Dragon King's Harem Chapter 501. The Proposal I

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 501. The Proposal I

Before any further insult could be launched like a spell, the grand doors opened.

Maria entered.

Kaelen followed.

The air in the dining hall shifted instantly, like the temperature dipped and rose all at once—magic, presence, politics, and something more… personal.

Kaelen looked tense.

His hand gripped Maria’s tightly as they stepped forward. His clothes was simpler than usual, more practical than ornamental. His silver-white hair was tied back, but a few strands stuck to his forehead like he’d been sweating before walking in.

But when he spotted me, his expression eased a little. Not much. Just a twitch of the lips.

He smiled.

It was awkward. Sincere. Almost sheepish.

And then he gave me a tiny wave.

I smiled back—slow, deliberate, calm.

‘We’re good,’ that smile said. ‘You did well yesterday. And you’re not alone now.’

Then I turned my gaze to Maria.

She hadn’t broken stride once. Regal, graceful, quiet power wrapped in snow-colored silk and fur. The crown she wore wasn’t made of gold—it was ancient root-crystal grown from elven soil. Living, enchanted. And it looked right on her head.

She didn’t wave. She didn’t blink.

But our eyes met.

And she nodded.

Then—just the smallest curve of her lips.

A smile.

Soft. Subtle. But for me?

It was enough.

The answer was there.

I didn’t need to speak.

She understood me. And she was giving permission the way only a queen could—without words, without spectacle.

Just trust.

They moved toward their seats at the far end of the table, flanked by a pair of guards and one elderly court steward who looked like his bones were older than the throne itself.

Maria sat first. Kaelen followed.

“Good morning, everyone,” Maria said, her voice gentle but clear. “I hope we haven’t made you that hungry.”

A few polite chuckles floated through the air.

One noble—a heavy-set man with frost in his beard and too many rings on his fingers—sighed dramatically. “We are used to long waits, Your Majesty. But dragon appetites are famous, are they not?” He looked straight at me. “Perhaps our guests need extra portions.”

Jyne shifted beside me. Her tails flicked once—dangerously.

“I’ve already eaten a lot yesterday,” I said with a calm smile. “But I’m always happy to hunt more if your kitchen lacks provisions.”

Another noble murmured something under his breath, loud enough to be heard. “Still... it’s unusual for Her Majesty to be this late to a public meal.”

Maria raised an eyebrow—not sharply, just enough to make the man shrink in his seat. “I needed to speak with Prince Kaelen about a few matters before we joined.”

“Oh?” The old man smiled behind his goblet. “Matters of state, or matters… more personal?”

Maria didn’t blink. “Personal,” she said plainly.

Another voice joined in—this one younger, female, probably bored from wine already. “Perhaps the queen is considering marrying another man. That would be worth the delay.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the room. Nervous. Curious. Dangerous.

Kaelen’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth.

Maria didn’t flinch. Her lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, more a blade with silk wrapped around the handle. “Court gossip is like winter wind—dry, bitter, and always floating where it doesn’t belong.”

The old noble tried to recover. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. We speak only in jest.”

“Then speak softer,” she replied, lifting her teacup. “Lest someone forgets which jests are permitted and which carry consequence.”

The laughter died.

All eyes shifted toward me again.

Another noblewoman, older and wrapped in a shawl that looked woven from enchanted snowflakes, sipped her wine and leaned slightly toward Maria. “There seems to be… tension in the air. Between our allies. I hope it’s not true that the Dragon King and the Witch King don’t get along?”

Callum cleared his throat, setting down his goblet. “I quite get along with the dragon,” he said mildly. “He is… a powerful presence.”

Then his gaze flicked—not at me—but to Al, sitting two seats away. “But his royal magician seems not a fan of me.”

Al froze. The grip on his spoon tightened. Slowly. Carefully. He didn’t speak.

I set down my cup.

“Well, I also get along with the Witch King,” I said casually. “He’s very… controlled. Consistent.” I paused. “But his daughter seems like she doesn’t know how to stop.”

The silence that followed was tangible.

A few nobles gasped quietly. One tried to cough to cover it. Sela stared at her plate like it might rescue her. Jyne reached for a grape and popped it in her mouth like this was her favorite show.

Thiphania didn’t flinch.

She smirked.

“I’m just trying to show my interest to you,” she said, voice like wine laced with venom. “Is that so wrong?”

“It would be nicer,” I said calmly, “if you showed your interest not during a royal meal. Or while my wives are still seated next to me.”

She leaned slightly forward, elbow on the table, chin resting on her hand. “But last night’s roar… showed me something else. Something intimate. Something powerful. A king in the middle of battle. Focused. Passionate. Loud.”

The implication hung thick in the air.

Jyne’s eyebrow shot up. Sela looked like she wanted to bury herself in the snow. Al looked like he was about to throw his tea in someone’s face.

I didn’t flinch.

“Yes,” I said flatly. “It was intimate. With my own wives. Not with someone openly seducing a guest at their family’s table.”

Thiphania’s smirk thinned, like she was deciding whether to take the insult as challenge or rejection.

She looked away. But I caught it—just the faintest curl of frustration beneath her calm.

Good.

Let her learn that fire doesn’t burn for the uninvited.

Maria finally broke the silence, her voice like snow landing on steel.

“Well,” she said lightly, “I think that’s enough… excitement before breakfast.”

She gestured softly with one hand.