Chapter 233: Sidelines, Snacks, and Vaelory’s Brief Moment of Glory
Chapter 233: Sidelines, Snacks, and Vaelory’s Brief Moment of Glory
Elyn’s POV
"What?" all four of them asked at the same time.
"I quit," I repeated calmly. "You can keep playing. But I don’t have magic like you do, and if I continue playing with you, I’ll get hurt."
They looked at each other.
Then back at me.
"We’ll behave," Aziren said earnestly.
The other three nodded.
I smiled at them.
It was a very nice smile. Warm. Reassuring.
Completely fake.
Who the fuck were they trying to convince? Me? Yeah... no way.
"If I keep playing with you," I told them pleasantly, "you won’t enjoy the game. So you should all play with each other."
"But—"
"But—"
"Your Majesty—"
"I’ll give you all a gift," I said.
Immediately I said that, silence enveloped us.
"I’ll give you guys a gift if you continue playing," I told them.
Aziren’s ears twitched. He tilted his head. "Picnic?" he asked.
I smiled at him. A real one this time. "If that’s what you want."
He beamed.
Zayrion adjusted his glasses. He was quiet for a moment; it was obvious he was turning the idea in his head before committing to it.
"Hmm, a surprise," he said finally. "I rather like the idea of it."
I nodded.
Azerion crossed his arms. "I’m going to win," he announced, already turning back toward the open grass.
Velira scoffed at that.
Um... I only said I’ll give them a gift if they continue playing, not that I’d give the winner a gift. But... yeah, seeing how excited they were, there was no point in me telling them that. They were already getting back into position.
Though it didn’t go exactly as I planned... that was simple.
I had to admit that I was smart.
That dragon had shown me everything I needed to know.
These were not children playing a game. These were small demons with actual power using a ball as an excuse to use it, and I was a human woman with no magic standing in the middle of it. If I had stayed in that game, I would have been the one at a loss every single time. I had nothing. No fire, no mist, no transformation ability, no three-headed dragon I could summon from a thrown object.
Nothing.
So no. There was no version of this where I continued putting myself in the path of whatever Zayrion decided to do next, or Aziren and his fireballs, Velira and her cute seductions, and Azerion and that spinning ball, and staying out was not cowardice—it was basic self-preservation.
Was it slightly irresponsible? Perhaps. I was supposed to be the adult watching them. But how was I supposed to watch them if I wasn’t alive? Better to keep my head on my shoulders. Better to be over here, under this shade, with the snacks the kitchen staff had arranged on a cloth nearby, watching from a distance where nothing could be summoned directly at my face.
Highly logical. I stood by it completely.
I settled myself under the shade, reached for one of the snacks Kethra had sent out—a small pastry, still warm—and turned my attention to the children.
And honestly?
It was considerably more entertaining from here.
Who would have thought that a game of catch would look like this from the outside? I certainly hadn’t. From this distance, I could see all of it—the full arc of whatever Zayrion transformed the ball into before it reached its target, the way Velira’s mist moved like it had opinions about direction, the way Azerion caught things with a grin that suggested he was having the time of his life.
Aziren was laughing.
He was always laughing, this child. Even mid-game, even when the ball came at him fast or transformed mid-air, he laughed. The little flames in his hair jumped constantly, keeping pace with his mood, which appeared to be excellent.
I ate my pastry and watched them.
Then Aziren threw the ball.
He threw it with that cheerful fire still wrapped around it, the same orange flames from before, and it traveled the distance between him and Zayrion at speed.
Zayrion caught it.
But the fire, apparently, had other ideas about the ball it was wrapped around because a few seconds later... the ball was gone.
There was nothing left but a small pile of ash and smoke.
Aziren’s ears dropped.
He stared at the ash.
Zayrion stared at the ash.
His own ears dropped too, the red tips pointing sadly toward the grass.
All four of them looked at each other.
Then they both turned to look at me.
And I was not going to stop being the cool queen. I had anticipated this, after all.
I snapped my fingers.
From beside me, Vaelory rose.
I don’t know what happened to her in that moment. I genuinely don’t. But something shifted in her bearing as she reached down and picked up the spare ball I had asked to be brought out, and suddenly she was not just Vaelory.
She was someone else entirely.
She stood with the ball in one hand, her chin slightly lifted, her expression smooth and unreadable. The afternoon light caught her at a particular angle. There may have been something in the air around her—I was fairly certain I saw a faint wisp of something, like smoke, curling around her figure and enhancing it, though I could not explain where it came from or why it was there.
A song seemed to play. It was smooth, and it was made for someone’s entrance—in this instance, Vaelory’s entrance.
Vaelory held the ball.
The children watched her.
She looked, in that moment, like someone who had done this a thousand times. Like someone who had been born specifically to deliver spare balls to children mid-game and had mastered it into an art form.
I stared at her.
Then she started walking toward the children.
And here’s where everything fell apart. Her legs were shaking... extremely.
Each step toward the small group of demon children covered the distance with the careful, controlled energy of someone who was very aware that at least one of them had recently summoned a three-headed dragon and another one regularly set things on fire.
The smoke, if it had ever been there, was gone.
The song, if it had ever been playing, had stopped.
She reached the children, set the ball down among them, and then turned and walked back quickly like she was the one on fire and not the ball or Aziren.
Within seconds, she was beside me again, resuming her position with her hands folded in front of her.
Every trace of the entrance was gone. Everything that was cool was gone in the blink of an eye.
Try as I might to hold in my laugh, I couldn’t. I stared at her with a raised eyebrow as my lips twitched.