Dragon King's Harem Chapter 478. Paranoia’s Just Bad Digestion

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 478. Paranoia’s Just Bad Digestion

Maria breathed. Just once. Soft, controlled.

Al shifted beside me, like a shadow stretching, his energy taut and simmering just beneath the surface.

“You know…” Jyne said suddenly, crossing her legs under the table and resting her elbow on the armrest. “It’s fascinating how some people always assume help means takeover. Maybe it says more about them than the person doing the helping.”

Callum gave her a brief, practiced glance. “Some of us have learned to be cautious.”

“Caution’s healthy,” she replied. “Paranoia’s just bad digestion.”

I nearly choked on my meat.

Sela leaned in. “What if it’s both?”

Kaelen piped up without missing a beat. “My tummy hurts when I eat too fast.”

Maria exhaled a single breath—half chuckle, half sigh.

“You see?” Jyne gestured at Kaelen. “Wisdom.”

The moment cracked slightly. Not enough to break. But enough for the tension to lose its grip on our throats.

Maria finally spoke again, her voice laced with steel and snowfall.

“I don’t need to marry to prove I can rule,” she said. “And I don’t need anyone’s sword hanging over my head to keep this throne. I have advisors. I have allies. I have blood that survived Cedric’s purge. I will rebuild.”

Callum folded his hands. “Let’s hope the rebuild happens quickly. The northern borders are still… fragile.”

“If anyone pushes north, they’ll meet a very unstable dragon king on the wrong week,” I said plainly.

Kaelen looked up. “Is it this week?”

“Definitely this week,” Sela confirmed, patting his head.

Maria didn’t smile.

But her gaze flicked to me for just a second. Like a thread pulled tight.

We understood each other.

Callum leaned back, content to let his silence speak now that the sparks had died down. For now.

I resumed eating, slower now. Letting the taste actually register.

The meat was seasoned with crushed juniper. A little piney. A little sweet. Just like this damn kingdom—too cold on the outside, strangely warm when you bit in deep enough.

I wasn’t going to take her throne.

But gods help the fool who tried.

Because if Maria ever fell…

The entire mountain might come down with her.

And I’d make sure it burned on the way down.

But of course, the bad thing about being that guy—the muscle, the shield, the temporary solution—was that when I left, the real problem would come back. Probably worse. Like a mold infestation with better armor and political ambition.

Once I went home… this place would be in danger again.

And yeah, technically, the Dragon Tribe and the Snow Elves had an alliance. An old one. With dusty signatures and ceremonial promises carved into glacier stone.

But that didn’t mean I could meddle.

Especially not with their military. Or what remained of it.

I wasn’t allowed to march dragons through their gates or set up permanent guard rotations. That would look like occupation. And Maria? She was already hanging by threads woven from frost and stubborn dignity. Any more pressure and—

‘Ah, crap,’ I shouted in my head, stabbing a piece of meat with a little more aggression than necessary.

I didn’t even get to finish spiraling down my quiet existential dread, because I felt a small tug on my coat.

I turned, thinking it was Sela needing help with Kaelen’s napkin art, but no—

It was Kaelen himself.

He stood there next to me, tiny and serious and clearly carrying something of grave importance in his hands. A piece of paper. Slightly crumpled. Covered in strange, uneven lines that might’ve once been colored with half-broken crayons.

“Hey,” I said, lowering my voice.

He held it up like an offering.

“I drew you,” he said.

I blinked.

“You… what?”

He looked me dead in the eyes. “I drew you.”

I carefully took the paper, afraid if I touched it wrong I’d accidentally crush his entire spirit.

It was… chaotic.

A bowl with angry eyebrows. A lumpy, heroic-looking carrot with a sword. A vague fireball in the background. And something—

“…Is this a dragon?” I asked.

He nodded proudly. “That’s you.”

I squinted. “This is me?”

“Yeah!” he said. “You’re heating the soup. Because you hate the cold.”

Sela, who was leaning over the back of her chair now to get a look, giggled. Loudly.

“I see the resemblance,” she whispered.

“It has three wings,” I muttered, inspecting it. “And what’s this thing on the tail?”

“That’s your heat stick.”

“…My what?”

“You use it to stir the soup when it’s too cold.”

I nearly choked. “You mean my sword?”

He nodded again, like I was the idiot here.

I couldn’t help it. I smiled. The real kind, not the diplomatic one I wore for the sake of Callum and the rest of the glass menagerie.

“It’s a nice picture,” I said, folding it carefully—not too tightly—and tucking it into the inside pocket of my coat like it was some kind of royal decree.

I reached out and ruffled his hair.

It was soft. Lighter than snow, but just as stubborn. He frowned immediately, those small brows furrowing.

“You’re hot,” he mumbled.

My hand froze.

“Ah. Right,” I said, pulling back. “You don’t like hot.”

He hadn’t brushed off my hand, but he didn’t lean into it either.

I’d forgotten. Just for a second.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

He just nodded, like we’d made a quiet truce. I would be warm. He would tolerate it. As long as the soup monster stayed on his side of the battlefield.

He turned and went back to his seat, climbing up beside Sela again. She handed him a moon-shaped cookie. Peace was restored.

But I sat there, a little quieter.

Kaelen didn’t understand all of this. Not the politics. Not the history. Maybe not even the full weight of Cedric’s fall. But he understood enough. Or at least… Maria’s version of it. Whatever story she’d whispered to him late at night to help him sleep. Whatever simplified truth she crafted so he wouldn’t cry or ask why his world suddenly lost its center.

And still, he drew me.

Me—who brought fire to a kingdom of snow.