Chapter 287: Fashion, Foxes, and the King Who Voted With Shadows
Chapter 287: Fashion, Foxes, and the King Who Voted With Shadows
Elyn’s POV
If anyone had told me that within the next few minutes I would be putting on a show for everyone in the room, I wouldn’t have believed them.
After all, they didn’t seem like demons interested in that sort of thing. The children were children — easily distracted, more interested in snacks and bubbles and wiping invisible stains from mats. The fox demons were professionals, trained to assist with quiet efficiency, not to sit back and judge.
But now I was putting on a show for everyone in the room.
Velira, Brixton, and Thalira were the ones dressing me up, their small hands grabbing fabrics and draping them over my shoulders with more enthusiasm than expertise. The others — Azerion, Aziren, Retheris, and Zayrion — were scattered around the room, rating each outfit like they had been doing this their entire lives.
And worse of all, the fox demons who had come to assist us were now taking part in the show.
They had abandoned their trays and their professional detachment. They sat on the cushions near the window, their tails swaying, their ears twitching with interest. One of them had even pulled out a small notebook — I had no idea where she had gotten it — and appeared to be taking notes.
Oh wait, that wasn’t even the worst part.
The worst part was Zorathys.
He was no longer asleep.
He was no longer hidden in his corner behind the fox-and-moon screen.
He was sitting on a pile of cushions near the center of the room, his shadows spread around him like a dark carpet, and he was being so active in this that I felt like I should use something to hit him upside the head.
He even had Aziren on his lap.
The fire demon child was perched there comfortably, his small flames flickering with happiness, his amber eyes fixed on me as I stood in the middle of the room wearing whatever the children had decided to put me in next.
Zorathys’s shadows were also participating.
They had formed themselves into small, shadowy shapes — hands, mostly, with thumbs that could point up or down — and they were voting separately from Zorathys himself. Each shadow had its own opinion. Each shadow made it known.
That was how active he was in this.
I currently wore a dark blue gown.
It was the one Brixton had been examining earlier — the deep blue silk that had caught his attention. Velira had spotted it and immediately declared that I needed to try it on. Brixton had carried it over carefully, his ears red, his eyes determined. Thalira had helped me step into it while Velira adjusted the straps.
The gown was beautiful.
It was the kind of dress that made you feel like you should be standing in a moonlit garden while someone wrote poetry about you.
The bodice was fitted, hugging my torso in a way that was snug but not uncomfortable. The neckline dipped low — lower than anything I would have chosen for myself — showing off my cleavage almost fully like how Seraphielle liked to show hers. But the silk was soft against my skin, cool and smooth, and the deep blue colour made my red hair look like flames against the night sky...that’s what Thalira said at least.
From the waist down, the gown flowed freely. There was no constriction, no tightness, just layer after layer of silk that moved when I turned. The hem brushed the floor, pooling slightly around my feet, and the back of the gown trailed behind me in a small train that Velira had insisted was "absolutely necessary."
Small silver embroidery ran along the edges of the bodice — tiny flowers, barely visible unless you were close, catching the light and shimmering faintly.
It was a gown designed for someone who wanted to be noticed.
And at this moment, everyone in the room was noticing.
Zorathys had removed the veil he cast over all of us.
When the fox demons had first entered, they had seen us as ordinary customers — nothing remarkable, nothing worth noting. But at some point Zorathys had lifted the disguise.
When the fox demons realized who we were, they almost collapsed.
Their ears went flat. Their tails dropped. Their faces paled beneath their fur.
But they were professionals. They recovered quickly, bowing and stammering apologies for not recognizing us sooner.
Thankfully, they didn’t faint.
But then Velira and Brixton took over, and the fox demons had no choice but to sit back and watch.
And now here I was.
Standing in the middle of the Celestial Chamber, wearing a dark blue gown that showed off my cleavage, while children, a demon king, his shadows, and a group of fox demons rated my appearance like I was a painting in a gallery.
"Okay," Velira said, stepping back to admire her work. "What do we think?"
The voting began immediately.
Zorathys raised his hand lazily.
"A hundred," he said.
His shadows echoed him.
One shadow formed a hundred with its little shadow fingers. Another gave a thumbs up so enthusiastic it wobbled. A third simply pointed at me and then at Zorathys, as if to say obviously.
Aziren, still perched on Zorathys’s lap, nodded immediately.
"A hundred," he echoed, his voice bright and certain.
Zayrion adjusted his glasses and held up a small card he had produced from somewhere...don’t ask me where because I have no idea.
It said seven.
No — wait.
I squinted.
It was a ten.
The lighting was just strange.
"Ten," he said. "The embroidery is well done, and the colour complements Her Majesty’s complexion."
Retheris shrugged.
"Ten," he said.
Azerion chewed on a snack — another one, because of course — and squinted at me.
"Four," he said.
I blinked.
"Four?" I repeated.
He nodded, completely serious.
I stared at him.
Then I sighed.
Zorathys turned to the children, his ruby eyes half-lidded, his expression carrying that lazy authority he wore like a second skin.
"Your opinions don’t count though," he said. "Only mine does."
Aziren nodded immediately, as if this was the most reasonable statement he had ever heard.
Azerion frowned.
"Why?" he asked.
Zorathys looked at him.
"She is my wife." He said, gesturing toward me.