Chapter 185: Dressed To Kill...At Least That’s What Zorathys Claims
Chapter 185: Dressed To Kill...At Least That’s What Zorathys Claims
Elyn’s POV
"Why are you dressed to kill?" Zorathys asked me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "That better be a compliment."
Given how most things had a different meaning when it came to the demon realm, one had to be sure. I had to be certain that Zorathys did not mean that I was dressed to kill... literally.
He gave me a lazy look. "It’s similar."
I turned to Rin then because I knew she would tell me the truth.
"It’s a compliment, my lady."
Zorathys chuckled. "You didn’t believe me?"
"Oh, I did, but I just wanted to be certain it was a compliment," I told him.
"Anyway, since you asked, it’s a luncheon, Zorathys," I replied evenly. "The prelude to the main ball. Of course I’m going to dress to kill."
His brow arched slightly.
"I can’t look underdressed among the other demons," I continued. "This is the first time I’m going to be officially introduced to them. I won’t be a rumor they talk about—I’ll be real, in front of them."
Zorathys studied me like I had just said something mildly entertaining rather than deeply consequential.
Then he made a face.
It wasn’t dramatic. Just faintly incredulous.
"Firefly," he said, voice low, "you could wear a pillowcase and you would still look better than every demon noble in that hall."
I blinked.
He continued as though this was an obvious and universally accepted truth.
"And besides, like you said—it’s a luncheon. We are going to eat. That is all. I don’t see a need for you to dress to kill."
I crossed my arms. "Of course you don’t. You don’t see the need for almost everything."
"I see the need to rest," he told me.
"And avoid work too."
"I don’t really avoid work. I just use my time wisely. It’s better I spend my days doing the things I love..."
"Sleeping..."
"You are saying it like it’s something bad."
"It isn’t?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No, of course not. Sleeping is work too, firefly. I’m helping the realm by occupying space."
What did I just hear?
"Zorathys..."
He shrugged, cutting me off. "See, firefly, honestly, you can’t see the work I put in..."
"...in being lazy?"
"That’s just what you call it, but to me it’s being productive. I think better when I sleep..."
"...for centuries."
"The longer the better," he told me.
I just gave him a look, his ruby eyes staring right back at me. I had no idea how the conversation even digressed, but at least I got some information from my husband-to-be. Apparently, to Zorathys, him being lazy was him doing work... the fuck?
"You know what," I said with a sigh. "Let’s circle back to where we were before."
"About you insisting I’m lazy when I’m just doing what others can’t do?" he asked me.
"No. The fact that you think I’m dressed to kill when we are only going to the luncheon to eat," I told him, but I didn’t give him the chance to speak before I continued.
"You speak like the nobles wouldn’t observe. This is the first time I’m meeting them in person. I need to be impressive. They will measure every word I speak, take in everything I do. I must be... I don’t know, appropriate?"
Zorathys yawned. I would have been offended if I didn’t know that Zorathys was always tired. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn’t even yawned in the few minutes we argued.
"Firefly," he told me, "if anyone dares to measure your words or speak ill of you, you can just kill them."
His shadows nodded along with his words, totally agreeing with him.
He spoke of death so easily. The only person I’ve ever killed is my former boss, Karen—and even then, I only killed her in my head.
"Zorathys, given how weak my magic is, I can’t really do any killing. You know that, right?" I asked him.
He paused, then he chuckled. "You are not weak, firefly."
"I never said I was. I said my magic was," I told him.
"That’s the same thing. And that’s a lie. You have me—you don’t need anyone else or any magic of yours," he told me. "I can do the killing for you. I’d delight in it too."
"Zorathys, you are not killing anybody," I told him.
"Not if they all respect you and dare not say a single thing," he said.
"Zorathys," I called in warning.
"Firefly..." he replied.
"You are not doing anything like that. No one is dying," I told him.
He avoided my gaze.
"Zorathys!"
He ignored me.
"If you do not reply to me, I’ll make sure you do work for even a thousand years."
He stared at me aghast. "Firefly, why would you threaten me with something like death?"
"It’s work."
"Same as death. It’s even spelled the same way," he told me.
They were not even spelled the same way, but okay... I wasn’t going to say anything.
"Promise me you wouldn’t kill anyone," I told him.
He watched me for another long second. Then he sighed loudly.
"Fine."
Even his shadows looked like they disagreed with that, but I didn’t care. No one was going to die on my watch.
"If you are so eager to follow your own ways," he said finally, voice smooth again, "then I suppose I will have to cooperate."
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"Cooperate how—"
Before I could finish the sentence—
The world shifted. I just blinked... that was all it took.
And I was no longer standing next to Rin and Vaelory.
I was standing right next to him. Close enough that the heat of him brushed against my arm. Close enough that if I inhaled too deeply, I would breathe him in.
I stiffened and the demon smiled.
"It is time," he said.
The shadows responded before I could.
They rose from beneath our feet, silent and seamless, curling upward like living silk.
They wrapped around us. This felt different from when he teleported Vaelory and me from Aelthryn. This was warm and comforting. Like the shadows were delighted to have me in their midst.
But it didn’t last long. Soon, the shadows parted and light crept in.
We were no longer in my chambers.
We were standing in the dining hall.
The ceiling arched high above us, carved from black stone veined faintly with molten gold that pulsed like sleeping embers beneath the surface. Chandeliers of suspended crystal floated midair, casting warm, steady light across a table long enough to seat a small army.
The table itself was carved obsidian, polished to a reflective sheen.
The hall was silent and empty.
Zorathys’ expression soured instantly.
"They are late," he said flatly.
I blinked.
"We are the first ones here," I pointed out gently.
"Yes."
"So... maybe we’re early?"
He glanced at me as though I had said something deeply illogical.
"Anyone who appears after I do is late," he stated.
"That is not how time works."
"That is law."
I stared at him.
He did not look like he was joking.
"You cannot just decide—"
"I am not deciding," he interrupted calmly. "It has always been so."
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
Sometimes it was simply not worth arguing with a demon king who believed chronology obeyed him.
The hall remained quiet.
My heartbeat, however, did not.
This was happening.
There was no rehearsal for this part.
No more fittings. No more fabric adjustments.
No more safe rooms.
I was meeting the rulers of the dukedoms in the demon realm.
I straightened subtly.
Zorathys noticed.
"Relax," he murmured right next to my ear.
That did nothing to help at all and instead my pulse increased.
I was about to say something when the massive doors at the far end of the hall creaked open.
The sound echoed.
Both of us turned.
As a woman stepped inside.
She moved with deliberate precision. And from how she moved, she exuded confidence.
Her heels struck the polished floor in measured rhythm.
She was... striking.
Her white hair cascaded down her back in silken waves, luminous under the chandelier glow. It fell nearly to her waist, smooth and impossibly sleek, with faint strands framing a face carved with delicate sharpness.
Her ears were similar to Aziren’s but more pronounced.
They were white fox ears. They rose elegantly from the crown of her head, pointed and tipped slightly upward, alert but poised. The fur was pristine, immaculate, the edges brushed faintly with a subtle red tint that mirrored the very tips.
She had nine tails. They fanned behind her in a graceful arc, each one full and voluminous, pure white from base to near the tip, where crimson stained the ends like deliberate brushstrokes of paint.
I was officially meeting a fox demon, and she was beautiful.
They swayed with her steps.
Her outfit was tailored as precisely as mine and it was almost similar.
White high-waisted trousers, fitted through the hips before falling in a clean, structured line. The fabric shimmered faintly—not glittering—but with a pearlescent sheen that caught the light subtly.
Over it, she wore a structured jacket cut sharply at the waist, the shoulders slightly exaggerated to enhance her posture. Fine red embroidery traced along the cuffs and collar in intricate patterns.
Beneath it, a fitted ivory silk blouse with a narrow collar and delicate gold fastenings.
Her heels were red.
Her lips matched the heels, and her eyes were red too, but they were not as beautiful as Zorathys’ eyes.
She approached us with a smile on her face and then bowed when she reached us.