Dragon King's Harem Chapter 472. Frostbite

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 472. Frostbite

She nodded again in gratitude.

Callum broke the silence again, because of course he did.

“So,” he said, biting into his cheese with exaggerated elegance, “any other surprise guests going to show up before midnight?”

Al shot him a look. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Callum gave a lazy shrug, his goblet rolling slightly between his fingers. “Who knows? A lot of people still hold a grudge.”

That earned a small snort from Al, but nothing more. His eyes narrowed, as if silently debating whether it was worth the effort to toss another insult.

Then Maria spoke, her voice steady but low, like a commander too tired for theatrics. “My soldiers and loyalists are still fighting now. Pockets of resistance. Remnants of Cedric’s faction that refuse to yield.”

She adjusted the cloak draped over her shoulders, the motion careful not to wake Kaelen as he curled closer into her.

“But I guess none of it will happen tonight,” she added. “I wish it wouldn’t.”

I turned my head toward her. “And the other delegations?”

“They’ve been escorted away,” she said simply. “To safety. My soldiers handled it. No accidents. No delays.”

Good. That was something, at least.

I stared into the firelight, letting it gnaw away at the chill still crawling along the inside of my bones. The logs crackled, sparks snapping like miniature stars before vanishing into the night. But the warmth barely registered. I felt it on my skin, sure—but not where I needed it. Not where the cold truly lived.

The food sat heavy in my hand. It smelled faintly of iron and nuts. Meant to keep soldiers upright, not satisfied.

I hadn’t taken a bite.

I wasn’t hungry.

The taste of battle still coated my mouth. Burnt air, blood, the ash of what I’d done and what I hadn’t. Nothing else would cut through that yet.

Maria didn’t speak again.

She didn’t need to.

She was holding everything she’d fought for—the last thread left from a kingdom gutted by betrayal. And it slept against her, trusting, unaware. His tiny hand clutched a bit of her tunic in his sleep.

Thiphania glanced at me once, studying the way I hadn’t moved since I refused the wine. She said nothing either.

Eventually, Callum leaned back with a stretch and a sigh. “Well. This was charming. Gritty bread, political tension, unresolved trauma. My favorite kind of night.”

I looked at him over my shoulder, half an eyebrow raised. “You forgot the snow. And the lingering scent of blood.”

“Ah, yes,” he added with a theatrical snap of his fingers. “And frostbite. Delicious ambiance.”

I snorted softly, the sound dry. “Don’t tempt me to throw you into the courtyard. You can taste the ambiance firsthand.”

Callum grinned, utterly unbothered. “You wound me, Dragon King. I’m just trying to savor the rare bonding time we have—me, you, Almeric, your lovely wives, my daughter, trauma, and stale cheese. Very exclusive company.”

“Ah, yes. The garnish on this elegant mess.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, smirking. “Still, could be worse.”

“Could it?”

He nodded. “We could be sober and optimistic. That’s a truly dangerous mix.”

I shook my head and exhaled, letting the sound blend into the stillness. Firelight danced across the stone walls, flickering shadows that couldn’t quite erase the fatigue etched into our limbs. The soldiers nearby had gone quiet. Some chewed their rations in silence, others just stared into the flames like it held answers they weren’t ready to speak aloud.

Maria looked up from her place by the fire, her voice quiet but firm. “Once we get the signal, you all can return to your rooms. Get some rest.”

I let the silence stretch for a second, then muttered, “Here or there, it’s all the same to me.”

Callum smirked. “You don’t like the bed, Dragon King?”

…

I didn’t answer right away. The way he said it—so casual, so amused—grated a little. Not because it was mocking. Just because it hit too close.

“No,” I said finally. “I understand it’s a standard bed. Luxurious, even. But I’m not a fan of ice.”

Maria tilted her head slightly. Didn’t say anything at first.

Then, softly, like someone testing the depth of a frozen lake, she asked, “Should I order to change it?”

I blinked at her. “No. That’s unnecessary. It’s just a bed. You’ve got more important things to worry about.”

And she did. We all did. Beds were for people who could pretend the world stopped spinning when they closed their eyes. I wasn’t there yet.

Neither was she.

A distant hum echoed through the corridor. Subtle, rhythmic—not mechanical, not natural. Familiar.

Maria straightened slightly, her eyes narrowing toward the window slits. The flicker of a blue lantern outside confirmed it.

“That’s the sign,” she said. “Safe enough. You should all head back. Once you’re finished eating.”

She rose with quiet dignity, Kaelen still nestled asleep in her arms. She didn’t look at me this time. Just nodded once and turned, the firelight casting long shadows behind her as she moved toward the upper corridor.

I watched her go, eyes lingering longer than I meant to.

Callum leaned toward me and whispered with exaggerated care, “You’ve been staring at that fire too long. Planning another conquest, or just regretting the last one?”

I didn’t turn my head. “Neither. Just thinking how peaceful it would be if you lost your voice for a week.”

He chuckled, low and slow. “Fair. But then who would offer you perspective?”

I glanced sideways. “I already have too many advisors. Some of them even useful.”

Almeric scoffed from the other side. “Useful? He’s trying to get in your head like he always does.”

Callum’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, come now, Almeric. You wound me. I only offer ideas. The king’s mind is his own.”

“Yeah, well,” Al said, folding his arms, “keep offering ideas and I’ll offer my sword. One of them might stick.”

Thiphania finally lifted her head, calm and unreadable. “So much hostility. You’d think you were born to be enemies.”

“I wasn’t born,” Al replied, his tone flat. “I was raised. On caution and scars. By you.”