Dragon King's Harem Chapter 475. Oh Dear

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 475. Oh Dear

Sela stepped forward without waiting for permission. “Sela doesn’t disappear that easily. Especially not when someone still owes her a drawing of a snow beast eating a mooncake.”

Kaelen’s mouth opened, a breath of laughter escaping him. “I didn’t forget! I just—” He hesitated, glancing at me again, then back to Sela. “Can I still draw it?”

Sela nodded solemnly. “Of course. But this time, make the snow beast extra fat. Sela is hungry.”

Kaelen laughed again. A small one. But it was real.

I stayed quiet. My feet moved toward the high table like they were on rails. When I sat, the chair didn’t groan—but it might as well have. The weight wasn’t just physical anymore. It never had been.

Maria sat after me, adjusting Kaelen’s cloak and brushing his hair from his eyes with a mother’s practiced hand.

“He was restless,” she said quietly, eyes not leaving her son. “But he didn’t cry. Not even once.”

“He’s stronger than most adults I’ve met,” I said, voice low.

Her smile was faint. “That he is.”

I looked at the table.

Warm food. Finally.

The silver trays steamed gently, their lids already removed by careful elven hands. I could see soup—actual soup—thick, golden, with herbs floating like little ships. There was meat, too. Real meat. Not the dried, half-frozen stuff from last night, but cuts still glistening with their juices. Roasted. Spiced. Gods, even the smell had weight to it. Rich. Comforting. Maybe a little desperate. But warm.

My hand drifted to the carved wood of the chair arm. Smooth, polished. Cold. Like everything else in this place—elegant, beautiful, and slightly dead.

I glanced at the long stretch of white crystal table in front of me. Even the damn plates looked like they were carved out of snowflakes. Dazzling. Fragile. Pretty in a way that made me feel like a bear in a greenhouse.

Everyone else looked the part. Diplomats in robes embroidered with ice patterns. Warriors with shimmering chainmail that caught the pale light like starlight. Advisors from other tribes, expressions carved from stone, lined up neatly like painted dolls.

And me? Sitting here in my dark coat, lined with old gold threads that felt heavier by the second, like the past stitched itself into the seams. The warmth from the food didn’t quite reach my chest.

Footsteps.

-Click! Click! Pause. Click!

Almeric.

I didn’t need to look to know it was him. The rhythm was exact. He always walked like he was counting the seconds he’d have to spend breathing the same air as everyone else.

He came around the table and sat beside me—his usual spot. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough to speak without raising his voice.

“Your Majesties,” he said. Just that. Formal. Flat.

I glanced at him sideways.

Dark robes. Tighter than usual. His collar was a little off. A wrinkle near the shoulder—unusual. And the bags under his eyes?

Oh yeah. He hadn’t slept.

Couldn’t blame him. Callum was here. Somewhere.

I reached for the soup, if only to buy time before asking anything. The spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as I stirred it. Smelled like sage. Maybe a hint of bone broth. Comfort food with trauma undertones. Just how I liked it.

“Did you sleep at all?” I muttered under my breath, low enough that no one but Al would hear.

He didn’t answer. Not directly. He just exhaled. Slow. Sharp. The kind of sigh that wanted to kill someone.

Fair enough.

“Looks better than last night,” I said, changing the subject, dipping the spoon in. “The food.”

Al didn’t respond to that either. But his eyes flicked toward the entrance.

And then I felt it too.

The temperature dropped.

Not literally. The heat was the same. But the air changed. Like something old and bitter had walked into the room wearing perfume.

Callum.

And his daughter.

I didn’t look immediately. I kept sipping the soup, pretending not to notice the ripple that went through the hall. Heads turned. A few whispers. The subtle shift of bodies adjusting in their seats—not out of respect, but readiness. Like if someone flipped the table, the room was already halfway to civil war.

I finally lifted my gaze.

Callum was dressed to impress, of course. Layers of frost-blue silk with a black fur collar draped over his shoulders like the pelt of a defeated rival. His daughter trailed behind him like a shadow in training. She didn’t look at anyone directly, but you could tell she was watching everything.

Callum didn’t nod. He just walked. His footsteps soft, calculated, predatory.

Then his eyes met Al’s.

I could’ve sworn the soup in my mouth chilled.

The look they gave each other wasn’t just tension. It was history. The kind that didn’t get written in books because it would set them on fire.

Al didn’t blink.

Callum didn’t either.

One of them was going to snap a fork in half today. I could already feel it.

Maria stood politely, regal as always. She smiled like nothing was wrong.

“Your Majesty Callum,” she greeted. “And Lady Thiphania. Thank you for joining us.”

Callum bowed faintly. “It is, of course, my duty to attend.”

Ah. There it was. The first subtle jab of the morning. Sharp, polite, and soaked in venom.

Maria didn’t flinch. “We are grateful.”

“Your Majesty,” Thiphania said, addressing Maria. Not me. Not Al. Just Maria. Smart kid. Safer that way.

Jyne, sitting across from me, cringed. It was in the subtle curl of her lip. She picked up her goblet too fast, pretending she hadn’t just imagined this whole breakfast devolving into a courtroom bloodbath.

Sela, sitting next to Kaelen, leaned in closer to the kid, whispering something about soup monsters and whether mooncakes float. Kaelen giggled, his little spoon wobbling dangerously in his hand. His smile was too precious for this political cesspool.

I sighed and sipped my drink. It tasted faintly of citrus and regret.

“Oh dear,” I muttered, huffing a long breath.

Al’s lips twitched. Barely. Like he wanted to laugh. Or scream.

Callum sat directly across from him.