Chapter 132: When the King Returned and the Castle Forgot How to Breathe
Chapter 132: When the King Returned and the Castle Forgot How to Breathe
Elyn’s POV
I knew something was wrong the moment we crossed the threshold.
Not wrong in the quiet, ominous way the castle usually favored—but wrong in the loudest, most offensive way imaginable.
I heard singing. Awful, enthusiastic, soul-murdering singing. I’m not even kidding when I say this song could make one’s ears bleed and make them cease to exist from the world in general. It was that bad.
At some point, I had to cover my ears because the sound I was hearing was so off-key that I could see it in the air, falling apart—musical notes clinging on for life but failing to do so.
"What," I said faintly, "is that?"
Zorathys sighed like even he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "A death sentence or torture disguised as singing," he told me.
"But why are they even singing, and poorly at that?"
Zorathys had teleported us here after getting the culprits behind the child trafficking. We still weren’t done, but everything else would be finished here.
I took a look at the castle that was always so quiet it made one wonder if there were other demons in it at all.
It was filled with chaos. And I don’t know how, but the demons hadn’t noticed us yet.
Marrok stood on one of the raised platforms, arms spread wide, conducting his kind with wild enthusiasm like a demon possessed. His movements were sharp, dramatic, and completely wasted on the gaggle of gargoyles perched along the upper ledges, all singing at different tempos and in entirely different keys.
I clutched my coat. "Why do they sound like they’re dying?"
"Because they are always dying," Zorathys said dryly.
As if the singing wasn’t enough, the servants were everywhere.
And I mean everywhere. I had no idea there were this many servants in the castle.
Demons hurried across the floor carrying cleaning supplies, linens, trays of food, stacks of books—talking loudly over one another, laughing, arguing, gossiping without even pretending to be discreet.
I stared in shock because it was reminiscent of a marketplace.
I turned slowly, taking it all in. A demon servant nearly collided with another and laughed it off. Two others argued cheerfully about missing cutlery. Somewhere to my left, a group of imps had set up what looked suspiciously like a temporary stall.
I frowned. "...Are they selling things?"
Azerion followed my gaze. "Yes."
"To servants?"
"Yes."
"In the main hall?"
"Yes."
"...Is that allowed?"
Zorathys hummed. "It is now."
My shock only deepened when the demons finally noticed us.
It happened all at once.
One second they were chatting and singing and selling questionable goods.
The next—
Silence.
Utter, petrified silence.
Every head turned and froze in shock.
A demon halfway through pouring water simply... stopped. The liquid continued to spill from his hand, pooling on the floor at his feet as he stared at Zorathys in open horror, apparently too terrified to even blink.
Zorathys surveyed the scene with mild interest.
"So," he drawled, voice carrying effortlessly through the hall, "when the cat’s away, the mice really will play."
Panic detonated at that point like a bomb.
Demons scattered in every direction with supernatural speed. Servants fled. Trays clattered as doors slammed.
Imps dropped their wares. One yelped. Another vanished entirely in a puff of smoke. The stall collapsed in on itself as if it had never existed.
The gargoyles launched themselves from their perches in a frenzy.
But that didn’t help them.
One flew directly into a wall. And I thought he’d correct himself, but he continued—repeatedly.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Ow—sorry—sorry—wrong way—"
Another collided mid-air with one of his own kind.
They bounced off each other, spinning around as their eyes spun too.
"Oh! Apologies—"
"My fault—"
They turned the other way, and I can’t even explain it, but they immediately flew into each other again. I don’t understand the mechanics of how that happened at all.
Marrok remained frozen on his platform, baton still raised, eyes wide. Slowly—very slowly—he turned to face Zorathys.
He dropped to one knee so fast I was surprised he didn’t crack the stone beneath him.
"Y-Your Majesty," he said, clearing his throat with visible effort. "Welcome back."
Zorathys waved a hand. "Take care of your kind."
"Yes. Immediately. Right now."
Marrok leapt into action, clapping his hands sharply. "Out! Out, all of you! Formation—no, not that way—outside! Not that way, Bartholomew," he said to a gargoyle that was headed for the fountain. "This way. Follow me."
He herded the gargoyles toward the open arches with frantic gestures, apologizing profusely as one scraped a wing along a pillar.
The hall finally began to resemble itself again.
Zorathys yawned loudly, stretching his arms above his head like the last few minutes hadn’t happened. His wings flexed lazily behind him.
I shot him a look. "Don’t even think about it."
He glanced at me, eyes half-lidded. "Think about what?"
"Sleeping. You are not going to sleep until we finish what we came back for."
He nodded, already swaying slightly. "Mm. Yes. Of course."
Then he vanished.
I stared at the empty space where he’d been. "Zorathys."
His voice echoed faintly from somewhere below. "I’ll wait for you in the dungeon."
Azerion hissed softly beside me. "I dislike him."
I didn’t answer him. I was about to reprimand him when I felt it.
The shift in the air.
I turned—and immediately regretted it.
Seraphielle was approaching.
She strutted toward me, hips swaying with deliberate intent, wings angled just enough to draw attention. Her eyes sparkled like she’d just been handed her favorite weapon.
I am not kidding when I say there were stars in her eyes. Literal stars. The hairs on my body stood, and I shuddered visibly.
Azerion stepped slightly in front of me, teeth bared. "Get away."
Seraphielle rolled her eyes at him. "Hush, serpent."
She stopped just short of invading my personal space and clasped her hands together, tilting her head.
"Your Highness," she said in a voice so sweet it made my teeth ache, "as beautiful as ever. You are here."
I smiled.
Sweetly.
"And I’ll be gone from here soon."
I didn’t wait for her to reply. I turned and started toward the stairs, already planning my next move, when—
Clink.
The sound was small, but I heard it anyway. It sounded like metal against stone. I frowned, then turned, trying to see where the sound had come from.
And there they were.
Rin and Vaelory stood frozen a few steps behind Seraphielle, both attempting—and failing—to look innocent.
Jewelry littered the floor around their feet.
Rin bent down too quickly, scooping up a necklace, only to knock over a bracelet.
Vaelory hissed under her breath, fumbling to pick up a ring while trying to hide behind Rin’s shoulder.
They were not discreet.
At all.