Chapter 272: The Book That Almost Killed A Demon King
Chapter 272: The Book That Almost Killed A Demon King
Zorathys had not finished yawning.
He was midway through it — hand raised, eyes closed, entirely unbothered — when he paused.
Something in the air had changed.
His shadows stilled just as he did.
He lowered his hand, opened his eyes, and looked at Elyn.
She was glaring at him.
Now, Zorathys had been glared at many times. By enemies. By demons who wanted him dead. By Ignivar and Naviel specifically, on numerous occasions, for various reasons — most having to do with him working, though the glares hardly did anything to convince him to do so. He had also been glared at by the Queen numerous times, though he normally found it cute when she did.
But the point was, he was familiar with glares. He knew them like he knew his shadows.
But this one was different.
Her red hair seemed to be moving. And not from the wind — there was no wind. The hair just moved, lifting slightly at the ends like something alive that shared her mood. Her blue eyes had gone a shade he was fairly certain he had not seen before. They were cold and sharp.
He was also fairly certain he was seeing things because she was human, and humans did not do that. And also, Elyn was fully human — that he was sure of.
He had barely finished blinking when she threw something.
He moved fast — faster than the situation had suggested he needed to move — and the object sailed past his head and hit the wall behind him.
He turned slowly then and stared at the weapon, which was really just a book. Then he turned back to her.
"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, calmly.
He swallowed. That was not what he had been expecting, but he had to admit something about the fact that she had just told him she wanted to kill him — and calmly at that — made his heart beat pick up.
He liked it... a lot.
"Just because the pests aren’t visiting the palace," he said carefully, "you want to kill me?"
"It’s more than that," she said. "But you’re too stupid to know."
He opened his mouth.
"One," she said, and her voice was very even, which was somehow worse than if it hadn’t been, "I know you’re the reason the children are no longer coming to the palace."
He said nothing.
"But that’s not even the main issue," she continued. "The main issue is that you would rather make sure the children don’t come to the palace than apologize for disappearing for two weeks. And then you show up here every day smiling and suggesting picnics like everything is perfectly fine."
"It is perfectly fine," he said. "I didn’t die. I wasn’t injured. I’m standing right here. We’re speaking right now."
"Is that really enough?" she asked. "We can see each other, so that’s enough?"
"That’s what I said."
"You didn’t explain anything," she said. "And I was sick with worry trying to understand what was going on with you. For two weeks. And instead of an explanation, you did nothing and then showed up to lock the children in a cell."
Zorathys looked at her.
He was genuinely trying to follow this.
He had not died.
He had not been injured.
He had been in the palace the entire time — his shadows were there, which meant he was there, which meant she had known he was alive and present and not in any danger.
So why had she been worried?
And why was she angry at him?
He stared at her.
She stared back.
He ran through it again.
Two weeks. He had not seen her for two weeks. She had known he was alive because his shadows were present. And yet she had been worried. And now she was throwing books at him... books that somehow looked like weapons from afar.
He turned this over.
And over and over again.
"Why," he said finally, a frown on his face, "were you worried?"
She looked at him.
"I just told you," she said.
"You told me you were worried," he said. "You didn’t tell me why. I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t sick. I was in the palace." He looked at her with genuine confusion. "You knew I was there. So why were you worried?"
"Zorathys—"
"And why are you angry?" he continued. "We didn’t see each other for two weeks. That is normal. We don’t have to see each other all the time, after all." He shook his head slightly, his earrings moving with it. "But you’re angry at me like I did something. And I don’t understand what I did."
"You avoided me," she said.
"I was in the palace."
"You hid your door."
"The door does what it wants," he said, which was not entirely a lie.
"I was worried," she said again, quieter this time, "because something happened. Two weeks ago, something happened and you disappeared immediately after, and nobody would tell me why, and your door was gone, and—"
She stopped.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then something in her expression shifted.
The sharpness didn’t leave exactly. But it changed into something else. Something more tired than angry.
"You really don’t understand," she said.
It wasn’t a question.
It was just an observation. Quiet and slightly bewildered, like she had just arrived at a realization she hadn’t expected.
Zorathys looked at her.
He was very aware that he was missing something.
Something that was apparently obvious to her and completely invisible to him, and his shadows shifted around him, mirroring his movements as he spoke.
"No, I don’t."
Elyn had no idea which was worse — the fact that he did not understand why she was angry, or the fact that she had been angry at someone who didn’t understand why she was angry.
She released a tired exhale and then asked him calmly,
"Why did you react the way you did that day?"