Chapter 13: The Demon King Is Real (And Also My Imaginary Lover)
My father was still on his knees.
There were a million things I could've said about that sentence, but most of them involved shoelaces, dignity, and a nice long nap. Instead, I tore my eyes away from the sight of His Majesty prostrating in the center of the hall and focused on the man lounging on the throne like someone who had misplaced his umbrella and decided the royal seat was an excellent place to wait.
And because curiosity has always been my curse, I turned to my father and called out to him in a whisper that somehow echoed through the silent hall.
"Psst." I called out.
He ignored me.
"Psst," I called again.
My father continued to ignore me. He was right next to me, pretending like he didn't hear me.
I moved closer and pinched him.
"Owie!" he exclaimed, turning to me with a glare.
"What was that for?" he hissed under his breath.
"You were ignoring me," I said through gritted teeth, my eyes wide like I was about to strangle him.
He cast a nervous glance at the man on the throne before turning back to me.
"What do you want?"
"Who is that man sitting in your seat, and why are you shaking like someone stole your huge stomach?" I asked.
He stared at me with wide eyes. "What?" he asked, swallowing hard.
I rolled my eyes and pointed at the man. "Who is that?"
My father quickly covered my hand with his and turned sharply toward me. "Don't refer to him as that," he whispered.
"Then tell me who he is."
"Aren't you supposed to know?" he asked.
"How the hell am I supposed to know who he is? He looks exactly like the man I imagined."
My father's eyes widened even more. "So you mean to tell me you were lying when you described him perfectly?"
I waved him off. "I wasn't lying. I was just projecting my imagination."
"That is lying."
"Tomato, tomahto," I said. "Now tell me who the man is."
He blinked as if his eyelids had been glued together, then carefully peeled them open. He swallowed and shifted nervously.
"That," he said slowly, "is Zorathys Vaelkyrion."
"Zora—what?" I asked, because my brain had short-circuited somewhere between the countless suitors and potential husbands. "Zorathys Vael… what did you call him?"
"Zorathys Vaelkyrion," he repeated, each syllable extracted like a confession. "The Demon King."
My first reaction was an anatomically unreasonable laugh that turned into a cough. "You mean… the one I read about in a book? The one whose name I used when I was lying to you? That one?"
"Yes."
I turned to the man, then back to my father, then to the man again. Then I laughed.
"Nah, you're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" my father asked.
I squinted at the man on the throne. He didn't look like a demon king. He just looked like a gorgeous man who was wildly out of place in this overdressed hall.
"He looks exactly like the man from my imagination. Are you sure he's real?" I asked.
"Do you want to touch me to see if I'm real?" Zorathys asked calmly.
Before I could respond, my father squealed, "No, Your Eminence! She doesn't need to!"
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I decided to be a good daughter—just for now.
"Um… Your Eminence, pardon me for asking, but…" My father swallowed nervously. "Um… why are you here?"
Zorathys gave him a bored look. "You know exactly why I'm here."
"Well…" My father rubbed his hands over his stomach. "You see… we… the…"
"Say what you want to say," Zorathys told him calmly.
"Yes," my father said with a nervous nod. "Well… the thing is, you weren't supposed to be at the ball."
Zorathys nodded. "True, I didn't get any invitation. But I was in the castle anyway, and you were avoiding me for… obvious reasons."
"Your Royal Eminence…"
"You don't respect me that much, Glitterbelly. You can stop with the fake reverence—or whatever you think you're doing."
My father nodded meekly while I stared, unable to believe what I was seeing. My father looked about two minutes away from diving into a hole.
"Yes, you see… you weren't supposed to be here," he muttered.
"We've already established that," Zorathys replied.
"So… do you think we could continue our discussion somewhere else?" my father asked, voice trembling.
Zorathys chuckled—and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the way he sounded when he laughed.
"No."
My father looked stunned. "What?"
"No," Zorathys repeated. "I've been in this castle for weeks now, and you've refused to meet with me to discuss how exactly you plan to pay the debt you owe. You forget it was with my support that you defeated your opposition and took the throne. With my money and influence, you established this awful, gaudy kingdom. Every time you're on the verge of bankruptcy, you run to us—but when it's time to pay, you disappear."
"That's not—"
Zorathys yawned loudly. "Well, that's beside the point. I'm here for something else—and that's to take my bride."
"Bride?" my father repeated with a frown.
"Yes," Zorathys said with a blinding smile.
I had to control my racing heart and convince it we were not going to fall for any man. That wasn't the plan, after all.
"Your daughter and I are in love," Zorathys continued smoothly. "So I came for her."
My father turned to me, then back to Zorathys. Then me again. Then back to him. He did this about three more times before clearing his throat.
"Um… well, you see… you can't marry my daughter," he stammered. "She… she's into girls."
The attendants gasped loudly, and I gasped too—in shock. Then I realized my father was trying to help me.
But really—did he think that lie was going to work on a demon king?