Chapter 357: The Snake Has Her for the Night (This Is Unacceptable)

Zorathys could not believe what had just happened.

Firefly — his Firefly — had ignored him and given all her attention to the snake demon.

The snake demon that claimed it wasn’t a snake but a syrenthis demon…which it was by the way, it just had the form of a snake.

Zorathys paused.

Surely that couldn’t be right. Surely his Firefly wouldn’t leave him standing there to attend to a snake demon that obviously wanted her for himself.

But the snake demon had rested comfortably on her shoulder and given Zorathys a smug look as Elyn carried him away, leaving Zorathys standing alone with Dracolthar.

He had kissed Firefly not too long ago.

A kiss he had enjoyed — though there was no doubt he would enjoy it, because for some odd reason the thought of kissing her had stayed with him for a while. Longer than was reasonable, probably, but then reasonability had never been something he particularly concerned himself with.

And there was also the fact that he had heard her at the law and order station giving the water demon, Aquaria a lesson on sex which he must admit was a very curious and very interesting topic that he had listened on for longer than firefly knew…not that he was going to admit that to her.

He had thought, quite reasonably and he hardly did reasonable, logically even that perhaps after everything that had happened today, he would finally have his alone time with her. Their moment. Where he could kiss her again and enjoy the warmth of it and move his hands through her hair and bring her closer and just — exist in the same space without anyone else requiring anything from either of them, mostly her.

That was what was supposed to happen.

Instead, the snake demon had cried.

And Firefly had picked him up.

And now he was standing here.

With Dracolthar…alone. And Dracolthar was not a demon nor the demon he wanted to be alone with. For Dracolthar even annoyed him.

He wondered, not for the first time, whether it would be so terrible if he killed Azerion. The demon clearly wanted the Queen. That alone was reason enough. He had a list of other reasons which led to the same conclusion of the snake demon wanting the Queen for herself that he could use if the first was not enough.

But then Firefly would be sad.

And possibly extremely angry.

And he would not get to kiss her again.

He could not explain — and he had tried, in the quiet of his own mind, with more effort than he gave most things — why the idea of Firefly being extremely angry felt different from the idea of her being moderately annoyed. He knew the difference. He felt the difference. She could be fiery and annoyed and throw books at him and he would find all of it acceptable and even, if he was being completely honest with himself, enjoyable.

But sad and extremely angry was different.

If she ever became truly sad because of him, he was fairly certain he would not survive it well. Not in any way that mattered.

So. Azerion would live.

For now.

The snake had her for the night. Fine. He could accept that. Firefly had agreed that tomorrow — just the two of them, no pests, no Dracolthar, no borrowed promises and diverted attention — they would explore the territories together.

The snake could have her for the night.

He would have her for tomorrow.

And then forever after that, which was a thought he did not examine too closely because examining it too closely would require him to sit with it, and sitting with things was work, and he had already done more work today than he had done in several decades.

“Um,” Dracolthar said.

Zorathys didn’t look at him.

His shadows rose and wrapped around him and then he was in his room.

His clothes were already gone, replaced with his pyjamas before he had even fully arrived.

He adjusted the cap on his head.

Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

His wings spread and the shadows extended his body pillow toward him immediately.

Zorathys took it from them then yawned again as he hugged it tight to himself, sleeping airborne.

—

And while the demon king slept comfortably in the air, there was one demon that everyone had apparently forgotten.

Dracolthar blinked.

He stood in the corridor exactly where Zorathys had been standing before the shadows took him, and he registered, slowly and then all at once, that he had been left behind.

Again.

He looked left.

He looked right.

He looked at the space where Zorathys had been, which was just corridor now, empty and unhelpfully silent.

He had slept in the King’s bedroom the previous night. That was where he had been, and it had been fine — well, it had been terrifying, but he had survived it, which was more than could be said for other encounters with the King.

The bedroom existed somewhere in the palace, that much was true but he simply had no idea how to find it.

And even if he did find it, there was the separate and more pressing question of how to enter it without being killed on the spot by the king.

He shuddered.

He remembered the last time Zorathys had killed him.

And the time after that.

And the time after that.

The King had a habit of killing him and bringing him back and killing him again until he was satisfied, and the memory of it lived in Dracolthar’s body in a way that didn’t require his mind’s participation.

He shuddered again.

The roof, he decided, was preferable.

The gargoyles were up there. And unlike the King who would kill him for trespassing, the gargoyles wouldn’t. He was safe with them for the night.

He yawned then made his way to the roof.