Dragon King's Harem Chapter 535. Not a Battlefield

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 535. Not a Battlefield

Morning came like a war horn.

The first wyvern roar tore through the sky just before dawn fully broke, loud and raw and unapologetic. It echoed across the mountain ridges of Draconis like a declaration. Another answered from the western tower. Then another from the southern cliffs. Soon the entire capital vibrated with those guttural, proud cries. Not elegant like elven bells. Not rhythmic like dwarven drums.

Just dragons saying, ‘we are awake.’

Golden light spilled over the jagged peaks, catching on spires and molten-glass rooftops until the whole empire looked dipped in fire. The air was cold, crisp, and alive with mana currents shifting for the day.

And me?

I was already dressed.

Black and gold royal uniform fitted close to my body, runes etched along the collar. The fabric beneath it was lighter than battle wear, flexible enough for flight. My cloak hung heavy behind me, lined with ember-thread that shimmered subtly when light hit it.

No nonsense.

Just king.

When I stepped into the main hall, they were already waiting.

Evelina stood nearest to the long breakfast table, pale travel robes hugging her frame, healer satchel strapped securely across her waist. Her braid was tighter today, practical. Her eyes calm. Steady. But I could see the alertness there. She was ready.

Sela stood a little to the left, fingers brushing absently against a crystal pendant at her collar. The pendant pulsed faintly, one of her relay prototypes. She wore reinforced leather under a dwarven-cut travel coat, boots laced high. She looked tense.

Marissa stood near the window, sunlight filtering through her hair, catching on faint iridescent threads woven into her sleeves. Nymph silk. Beautiful and dangerous. Her expression was unreadable.

And then there was Al.

Leaning casually against a pillar like he had nowhere better to be.

Tall. Lean. Dark robes that looked simple until you noticed the runes crawling faintly along the hem like living ink. Eyes that never stopped calculating.

He smirked when he saw me.

“Ah. The groom who is not the groom,” he said lightly.

“I am not attending to catch a bouquet,” I replied dryly.

“We could arrange one,” he said. “For intimidation.”

Eir stood beside the table as well.

Arms crossed.

Sulking.

I raised an eyebrow. “You look like someone stole your sword.”

“You are leaving me behind again,” he muttered. “And taking him.”

He jerked his thumb at Al.

Al gave him a mock bow. “I am flattered.”

“You are twisted,” Eir shot back.

“I am efficient,” Al corrected.

I stepped forward and placed a hand on Eir’s shoulder. “You are a blade,” I said calmly. “You are best used where a blade is needed. This…” I gestured vaguely toward the horizon where the dwarven kingdom lay beyond mountain ranges. “…is not a battlefield.”

“Yet,” Eir muttered.

“Exactly. You stay. You coordinate. If this goes wrong, I need someone reliable here.”

His jaw tightened. But he nodded. Loyal as ever.

Breakfast waited.

The table was a spread of ridiculous abundance.

Molten honey cakes stacked high, steam rising from their golden surfaces. Spiced sausage glazed in ember syrup. Frostberries imported from Maria’s northern territory, still glistening with chilled dew. Bone broth stew simmering thick with root vegetables and fire-pepper slices. Fox tribe citrus rolls dusted in powdered sugar that shimmered faintly.

And in the center, a carved stone platter holding dragonfruit slices glowing faint red at the core.

The smell alone could wake the dead.

I took my seat at the head.

They followed.

Glasha entered last.

She wore a dress, deep crimson one. Her green skin caught the morning light warmly, tusks slightly visible when she pressed her lips together.

She hesitated for half a second before taking her seat.

Not as hostile anymore.

Just unsure.

“Eat,” I said simply.

No one argued.

Plates filled. Steam rose. The sounds of cutlery against ceramic and quiet chewing filled the hall.

But tension sat at the table too.

Sela’s fingers were tighter than usual around her cup.

“Sela is ready,” she said suddenly, before anyone even asked. “Crystals synced. Backup crystals synced. Relay anchor calibrated. Sela double checked.”

“You triple checked,” Al corrected lazily.

She glared at him. “Sela does not trust your runes.”

“My runes are elegant.”

“Your runes explode.”

“Only when poorly handled.”

“Sela handles things fine.”

I raised a hand before this devolved into arcane pettiness. “Enough. It will work.”

Marissa hadn’t touched much of her food.

She was staring at the honey cake like it had personally offended her.

“You’re not hungry,” Evelina observed gently.

Marissa’s lips curved slightly. “Nymph courts do not host peaceful weddings.”

That was not comforting.

“Sela…” Sela said quietly, correcting herself, “Sela can handle herself.”

“I know,” I replied.

She looked up at me, eyes sharp. “Sela will not lose control.”

“I know,” I repeated.

Marissa exhaled slowly. “If we see her… the queen…”

The word mother carried weight.

“You will not confront her alone,” I said firmly.

Al sipped his tea. “And you will absolutely not improvise a dramatic public speech without cue.”

Marissa shot him a look. “You are not my king.”

“No,” Al agreed cheerfully. “But I am the one who can turn your enemies inside out without touching them.”

Jyne leaned back in her chair, tails flicking lazily. “Please don’t turn anyone inside out at the wedding. That would ruin the aesthetic.”

“Only if necessary,” Al said.

Glasha glanced at me quickly, then away.

Small progress.

Evelina poured me more tea.

Her fingers brushed mine deliberately as she handed me the cup.

“You are smiling,” she observed quietly.

I was.

Damn it.

Part of me still felt bad for Sela and Marissa.

Another part of me?

It was jumping.

Yes. No paperwork today. Or tomorrow. Thank heavens.

I took a slow sip of tea, warmth spreading through my chest.

“This is going to be interesting,” I said lightly.

Sela narrowed her eyes. “Sela does not enjoy your definition of interesting.”

Marissa nodded. “Your interesting usually involves explosions.”

“That was one time.”

“It was three,” Al corrected.

Jyne laughed.

Even Glasha’s lips twitched slightly.

The tension cracked a little.

We needed that.

I stood first.

Chairs shifted. Plates were set aside.

Outside, the wyverns roared again.

Time.