Chapter 230: That Is Not How It’s Done In The Gambling Dens
Chapter 230: That Is Not How It’s Done In The Gambling Dens
Elyn’s POV
Morthen shook the parchments in his hands.
Zayrion frowned immediately.
"That’s not how they shake it in the gambling dens," he said.
I turned to him slowly. "This isn’t a gambling den."
Zayrion tilted his head, unbothered by this fact. "I know," he said. "But I was told that to get better results, one has to shake their hands or their cups dramatically." He held up both hands, demonstrating as he spoke. "One hand on top, the other on the bottom. Shake vigorously to the left, to the right, to the top, to the bottom, shake in the middle—and then you pick."
I stared at him.
"That is very specific," I said.
"It is," he agreed, adjusting his glasses. "I sometimes go to the dens with my parents."
Ah... that explains it. I may have forgotten that the fuck demons were the second richest in the demon realm—yes, that was on me.
Was it surprising that Zayrion went to the gambling dens with his parents? Not at all.
"That’s admirable," I said, and I meant it in the loosest possible sense of the word. "But let’s get something straight." I looked at him. "We are not at the dens. There is no need for all that elaborate shaking. This is a simple ballot. I’m picking from parchments, not rolling for coin." I paused. "I’m not doing this for money, Zayrion."
He tilted his head, considered this for a moment, and then nodded.
"That’s fair," he said.
Just like that. Completely reasonable. Entirely unbothered.
I turned back to Morthen, who had been standing patiently through all of this with the parchments in his hands and the expression of a demon who had learned, through long experience, that waiting was simply part of the job.
He shook them once more—nothing elaborate, nothing dramatic, just a simple, sensible shake—and then opened his palm toward me.
I looked at them.
I had five options in there, including my own, and I was going to be entirely honest with myself—I was hoping. I was genuinely, quietly hoping that fate would be kind to me for once and let me pick something manageable.
Catch was manageable.
Catch was simple. Outdoor. Straightforward. No impersonation required, no wardrobe access. It was simple.
I closed my eyes and then extended my hand to pick one of the parchments. Once I was done, I opened it and... oh, fate was on my side. It was catch.
Aziren made a delighted sound, his amber eyes lighting up as the little flames in his hair jumped with his excitement.
Velira looked at the parchment, disappointed.
"I would have liked to do something else," she said. Then she sighed and added, "But I will play catch. It seems interesting." She paused, then, because she could not help herself, added, "And besides, I want to get closer to you, Your Majesty."
I didn’t respond to that last part.
From beside me, Rin made a sound.
A delighted sound, which was shocking. Why was she sounding excited too?
"I’m interested too," she announced.
I turned to her, but her attention was on the parchment.
"Rin," I said. "You are not a child."
Her face fell immediately into a pout. "But—"
"You are not a child," I repeated.
She pointed at Zayrion. "He and I can exchange places. He can be me while I can be him for the game, especially since he likes being me so much," she said.
Zayrion adjusted his glasses.
"I do not like being you per se," he said with great dignity. "I simply felt compelled to be you in that moment." He paused. "And besides, Aziren thought it would be a good idea."
I turned to Aziren, who was smiling. Did this child do anything other than smile?
Anyway, it turned out he was the mastermind this time and not Zayrion... wow.
Aziren had been the one to suggest it, and I had looked at Zayrion this whole time like he was the mastermind, when really the little fireball standing in front of me with that innocent smile had planted the idea.
I stared at him for a moment, then shook my head and moved on because there was genuinely nothing else to do with that information.
Azerion leaned toward me then. "How do we play?" he asked.
"We’ll have to go to the gardens," I told him. "We need somewhere big for this. The office won’t do."
That was all I needed to say.
The reaction was immediate.
All four of them lit up at the same time—Aziren’s flames jumping, Velira’s wings fluttering, Zayrion’s tails swinging, Azerion already turning toward the door—and then they were running out of the office and into the corridor, their laughter trailing behind them, feet thundering down the hall in four completely different rhythms.
The office went quiet immediately after they were gone.
Vaelory sighed.
"The snacks will have to move to the gardens, it seems," she said.
"That would be better anyway," I said, "since the game is going to be played there."
She nodded.
I turned toward the door to follow the children when I heard a sound... something had fallen to the floor.
I was already moving before I had finished processing it.
I made it down the grand staircase, where the children had gathered, all four of them looking in the same direction with wide eyes and varying expressions of surprise.
I followed their gaze.
On the floor, surrounded by a small cloud of dust that was still settling, was a gargoyle.
It was on its side, wings folded at an awkward angle, expression frozen in shock.
I stared at it.
How did that even happen?
I turned to Morthen, who was observing the scene with his compound eyes wide behind his glasses. His antennae were very still.
"Morthen," I said.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Does this happen frequently?" I asked him.
He adjusted his glasses.
"It happens sometimes," he said carefully. "I think."
"...You think?" I asked him.
"...I think," he confirmed.
I exhaled through my nose.
Then I turned to Morthen.
"I need you to do something for me," I said.
He straightened slightly. His antennae lifted.
"Get me a map," I told him. "Of the palace." I paused. "And the demon realm too, if you can find one."
Morthen’s brows drew together slowly at that. "Pardon?"