Chapter 115: Lady Grivessa of the Split-Marsh Who Thinks She Has What It Takes To Challenge Zorathys
Chapter 115: Lady Grivessa of the Split-Marsh Who Thinks She Has What It Takes To Challenge Zorathys
Elyn’s POV
I turned slowly toward the voice.
And immediately wondered if the universe was playing a trick on me, or perhaps the demon realm itself was messing with me.
The demon who had spoken rudely was—by every cruel metric I now apparently qualified for—worse than me. Or maybe she only looked worse because I finally knew what I must look like to everyone else.
Her head was elongated like mine, stretched unnaturally backward, but unlike mine, it forked near the crown—two skulls fused together, not fully separate, sharing a single thick neck that pulsed faintly. One face looked forward. The other tilted slightly to the side, its eye blinking out of sync with the first. Both sets of eyes were glossy and dark, like wet stones.
Her arms were far too long.
Not just long—wrong. They dragged almost to the ground, elbows bending the wrong way, fingers thin and jointed like reeds. Water dripped steadily from her skin, pattering onto the stone slab beneath us as though she were perpetually half-emerged from a marsh.
I blinked once. Then blinked again to make sure that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.
My body reacted before my pride did. I stepped aside automatically, moving out of the main flow of foot traffic, my shoulder brushing close to Zorathys’s arm.
The demon’s mouth curled into something like a sneer.
Zorathys did not move.
He simply turned his head and looked at her.
The temperature around us dipped as he spoke up.
"Who," he asked calmly, "do you think you’re speaking to?"
The demon froze.
Both faces blinked in unison this time, clearly startled that her little outburst had not resulted in immediate submission. Then one head tilted back slightly, lips peeling away from blunt, uneven teeth.
"And do you," she snapped, voice wet and echoing strangely between her two throats, "even know who you’re talking to?"
I frowned, eyes flicking between them.
Zorathys didn’t even pretend to consider it.
"I don’t care," he said.
The demon gasped.
Actually gasped. Both mouths opened, water splashing harder from her skin as her long fingers curled.
Before she could say anything else, the portal behind us flared again.
I turned just in time to see another demon spill out of it—quite literally.
And again... I don’t even know if I should say I was shocked. Okay, maybe I wasn’t, especially after seeing Versha.
This new demon who had stopped had no legs.
Or perhaps he had too many.
His lower half was a thick, segmented centipede body, dozens of dark, chitinous legs rippling beneath him as he scuttled forward with surprising speed. His upper body, however, was almost comically normal—humanoid, broad-shouldered, dressed in a finely tailored suit jacket and crisp shirt that stopped abruptly at the waist, as though the tailor had simply given up halfway through. But I knew it was on purpose, because there would be no reason for the suit to extend further since he was literally crawling.
"Lady Grivessa!" he exclaimed, rushing straight toward the two-headed demon. "Where are you hurrying to? You should slow down."
Grivessa—apparently—whirled toward him, both heads speaking at once.
"It’s the festival, Skelrix," she snapped. "I need the best fabrics before the Mirekin families buy them all. And these—" she jabbed one dripping finger vaguely toward Zorathys, "—things are in the way."
Skelrix followed her gesture, his many legs pausing mid-scuttle as he finally noticed us.
He gave me a quick, curious glance.
I gave him one back.
He didn’t seem to notice.
He leaned closer to Grivessa instead, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You can’t start fights on portal platforms. The wardens fine for that."
She hissed under her breath, then straightened and turned back toward Zorathys, drawing herself up to her full, unsettling height.
"You," she said sharply. "You should learn respect."
Zorathys arched a brow.
Grivessa lifted one of her long, dripping hands and pointed at him. I flinched despite myself—the finger was too close, the joints bending unnaturally, water splashing onto the stone near his boots.
"I am Lady Grivessa of the Split-Marsh," she declared. "Daughter of Baron Ulreth of the Mirekin Scarab-Beast Demons. You will address me properly."
Ah.
So this was what prestigious looked like.
Zorathys’s expression didn’t change.
"I don’t care if you’re the daughter of the duke of the Beast Territory," he replied coolly. "You should know your place."
The silence that followed was immediate and heavy.
Grivessa’s faces flushed a darker, swampy hue. Her fingers trembled, pointing still fixed on Zorathys.
Azerion shifted beside me.
"Uh," he said, stepping forward just a fraction, ears flattening. "Maybe you should drop your hand? You’re kind of scaring the qu—"
I slapped my hand over his mouth so fast I surprised even myself, because I knew if I let him speak, he would give away the fact that I was apparently engaged to the demon king—and I could only imagine what would happen if the other demons found out.
His muffled noise cut off instantly.
I forced a nervous smile and looked up at Grivessa. "Sorry," I said quickly. "I just... get jumpy sometimes."
Grivessa’s nearer face narrowed its eyes. "Jumpy?" she echoed. "Why would you be jumpy?"
Before I could answer, Zorathys growled.
It was low. Quiet. But it vibrated through the stone beneath my feet.
"That," he said, voice edged with something dangerous, "is none of your business."
Grivessa recoiled a half-step, then rounded on me instead, both faces glaring.
"Control him," she snapped. "He’s unruly."
I stared at her.
Zorathys turned his head slowly.
"No one controls me," he said, each word deliberate. "If anything, you should control yourself."
That did it.
Grivessa’s skin darkened further, water dripping faster now, splashing audibly. Her hands curled into claws, joints cracking softly as she leaned forward.
"You are disrespectful," she hissed.
"You were disrespectful first," Zorathys replied flatly.
Azerion nodded vigorously, agreeing with Zorathys.
I swallowed.
This was escalating far too quickly.
I could feel it—the tension coiling tighter, the way Zorathys’s shadows stirred at his feet, restless and eager. If they came out, then everyone would know who Zorathys was, and we couldn’t have that happening.
Grivessa looked ready to lunge. Skelrix was already backing away, muttering something about fines and collateral damage.
I stepped forward before my common sense could argue harder.
"Everyone," I said, raising my hands slightly, "can we all just calm down for a moment?"
No one listened.
Grivessa surged closer, claws flexing.
Zorathys’s eyes darkened.
And I was very, very sure that if he so much as blinked—
Lady Grivessa of the Split-Marsh would cease to exist.