Chapter 321: The King Who Became a Child Carrier (Against His Will)
Chapter 321: The King Who Became a Child Carrier (Against His Will)
Elyn’s POV
I looked at my hands.
Then I looked at Zorathys.
Then I looked at my hands again.
Wait... what was... no, this was a joke. But no matter how I thought of it... it wasn’t a joke. This was real.
Zorathys had really taken Aziren from my hands. Willingly. Without being asked. Without any prompting whatsoever. The same Zorathys who referred to these children as "pests" and "nuisances" with such consistent disdain that I had assumed he would rather set himself on fire than touch any of them.
And yet, there he was. Holding Aziren like it was the most natural thing in the world. The fire demon child was perched in his arms, his flames still dancing happily, his tears now dried on his cheeks. He looked perfectly content, like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.
I stared at them.
"Are you okay?" I asked him slowly.
Zorathys blinked at me, his ruby eyes carrying that familiar lazy confusion.
"I am fine, Firefly," he said. "Why wouldn’t I be?"
"Because you’re holding a child," I said. "Willingly. Without complaint."
Zorathys looked down at Aziren, then back at me.
"You should not be carrying pests like this in your hands," he said. "Your hands are too precious."
I stared at him.
I closed the small distance between us and pressed the back of my hand against his forehead. Then I held my other hand against my own head, comparing the temperatures.
"Firefly," he said, his voice carrying a note of confusion, "what are you doing?"
"I’m trying to determine if you’re sick," I said. "Because there must be something wrong with you. You took Aziren from my hands willingly. That is not normal. That’s not you."
Zorathys made a face at me.
"There is nothing wrong with me," he said.
"There is," I insisted. "Everything is wrong with you. I think you’ve been possessed. Or cursed. Or maybe you hit your head when you were sleeping."
"I don’t hit my head when I sleep, and something as trivial as that wouldn’t affect me."
"How would you know? You’re sleeping."
Zorathys opened his mouth to argue, but before he could respond, Brixton stepped forward.
He reached out slowly, hesitantly, and touched Zorathys’s arm.
I was almost certain I saw stars in the boy’s eyes.
Zorathys looked down at him, his expression shifting from confusion to mild irritation.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
Brixton’s ears were red. His voice came out small and hopeful.
"Could you carry me too?" he asked.
Zorathys stared at him, and then Zayrion stepped forward, his tails sweeping behind him as he adjusted his glasses.
"And me too?" he asked. "Could you carry me too?"
Zorathys made a face.
His expression was one of utter disgust, like he had been asked to carry a pile of rotting garbage across the room.
"I am not a child carrier," he said.
I shrugged.
"Since you can carry one," I said, "maybe you can carry the rest?"
Zorathys turned to look at me, his ruby eyes widening slightly.
"I am not a child carrier," he repeated, his voice carrying a note of desperation.
"You are now," I said.
He sighed.
It was a long, defeated sigh, and he knew he had lost this argument.
His shadows moved.
They rose from the ground like dark tendrils, curling around the children with surprising gentleness. Zayrion was lifted first, his tails swaying with excitement as the shadows wrapped around him. Velira followed, her wings fluttering with delight. Brixton was next, his red ears still burning but his smile wider than I had ever seen it. Retheris and Thalira were lifted together, their light blue hair brushing against the shadows.
The children made excited faces as the shadows touched them. They reached out, poking and prodding at the darkness, and the shadows responded — playing with them, swirling around them, lifting them higher and letting them float as though they were weightless.
Aziren looked at the others and then back at Zorathys.
"Can you put me with them, Your Majesty?" he asked eagerly.
Zorathys looked at him for a moment, then nodded slowly.
He set Aziren down, and the shadows immediately lifted him up, joining him with the others. The children laughed and squealed as they floated in the air, their small bodies twisting and turning as the shadows carried them around the room.
I watched them for a moment, then turned to Zorathys.
"What about Azerion?" I asked him.
Zorathys made a face.
"The snake dislikes me," he said. "I don’t think he wants to be carried."
Zayrion spoke up from above, his voice carrying that soft, pleading tone that he rarely used.
"Please, Your Majesty," he said.
The others joined in.
"Please," Velira added.
"Please, please, please," Retheris and Thalira chanted.
Aziren nodded enthusiastically, his flames dancing.
I chuckled, though Zorathys looked disgusted.
His gaze shifted to Azerion, who was now standing alone. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the floor.
He was trying very hard to pretend that he didn’t want to join the others.
Zorathys studied him for a moment.
"Do you want to join them?" he asked.
Azerion shook his head.
"No," he said.
Zorathys turned to me.
"See?" he said. "The snake doesn’t want to join."
Azerion’s voice came out shaky.
"I’m not a snake," he said.
Zorathys pointed at Azerion, his gaze still on me, as if to say: See what I have to deal with?
I sighed, then crouched down to Azerion’s height and looked him in the eye.
"Do you want to join the others?" I asked gently.
Azerion hesitated.
"I don’t like the King," he said.
"That’s not what I asked," I said. "I asked if you want to join your friends."
Azerion was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, "I like my friends. But the King doesn’t like me."
Zorathys made a disgusted sound.
"It’s you who doesn’t like me," he said.
I gave Zorathys a look.
He sighed.
And then, dramatically, he mimed zipping his lips shut with his fingers.