Chapter 161: You Look Like A Firefly
Chapter 161: You Look Like A Firefly
Elyn’s POV
Zorathys laughed.
It was a soft sound, forced and slightly too quick, the kind of laugh someone used when the floor beneath them had just cracked but they were hoping no one noticed yet.
"Heh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as his shadows shifted uneasily along the walls. "So... Ignivar."
Ignivar stiffened.
Zorathys’s eyes narrowed just a fraction as he looked at him. "You know... you are one of my only friends in the realm, right? We grew up together, and you know me very well. I’ve also covered for you numerous times. I’ve also saved your life, and that’s one of the reasons why you are working with me, but um... that aside, are you trying to tell the queen you were not sleeping?"
I could smell a threat that wasn’t actually a threat in those words. Zorathys wasn’t very discreet with it after all.
Ignivar opened his mouth, but he didn’t even get to speak before the cute boy he was holding spoke up again.
"My daddy wasn’t sleeping," the small voice declared loudly.
The hall went very, very still.
"Stop lying about him," Aziren added, eyes flashing. "It’s not nice."
"I asked your father a question. I never lied against him," Zorathys told the boy coldly.
"You said he was sleeping though," the boy replied to Zorathys, seemingly not afraid of what Zorathys could do to him. I had no idea if I should praise his bravery or not.
Ignivar swallowed hard. I noticed as his throat bobbed, his shoulders tensed, and his gaze flicked instinctively toward Zorathys like he was bracing for impact. For someone made of fire and authority, he suddenly looked... cornered.
But then again, I couldn’t blame him. He was speaking with Zorathys, who was trying to pin something on him—something that very clearly wasn’t Ignivar’s fault.
Zorathys’s jaw tightened.
"I am curious, Ignivar," he drawled. "Why do you have that with you?"
What did he mean by that? Surely it was not the cute child Ignivar was carrying, right?
I felt my brows knit together, but before I could ask, Ignivar answered.
He cleared his throat nervously. "I couldn’t leave him alone at the castle," he said, voice measured but strained. "Aziren would have been lonely."
Zorathys stared at him.
"You didn’t think," he said, tone sharpening, "that I would be annoyed? Is today bring your nuisance to the palace and annoy the king day?"
I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t ache.
"Oh, for the love of—be quiet, you," I snapped, turning on Zorathys before he could continue. "He’s a child, not a siege weapon. And do I have to remind you that this child is not a nuisance?"
"It looks like one though," Zorathys said. "And it even acts like one."
"He’s a he, Zorathys."
Zorathys spared the child a look, then shrugged his shoulders. "A nuisance all the same. And all nuisances are it. Who cares about their gender?"
"Zorathys, if you don’t want me to take away your novels or your pajamas, then keep quiet," I told him calmly.
He stared at me in shock but kept quiet all the same.
He closed his mouth immediately, shadows stiffening as though they’d been scolded too.
I turned back to Ignivar. "Put him down," I said gently.
Ignivar hesitated.
His gaze flicked—once, twice—between me and Zorathys, uncertainty written plainly across his face. His grip on Aziren tightened just a little, protective instinct screaming louder than court etiquette ever could.
I sighed.
"Don’t look at him," I told Ignivar. "Listen to me instead. That one," I said, pointing at Zorathys, "doesn’t care about children."
Zorathys made an offended sound, and even his shadows reflected it, but that was all he did.
"I’m not going to hurt your son," I added firmly. "Put him down."
Ignivar swallowed again.
Slowly, carefully, he lowered Aziren until the boy’s shoes touched the polished floor. Aziren wobbled for a second before steadying himself, fingers still hooked tightly into Ignivar’s trousers.
I stepped closer.
Every movement felt deliberate now. The room was watching—Zorathys, Naviel, the shadows themselves—but none of that mattered as much as the small demon child standing between lies and truth.
I crouched in front of him, lowering myself to his level.
Up close, there was no mistaking it.
His eyes were Ignivar’s.
The same molten amber glow, bright and alive, just softer around the edges. Less burdened. Less tired.
"What’s your name?" I asked softly.
Aziren looked at me, then immediately back at his father.
Ignivar nodded once, slow and reassuring.
Aziren had one tiny hand fisted into Ignivar’s trousers while the other hovered near his mouth like he wasn’t quite sure whether he should be brave or scared.
He swallowed and brought the hand closer to his mouth, fingers brushing his lip. "Aziren," he said quietly.
I smiled. "That’s a lovely name. I’m Elyn."
He nodded solemnly, studying my face with intense seriousness. Then he said, "You look like a firefly."
I blinked.
Then I laughed, warm and surprised.
"I do?"
He nodded again. "You’re beautiful, and your hair too. It’s bright like a firefly."
Behind me, Zorathys scoffed.
"That’s a lame attempt at flirting with my wife," he muttered, annoyed.
I ignored him.
I turned back to Aziren. "Can I ask you something?"
He nodded.
"Was your daddy sleeping?"
Aziren shook his head immediately, curls bouncing. "No."
"What was he doing?"
"He was playing with me," Aziren said. "And a firefly. Then the gargoyle came and gave him a letter, and Daddy looked surprised, and then we came here."
Simple.
Clear.
Honest.
I smiled at Aziren and lifted my hand, intending to ruffle his hair—then stopped. He was highly flammable, and I wasn’t going to burn my hand just because I wanted to pet him.
I adjusted mid-motion and gently squished his cheek instead. They were very soft and squishy.
Aziren squeaked in surprise, eyes widening before he laughed quietly.
"Thank you," I told him sincerely.
He nodded, clearly pleased with himself.
I stood and turned slowly toward the man who had roped me into being his future wife.
I folded my arms.
"Any more lies to add, future husband?" I asked sweetly.
Zorathys swallowed.
His shadows retreated just a fraction.
"Perhaps," he said carefully, "we can start all over?"