Chapter 351: The Meal, The Chaos, and The Question Zorathys Was Not Expecting

Elyn’s POV

I had said Zorathys was hiding something. And not to be boastful and say I knew from the beginning, but I did know from the beginning.

The food was good — really good — and the children chatted and made a mess as they ate. The table was covered in crumbs, spilled sauces, and at least three overturned glasses that no one had bothered to clean up.

Azerion had taken on the task of feeding Veylthar.

He carefully held up a piece of meat to the shadow golem’s face, his expression so serious that I almost laughed. Veylthar opened his mouth — a dark void of swirling shadows — and accepted the offering.

"You like it?" Azerion asked eagerly.

Veylthar nodded. "It is... acceptable."

Azerion beamed.

Velira, apparently not wanting to be left out, picked up another piece of meat and held it up toward Veylthar.

"Here, try this one."

Azerion’s head snapped toward her.

"What are you doing?"

"Feeding him," she said innocently.

"I was feeding him."

"So?"

"So I’m feeding him, which means you can’t feed him. That’s obvious, isn’t it?"

"And who made that a rule?" she asked. "Who decided that once you’re feeding him I can’t?"

"Me."

"I object," she said.

Azerion hissed immediately.

And Velira hissed back.

It sounded nothing like Azerion’s hiss. Hers sounded like she was experiencing something deeply uncomfortable in her stomach and had decided to express it vocally.

"Just because you’re a Syrenthis demon doesn’t mean I can’t hiss too," she said, wings flaring. "Or take you down."

Azerion’s eyes narrowed into slits. The blue jewel on his forehead glowed faintly. He looked like he was approximately three seconds from settling this in a way that would involve his other form.

Before either of them could escalate further, velaryx miasma began filling the establishment.

I recognized it immediately.

It curled through the air, thick and heavy, and I felt the familiar warmth of it settling around us. The children paused mid-argument. Vaelory froze. Even Rin’s void-black eyes widened slightly.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

Zorathys had barely moved.

He gave the children a look — one of those lazy, dangerous looks that somehow carried more weight than any shouted threat ever could.

"I’m not above making you pests disappear if you wreck havoc," he said calmly. "And anyone who makes me work more than I’m supposed to will never see their parents again."

His gaze settled directly on Azerion.

"Or the Queen."

Azerion’s eyes widened.

"You wouldn’t," he said, with a note of genuine uncertainty.

"I would."

"You couldn’t."

"I could," Zorathys said, with a smile.

Azerion immediately settled back in his seat.

"I’m no longer eating," he announced.

Nobody believed him. Nobody even looked at him.

Velira, meanwhile, had grown stars in her eyes.

Literal stars.

I stared at her.

She was looking at Zorathys with an expression that could only be described as pure adoration. Her wings fluttered slightly and her hands were clasped together like she was witnessing something miraculous.

"He threatened to make us disappear," she breathed. "And he said it so casually. And he looked so handsome while doing it."

I shook my head and focused on my food.

There was genuinely no point trying to understand Velira’s logic.

Aziren, meanwhile, was eating with his hands.

Vaelory had placed a full set of cutlery in front of him — a fork, a knife, even a spoon — but he had completely ignored them in favor of picking up his food directly. She cut the food into smaller pieces for him and he thanked her warmly before going straight back to his hands.

Vaelory tried to correct him again.

Zayrion shook his head at her.

"That’s how we eat," he told her.

Vaelory looked at his hands, which were holding cutlery. Then she looked back at Zayrion, who was pretending not to notice her looking. Then she looked at Aziren, who was elbow-deep in a piece of bread.

She said nothing.

The doubt on her face said everything.

Across the table, Retheris had turned to her with his most charming smile.

"VV," he said, "would you like me to feed you?"

Vaelory looked at him.

"No."

"It would be romantic."

"It would be messy."

"I can be very neat when I want to be."

"Can you?"

"Yes."

"I don’t believe you."

Retheris looked wounded.

"You wound me."

"I’m not trying to."

"Then why are you rejecting me?"

"Because I’m not interested."

Retheris placed a hand over his heart.

"Is it because I look like a child?" he asked.

"You are a child," Vaelory told him.

"According to Zayrion, in human terms I’d already be an old man, deserving of your love," he told her.

Vaelory stared at him.

Zayrion adjusted his glasses and looked elsewhere.

Thalira, meanwhile, was arguing with Brixton.

"You took food from my plate," he said.

"I didn’t take it."

"Yes, you did."

"I borrowed it."

"You can’t borrow food."

"Yes, you can."

"How?"

"You give it back."

He stared at her, unimpressed.

"You can’t give food back after you’ve eaten it."

"You can."

"How?"

She paused, genuinely considering his words. "Well. You don’t. But you can say you will."

He stared at her for another moment.

Then he took food from her plate.

"Brixton," she said.

"I borrowed it," he said.

I focused on my food.

It was delicious. Genuinely, remarkably delicious, which was the kind of thing that happened when you travelled through the demon realm with a demon king who apparently had opinions about where to eat.

But I noticed something.

Zorathys hadn’t eaten anything.

He had taken a small taste from the fish — barely enough to count as a bite — and then pushed the plate away.

Was that surprising?

Not particularly.

I leaned forward and spoke softly.

"Zor?"

His eyes moved to me immediately. Something in them shifted just slightly.

I smiled at him, mind you it was wide and warm because I’m good like that and don’t have any hidden intention.

"Where is Dracolthar?"