The truth?"

"Yes."

"No half-truths?"

"No omissions."

"No mysteriously missing details that somehow all point to Naviel?"

A corner of his mouth twitched. "You wound me."

I didn’t look convinced.

"Do you swear by it?" I asked.

The hall seemed to pause. Even the shadows stilled, their usual restlesmovement freezing like they were listening too.

Zorathys straightened slightly. Not fully—he was still far too relaxed—but enough that I knew he understood the weight of the question.

"I swear," he said, placing a hand over his chest. "By my authority."

I studied him for a long moment, searching for cracks, for deception.

Then, slowly, I unfolded my hands.

"...Fine," I said. "I’ll dance."

A spark of triumph flickered across his face before he smoothed it away.

"But," I added sharply, lifting a finger, "you better not laugh."

"I will try not to," he said solemnly.

"That’s not reassuring."

He shrugged. "It is the best I can offer."

I inhaled deeply. "If you laugh," I continued, "you will teach me how to dance. Properly."

That earned me a pause.

Zorathys considered me, eyes thoughtful. Then he nodded once. "Very well. I will try my best."

My eyes narrowed. "You keep saying try."

"It is an honest word," he replied.

I didn’t like that.

Still, I nodded slowly. "Fine."

The music started.

It was the same rhythm Morthen had used earlier—fast, deceptively simple, utterly traitorous. I positioned myself where I had before, ignoring the way everyone’s attention sharpened instantly.

I could feel them watching.

I lifted my foot.

Hop to the left.

Count.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Hop to the right.

Okay. This was fine. I had this.

I focused hard, blocking out everything else. I imagined the steps in my head exactly as Morthen had shown me.

But again, reality and imagination were two different things. My arms moved—perhaps a bit too much—but balance was important, wasn’t it?

Apparently not.

The beat slipped again.

I corrected too fast.

Then too slow.

My timing wobbled like a table with one leg shorter than the others.

I hopped again, counting under my breath, but my foot landed just a fraction too early. I compensated, panicked, and hopped again.

Wrong direction.

I fixed it.

Or tried to.

My arms flailed slightly—purely for balance, I told myself—and I turned a bit more than I meant to.

This was... not going well.

I pushed through.

I told myself confidence was key.

Confidence did not save me.

Not even five minutes had passed when I heard it.

Laughter.

I froze.

The music stopped abruptly.

Slowly, I turned.

Rin and Vaelory were hunched together, shoulders shaking violently. Again, for two people who calmed to dislike each other and lasys gave space, why were they holding each other? Rin had one hand braced against Vaelory’s arm as if she needed physical support to remain upright.

Azerion was laughing too no attempt at restraint, blue eyes bright with mirth.

Velira was giggling, wings fluttering uncontrollably, while Seraphielle covered her mouth—though her eyes sparkled far too much for it to count as discretion.

My gaze snapped to Zorathys.

He wasn’t laughing.

At least... not visibly.

His mouth was set in a neutral line. His expression was composed. His shoulders weren’t shaking.

For half a second, I almost believed him.

Then I noticed the wall behind him.

His shadows.

They looked like they were covering their mouths.

Snickering.

I pointed. "You promised not to laugh."

Zorathys raised both hands calmly. "I am not laughing."

"Your shadows are."

"They have minds of their own."

I glared at him.

He met my glare serenely. "I cannot control their reactions to... whatever that was."

I stared at him for a long moment, deciding whether murder was an acceptable response.

Then—

He laughed.

A full, unrestrained laugh burst from him, rich and loud and completely unapologetic. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking as he laughed harder.

"I tried," he managed between breaths. "Truly, I did."

"You promised," I said flatly.

"I promised I would try," he corrected. "And I did. But Firefly—" He laughed again. "What was that?"

I crossed my arms. "Dancing."

"That was not dancing."

"It was a children’s dance."

"That was an insult to children," he said, wiping at the corner of his eye. "You were more off-beat than gargoyles singing out of tune."

"That is not funny."

"It is," he said immediately. "I have never seen a worse dancer."

My eye twitched.

"And the way you were moving your hands," he continued, laughing again, "if you had been any closer to Morthen, you would have slapped his glasses straight off his face."

Rin burst into fresh laughter. "She’s done that before!"

Zorathys lost it completely.

He laughed harder, head tipping back, shadows writhing around him like they were just as entertained. Even Azerion snorted, trying—and failing—to hide his grin.

I stood there, heat crawling up my neck.

"It is not that funny," I said.

Zorathys wiped his eyes. "It really is."

"There are worse dancers than me."

"I sincerely doubt it."

I narrowed my eyes at him, fury simmering beneath the embarrassment.

"Oh?" I said coolly. "If you find it so funny..."

He raised a brow.

"Then do your job as my husband-to-be," I said, voice sharp and steady, "and teach me."