Chapter 15: The Demon, The Debt, and My Dumb Father
We moved from the Grand Hall of the Sylvarindel Palace—me, my father, and Zorathys—and into the meeting hall.
The huge hall where my father normally had meetings with his vassals. A hall I had been restricted from entering because apparently, the discussions were "not a concern of mine."
I was sure the hall had seen wars, betrayals, the signing of treaties, and at least one ridiculous duel. But I was confident it had never seen anything quite like this.
There I was, sitting across a long oak table polished to perfection—and by perfection, I mean if you looked closely, the table could wink back at you. It was that smooth.
I sat glaring at my father, who was pretending to study the table like it contained the answers to the meaning of life. Zorathys sat at the head of the table like he owned the place—which, technically, he might, considering the debt—and was yawning so widely it looked like he was about to inhale a few souls.
I wonder... does he do that? I wouldn't lie, that's something I'd like to see if he could do it.
He looked sleepy and bored out of his mind.
"This is absurd," I said finally, crossing my arms. "There is no way I am marrying him."
My father nodded.
Just nodded. Like I'd said, Dinner's ready.
I blinked once. Twice. Then thrice.
"Did you just—did you just nod?" I hissed. "Don't just nod, Father! I said I'm not marrying him!"
He made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a sigh.
"Y... yes, my starlight. I heard you," he said to me.
"Your starlight?!" I asked incredulously. "Your starlight?! I just said I'm not marrying him and you don't have anything to say?!" I screeched, my voice carrying the disbelief I felt.
Zorathys, still half-reclined in his chair, lifted a lazy hand. "Could you bring your voice down a little, love? I can't sleep with all that screeching."
I turned toward him so fast I almost dislocated my neck. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said sweetly, resting my chin on my hand. "Did my screeching disturb your royal nap? Should I fetch you a lullaby or maybe a softer chair to drool on?"
He smiled at me sleepily, as if I'd just complimented him. "That would be lovely. This chair isn't really comfortable for a good sleep. I wonder how Glitterbelly was able to use it."
I inhaled through my nose and imagined punching him.
My father tried to shrink into his chair. It would have worked too, if he wasn't shaped like a man who'd eaten too many festival pastries in his youth.
"Listen," I said, redirecting my frustration productively. "If my father pays back whatever ridiculous debt he owes you, will you let me be? Like—pretend this whole cursed 'bride' thing never happened?"
Zorathys tilted his head, eyes gleaming like amusement itself had taken physical form. "Why," he said, "do you want to break up with me when we're so clearly in love?"
I growled. Actually growled. The sound surprised even me, but it only made him chuckle—the smug bastard.
He rubbed at his eyes, as if the entire conversation were too exhausting for his demonic sensibilities, then turned toward my father. "So," he said, voice low and casual, "are you willing to pay back your debt?"
My father jumped like he'd just realized Zorathys had been in the room the whole time. His eyes bulged; his mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. "Oh! You're—ah—talking to me, Your Royal Eminence?"
I buried my face in my hands. "No, Father, he's talking to the table. Of course he's talking to you!"
He ignored me—like he always did whenever life decisions were required—and started babbling. "We... uh... we've tried, you see, but the kingdom... the kingdom is... financially constrained at the moment."
Zorathys smiled at that, the corners of his mouth curling like sin itself was amused. "You see, my love," he drawled, "your father isn't going to pay the debt he owes."
"Thank you for that unnecessary confirmation," I muttered, glaring holes through both of them.
Then my father did something so stupid, it felt like the room temperature dropped ten degrees in preparation for my wrath.
He turned to Zorathys and said, "If I agree to the marriage, will you cancel the debt?"
I stared at him. My brain temporarily forgot how to form words.
Then, in one elegant movement of disbelief, I slammed my palms on the table and shouted, "Father, are you okay?"
He didn't even glance at me. "I'm merely discussing options," he said, in the same tone one might use when discussing his favorite snacks.
Zorathys gave a soft, dark chuckle. "And they say I'm the demon."
I blinked between the two of them. "You..." I pointed at my father. "You are selling me off."
"I am not selling you off," he said, rolling his eyes like I was being dramatic. "You said it yourself that you're in love with him. I'm just giving you both my blessing."
I think I blacked out for a second.
"I... what?" I croaked. "I am not in love with him! I was joking when I told you that, and it was all in a panic!"
He shrugged. "Well, yes, I know that now," he said, still somehow defensive. "But you dug the pit yourself, my starlight..."
Zorathys was watching this entire exchange like it was the most fascinating theater he'd seen in centuries. His chin rested on one hand, amusement sparkling in his eyes like a cat watching two mice slap each other.
I turned back to my father, voice gone chillingly calm—the kind of calm that precedes historical massacres. "What," I said slowly, "did you just say?"
My father blinked, either too stupid or too scared to recognize the murder in my tone. "I said you dug the pit yourself—"
That was it. That was the final straw. The candle before the explosion. The lightning before the thunderous Elyn loses all sense of restraint.
In a blur of motion that would've made our court guards proud, I was already halfway across the massive meeting table, hands outstretched, fully prepared to commit patricide.
I could see it—my fingers closing around his neck, his eyes bugging out, the gasps of the kingdom's people, and the gossips flying about...
Except I didn't get that far.
Because Zorathys moved faster than thought itself.
One moment I was lunging; the next, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, dragging me back against him before I could reach my father. My feet scrambled against the polished wood, my hands clawing the air like an angry cat trying to scratch divine justice into the universe.