Dragon King's Harem Chapter 532. Bitter
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 532. Bitter
Behind me, the chamber remained warm from hearth fire. Silk bedding rustled faintly as the breeze shifted curtains. A half empty goblet of spiced wine rested untouched beside the bed, its scent sharp with cinnamon root and starfruit resin.
I picked it up. Swirled it once. Took a slow sip.
Sweet. Bitter. Familiar.
My reflection shimmered in the dark glass doors behind me. Horns casting long curved shadows. Eyes glowing faint blue fire in low light. A king shaped by fire and politics and too many battles to count.
I wondered, briefly, if I still looked like a monster to some tribes.
Then I remembered.
Monsters didn’t lose sleep worrying about who might die tomorrow.
Footsteps approached softly behind me.
I didn’t turn immediately.
I already knew who it was by scent alone. Wild honey and moon petal oil.
“You’re not sleeping,” Evelina’s voice murmured.
“No,” I admitted.
She stepped beside me. “Thinking about the wedding?”
“Thinking about everything that could go wrong at the wedding.”
She hummed softly, leaning her shoulder against my arm. “You always do this before big battles.”
“It’s not a battle yet.”
“It is,” she said simply. “Just with silk gloves and poisoned wine.”
I chuckled quietly.
Her hand slid into mine, warm fingers curling between mine with quiet certainty. No pressure. No demand. Just presence.
“You’ll handle it,” she said.
“I always do.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She tilted her head, eyes watching me carefully. “You’ll survive it. You always survive. But you’ll handle the others too. Sela. Marissa. Glasha. Even Jyne if she worries herself sick while you’re gone.”
I sighed softly.
“That’s the part that scares me,” I admitted.
She smiled faintly. “Good. Means you still care.”
We stood there together, watching Draconis breathe beneath the moons, the empire alive with quiet anticipation.
Draconis never truly rested.
Neither did I.
I leaned both palms against the stone railing, feeling the faint vibration of mana lines pulsing beneath the mountain itself. The empire was alive beneath my fingers. Breathing. Thriving. Waiting.
Evelina stood beside me, close enough that her shoulder brushed my arm every time the wind shifted her gown.
I broke the silence first.
“Still… this will be different from before.”
My voice came out lower than I intended. Rougher. Weighted with thoughts I had been circling for hours.
She turned slightly, studying my face, her expression calm but attentive. “Different how?”
I exhaled slowly. “Last time, with the snow elf tribe… I pulled something just as reckless. Just as theatrical. But Maria gave her permission. She called me into her dream. She asked me to intervene.” I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the railing, feeling tiny ridges worn smooth by centuries of weather. “I didn’t invade another tribe’s sovereignty. I responded to a request.”
The wind picked up briefly, carrying the distant call of night patrol horns echoing across the outer cliffs.
“But this…” I continued, my jaw tightening. “The dwarf king is not my ally. The nymph court definitely isn’t. We are stepping into territory where my presence alone could be taken as provocation.”
Evelina listened quietly, her fingers drifting toward mine before she gently wrapped them together, her warmth grounding the tension running through my veins.
“Sela and Marissa will be with us,” I said. “And I don’t know if they can hold themselves together when they stand inside the halls that betrayed them.”
“They know when to hold themselves, Argod,” she said softly.
“I know,” I replied immediately. Too fast. Too sharp. I forced myself to breathe again. “I know they’re strong. Stronger than most warriors I’ve commanded. But strength doesn’t erase memory. It doesn’t numb betrayal. Watching them walk back into those places… it will hurt them regardless.”
Evelina squeezed my hand gently, thumb brushing slow circles against my knuckles.
The simple touch unraveled something inside my chest.
“What about Maria?” she asked after a moment, her voice softer, curious rather than concerned. “Does she know you’re planning to attend?”
I nodded, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. “I told her yesterday.”
The memory surfaced easily. Maria standing in the snow elf sanctuary garden, frost flowers blooming beneath her feet while she listened in that serene way of hers that somehow felt both distant and deeply understanding at the same time.
I chuckled quietly. “Kaelen gave me a gift before I left.”
Evelina’s lips curved into a bright smile. “A paper sword?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, warmth creeping into my voice despite myself. “He insisted it was enchanted. Said it would protect me.”
She giggled softly, covering her mouth with her free hand. “I saw them on your desk. You placed them beside your war relics.”
“I did.”
“You arranged them on a velvet cushion.”
“I did,” I repeated, more firmly this time.
Her smile softened into something tender.
“He is a good boy,” I said quietly, my gaze drifting back toward the glowing city below. “Maybe he doesn’t share my blood. Maybe he will never inherit my throne by tradition. But he is a good boy.”
Evelina tilted her head, studying me with careful attention. “You wish to have one of your own someday?”
The question settled between us, carried by the night breeze and the distant hum of Draconis.
“I am…” I began, then stopped.
My gaze drifted far beyond the city lights, beyond the mountains, into memories older than most of my court realized.
“When that time comes…” I continued slowly, “I want this world to be peaceful. Not fractured. Not boiling with hidden wars and poisoned alliances.”
The confession tasted strange on my tongue. Vulnerable. Honest. Almost frightening in its simplicity.
Evelina stepped closer behind me, her arms sliding around my waist, her cheek pressing gently between my shoulder blades. The warmth of her body against mine eased the tension locked in my spine.
“Do you truly believe the world is such a mess?” she asked quietly.
I remained silent for several heartbeats, letting the wind move around us like a patient listener.
“After my ten years of hibernation?” I finally said. “Yes.”
The word came out heavier than expected.