Dragon King's Harem Chapter 488. Like The Wyvern
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 488. Like The Wyvern
“You’re good at ruling and in the battle, Your Majesty,” he said flatly. “But not at cutting monsters.”
“I didn’t waste any meat,” I replied smugly, holding up a flawless side of ribs.
“You just cut into the stomach lining.”
“Bonus flavor.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You’re jealous.”
He rolled his eyes and went back to his work, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
I smiled.
The sky darkened slowly. Smoke curled above us. Food cooked. Voices grew louder. A few civilians—hungry, cautious—approached the gates. The guards let them in.
And the aroma?
It spread.
Through ruin. Through trauma. Through broken towers and shattered pride.
Hope smelled like meat and snow and roasted herbs today.
And I was fine with that.
I stood by the edge of the plaza, arms folded, watching the makeshift feast unfold beneath flickering magelight. Soldiers laughed. Civilians gathered near the long fire pits. Smoke curled upward in plumes, trailing the scent of salted meat and melting spice-root. The wyvern perched on the far cliffside, gnawing on a bone the size of a cart axle, occasionally growling in satisfaction. No one complained about the noise. He earned his share.
So had the rest of us.
From the side kitchen near the wrecked palace gates, I saw Sela and Jyne appear—both with ash-streaked cheeks and sleeves rolled up, carrying plates. Not the fine silverware of the noble banquet hall. Just clay and steel, mismatched and chipped, piled high with ribs glazed in thick honey-marrow sauce.
They brought it to Kaelen.
The boy’s eyes lit up, just a little. His usual shell of solemn stillness cracked for half a second. But before they could even tell him to eat, he turned. He looked at me.
And walked over. Just extended the plate toward me, arms a little shaky, but determined.
“For you,” he said. Quiet. Like he was passing along a secret.
I stared at the ribs. Glazed, steaming, perfectly charred edges. Probably the best cuts—center meat, thick bones, still sizzling a little.
“…You sure?” I asked, taking the plate slowly. “This was yours.”
Kaelen nodded. “You need your share.”
Then he added, with absolute sincerity.
“Like the wyvern.”
I stared at him. Then blinked. Then stared again.
“You and him,” Kaelen said, nodding toward the cliffside where the wyvern was busy snapping another bone. “You’re both dragons. You should eat.”
He turned and walked back toward Sela without waiting for my answer.
And me?
I stood there holding the ribs.
Stunned.
“…He just… compared me to a wyvern,” I muttered.
Al, who had just finished carving another slab near the firepit, turned slightly and raised an eyebrow.
I saw it.
The twitch of his mouth.
Then his shoulders started to shake.
“You want to laugh, don’t you,” I said, deadpan.
He didn't even deny it. “I mean… it’s a fair comparison. You both breathe fire. You both bite things. You both growl when you’re hungry—”
“Shut up,” I said flatly.
Al snorted, barely suppressing a full-blown laugh. “I’m just saying. Kid’s not wrong.”
“Shut up.”
He doubled over laughing, finally letting it out. Meanwhile, I just stared down at the ribs like they personally offended me.
But… I still took a bite.
Damn it, the kid was right. It was the best cut.
And then I felt her.
Maria.
Her presence was soft—but firm. She didn’t stomp or glide like the nobles did. She walked with the calm confidence of someone used to pain, yet still willing to show up. Her boots barely made a sound on the cobbled path, but I heard them anyway. Or maybe I just knew.
She stepped up beside me as I took another bite, steam rising from the bowl I was cradling. Still wearing her patched cloak, still smelling like pine, blood, and lavender oil.
“You didn’t wait for me?” she asked, voice quiet.
I gave her a sideways glance, chewing. “Wasn’t planning to eat. But Kaelen handed this to me.”
Maria blinked. “Kaelen did?”
“Yeah. Picked the best cut and everything. Said I deserved it. Compared me to the wyvern.”
She raised a brow.
“I’m serious,” I added. “Apparently, we both fought. We both bite things. So. Fair trade.”
Maria gave a low, surprised laugh. The kind that didn't come often. “He's not wrong.”
I took another bite, then held the bowl out toward her. “Want some?”
She hesitated for a second, then took it and sat beside me on the edge of the stone planter. I watched as she stirred the broth with the spoon, then took a slow bite. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. The steam framed her face like a soft veil.
“This is good,” she said.
“It’s mammock. Roasted, stewed, and spiced. Al and his guys did it right.”
“I’m not surprised.” She handed the bowl back. “But you should eat more.”
I cracked a tired smile and nodded.
She stayed beside me, watching the firelight flicker across the palace gates. Her eyes caught a golden glint of torchlight as she tilted her head. Then she spoke again—softer this time.
“You saved a lot of people today. Even if they don’t say it.”
I swallowed slowly, the stew’s heat spreading through my chest. “Yeah, well… some of them aren’t exactly cheering.”
Maria’s eyes followed mine.
Across the garden, under the shadow of the broken obelisk, a small gathering of cloaked delegates stood stiff as statues. Robes too clean. Expressions too rehearsed. A few wore crests I knew—the Council of Firelands, the Eastern Riverlords, a merchant prince’s son draped in silk he didn’t earn.
And then, near the edge—
Her.
The witch king’s daughter.
High collar. Black emerald necklace. Hair like ink. Eyes sharp enough to draw blood without blinking.
“They don’t like what I did,” I muttered.
“No,” Maria said.
“I didn’t ask for applause, but still.”
“They wanted you to break. To burn. You didn’t. That’s why they’re angry.”
I looked sideways at her. She didn’t flinch. Her voice was gentle, not soft—like she’d lived with disappointment long enough to spot it coming.
“And you?” I asked. “You mad I dropped a mammock on the palace lawn?”
She met my gaze. “No. I’m glad Kaelen smiled again. I’m glad you brought food instead of flames. And I’m glad someone still believes this place is worth feeding.”