Chapter 87: Chapter 87: THE DRUNK VISITOR

AZRAEL

From the moment I returned from a stressful journey, I have remained hounded by my own Beta, forced to do the work that I’ve been putting aside for months all in one night.

Sometimes I wonder who is actually in charge between him and I.

I’m already bored beyond my mind with stacks left that haven’t been touched yet and no signs of being done, so I put it all aside, deciding once more that it will continue to go unattended until he picks it up himself.

It’s what I pay him to do after all.

I fall back into my seat with a deep long sigh, sinking into the silence around me. I hate the stillness, the quiet dull air hovering about because it reminds me how much time has passed.

How much of it continues to pass around me. It engulfs me in thoughts that draw me deeper into the silent madness that continues to creep into me from the darkest parts of my mind.

It’s why I chase thrills to fill in the gaps and keep me entertained, why I feast on chaos even when it’s not needed—because I can only thrive amidst destruction, because it is only then when my mind and thoughts are calm again.

The ticking of the clock grows louder, creeping closer and closer. I close my eyes to drown them out, but I’m their prisoner for all of eternity.

I feel myself sinking deeper until a knock on my office door reels me out of it again. I sit upright as if woken from a nightmare, breathing hard for a moment, present again.

Silently grateful for whoever it is on the other side.

I make a mental note not to kill them if whatever they have for me is going to be a nuisance—or at least give them the benefit of the doubt—as I move to open the door.

Instead of some random servant, she stands in front of me like a gift wrapped in a thin-strapped pink top, matching teddy bear trousers, and bare feet.

Her long wavy auburn hair in a mess, but not the bad kind.

I freeze up, surprised and then confused, knowing she’s never sought me out on her own before. Not the person she knows as a devil that might kill her at any moment.

Yet she’s here and glaring at me for some reason.

“Valoria, what are you doing here?”

Rather than offering up an explanation, her peeved eyes reduce into slits, peering at me deeply, before she walks right in.

Without an invitation or asking for one, she slides through the small space between my body and the door frame, not minding the physical contact made on the way.

Her shoulder bumps against my arm and she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t apologize, doesn’t even seem to notice.

I shut the door once she’s in, watching her with growing bewilderment.

She takes a few steps forward and then stops abruptly, swaying slightly like a leaf unsure which way the wind wants it to go.

Her head turns slowly, scanning my office as if she’s never seen it before, though she has.

Then she whips back around to face me, nearly losing her footing, and jabs a finger in my direction.

“You,” she accuses, like I’ve committed an unforgivable crime.

I raise a brow. “Me?”

“Yes. You.” She narrows her eyes further, her finger still pointed and wobbling slightly. “Your Majesty, I came to see you,” she announces in slurred speech, her dramatic tone completely undercut by a small hiccup at the end.

“Azrael,” I correct her for the umpteenth time.

The formal title has never soothed her tongue, not since the first time she called me, even when dripping with fear.

Since then, I’ve let only her call me by name.

She huffs at my correction like I’ve personally insulted her, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout that looks more suited to a child denied dessert than a grown woman.

“Were you working on something, Your Majesty?”

She says my title with pointed emphasis now, petty and deliberate, as if to spite me.

I ignore it, instead watching as she makes her way toward my desk with a wandering gait, bumping her hip against the armrest of a chair on the way and muttering something incoherent at it like it offended her.

I remain by the door, arms folded, watching this strange creature that has replaced the cautious, sharp-tongued woman I’ve come to know.

She reaches my table and begins going through the documents one after the other, boldly and without caution.

Her fingers are clumsy, knocking over a pen holder that she doesn’t bother to fix. Each paper she looks at is examined with exaggerated focus, squinting like the words are swimming, before it’s tossed over her shoulders forming a mess on the floor.

One lands on a candle. She doesn’t notice. I flick my wrist and the flame snuffs out before it catches.

Something that Eros will deal with later.

“Yes… boring official work I have to do every once in a while,” I respond, watching her have her fun without interrupting.

She hums in response, barely listening, now distracted by a paperweight she’s lifted to eye level and is turning around in her hands like it’s a rare artifact.

She frowns at it, offended by its existence for reasons I cannot fathom, and sets it down facing the other direction as if that’ll teach it a lesson.

I wait against the door until she’s tired of it and meets my eyes again, almost staggering with every slight movement she makes.

She sets her hands on her hips, looking at me expectantly like I’m supposed to know what she wants.

I don’t.

She hiccups, blinking one eye after the other—slow, lazy blinks that don’t quite sync.

“It must be hard being a powerful ruler.”

“Sometimes.”

“You have so much going on for you that you don’t have time for anything else.” She says it accusingly, like this is somehow my fault, though I still have no idea what this is.

“Are you drunk?” I finally piece the signs I’ve noticed since she walked in together.

The sudden visit and burst of boldness, the messy clumsiness and the glaring, followed by the faint smell of alcohol wafting in the air since she walked in.

I’m 99.9% sure that Valoria Wilderose is intoxicated.

“Why are you ignoring me?” she blurts out all of a sudden, fuming and shooting daggers my way with her eyes like I’ve done something utterly revolting to her.

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