Chapter 294: Energy, Excuses, and the Dumpster Full of Shadows
Chapter 294: Energy, Excuses, and the Dumpster Full of Shadows
Elyn’s POV
I clapped my hands.
The sound cut through the room, and everyone froze.
"I’m tired," I announced.
They blinked at me.
"Honestly," I continued, gesturing at the piles of clothes that had accumulated around the room — dresses and suit jumps and trousers and blouses scattered across cushions and racks and even the floor, "why are you only focused on me? The outing was for all of us, but you’ve been making only me dress up."
Velira opened her mouth to argue, but I held up a hand.
"I want to see you all try new clothes too."
I wanted a show too, especially one Zorathys would put on.
The children exchanged glances.
Azerion looked down at his own outfit and then back at me with an expression that suggested I had just asked him to swim through lava.
Zorathys nodded from his cushions, Aziren still perched on his lap.
"It’s true," he said, his voice carrying that lazy drawl. "Only my Firefly has been putting on a show. That’s quite disrespectful, actually." He tilted his head, his ruby eyes moving across the children’s faces. "You all should put on a show for her."
I nodded at first, pleased that he was agreeing with me.
Then I realized something.
From the way Zorathys spoke — the way he said "you" with such clear separation — he was removing himself from the conversation entirely. Like he was not part of the group that should be putting on a show for me.
"Hold on," I said, turning to him.
He blinked at me lazily.
"I’m not just talking about the children," I told him.
Zorathys tilted his head, his earrings swaying with the movement.
"But it’s the children you put on a show for," he said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
"No," I said slowly, "I didn’t just put on a show for the children. I put on a show for you too."
He frowned.
"How?"
"You were right there," I said, gesturing at his cushions. "You watched every single outfit. You even picked out clothes for me. Your shadows brought me dresses. You were actively participating."
Zorathys nodded slowly, considering this.
"Yes," he said. "But given that we are married, you did not put on a show for me."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He yawned — a long, dramatic yawn that he didn’t even bother to cover — and then rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.
"You basically gave me energy," he explained, his voice muffled by the hand still pressed against his eye. "Energy to witness your beauty. And now that you’re done, the energy is gone."
I gazed up at the ceiling.
Somewhere up there, if there was any supernatural presence listening, I needed strength. Patience. The willpower not to strangle the demon king in front of seven children and a group of fox demons.
"If I put on a show for everyone," I said, lowering my gaze back to him, "and you were there, then I put on a show for you."
He shook his head.
"No."
"No?"
"No," he repeated. "You only put on a show for the others. Not for me."
"That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense," he said. "You simply refuse to understand."
His shadows rose up around him as he spoke, curling into shapes. They moved like they were trying to demonstrate something, to illustrate the argument he was making without quite saying it outright.
I watched as the shadows took form.
One shaped itself into a small figure — a child, I realized, with something that looked like wings pressed against its back.
Velira.
Another shadow formed a snake.
Azerion, obviously, and he looked annoyed, but he said nothing.
Another took the shape of a child with glasses and a card in its hand.
Zayrion.
Another with light blue hair that rippled like water.
Retheris and Thalira together.
Another with broad shoulders and ears that pointed slightly.
Brixton.
Another with flames dancing around its head.
Aziren.
The shadows had created perfect little copies of all the children, their forms dark but unmistakable.
Then another shadow formed — this one larger, seated on what looked like a pile of cushions.
Zorathys.
I watched as the shadow version of him sat there, watching the shadow versions of the children watch the shadow version of me.
Then the shadow of Zorathys moved.
It stood up from its cushions, walked to the corner of the room — the farthest corner, the one behind the screen painted with foxes chasing moons — and stood there with its arms crossed.
And then the shadows of the children, the shadows of the fox demons who had been taking notes — all of them were wrapped in tendrils of darkness and thrown.
Into what looked like... a dumpster?
A shadow dumpster.
I didn’t even say anything.
I just watched as the shadow children and shadow fox demons tumbled into the shadow dumpster, their forms crumpling together in a heap of confused, flailing darkness.
The shadow dumpster closed its lid.
The shadow of Zorathys remained in the corner, alone, watching.
The demonstration ended.
The shadows settled back into their usual forms — dark puddles around Zorathys.
Zorathys turned to me, his ruby eyes patient.
"That demonstration," he said, gesturing vaguely at the space where the shadow dumpster had been, "is like that because I am different."
I stared at him.
"When it comes to you," he continued, "I have a higher position than the other demons here. Hence, I did not witness a show." He paused, letting that land. "I witnessed a necessity. One that has to do with the beauty of my wife and me recovering my energy."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again, but nothing came out.
What was I supposed to say to that? What could anyone possibly say to that?
And the fact that he sat there completely at ease, his expression calm. He genuinely believed that everything he had just said and demonstrated made perfect sense.
Honestly...
I know I’ve said how much I liked Zorathys but um...
How does one kill their future husband, especially when he was the demon king who was obviously more powerful?