Dragon King's Harem Chapter 575. The Bride Betrayal I
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 575. The Bride Betrayal I
Durharn watched from the platform, breathing hard, one hand clutching Seranaya’s arm. His eyes were bright with rage and poison and something like victory.
Seranaya watched too.
But not like him.
She was measuring.
Her gaze followed my grip, my breathing, the delay in my movements. She wanted confirmation.
So I gave her confirmation.
I let Nightmare dip.
As if my arm nearly failed.
Her lips parted slightly.
Queen Elowen’s smile deepened.
The fight lasted longer than it needed to.
The guards attacked in waves, but the poison had already weakened them. Their footing slipped. Their reaction speed dulled. Their breathing turned ragged. One collapsed before I even touched him, dropping his spear and clutching his stomach. Another swung too wide and fell against a table, knocking plates and poisoned pastries everywhere.
I moved between them like a desperate king refusing to admit he was losing. Rough. Angry. Stubborn. Nightmare flashed dark arcs through the air, striking weapons, armor, shields.
A spear grazed my sleeve.
An axe struck the table near Marissa.
Sela’s eyes went murderous.
I shot her a look.
Not yet.
She obeyed.
Another guard lunged, and I kicked his shield hard enough to send him sliding backward across the floor, but I staggered after the movement like it cost me everything.
The hall watched.
Phoenix Queen Seraphel stood tense, ember aura flickering around her but not intervening.
The Fairy Queen clutched her daughter’s hand, eyes grim.
Dwarven nobles whispered in horror.
And Al?
Still on the floor.
Now lying face down.
One hand weakly raised as if reaching toward me.
“Your Majesty…” he groaned into the stone. “My body… betrays me…”
I was really going to demote him.
No, promote him.
No, throw him out a window.
I would think about it later.
Finally, the guards stopped coming.
One by one, the poisoned soldiers fell to their knees, breathing hard, weapons slipping from numb hands. Some leaned against shields. Some outright dropped to the floor.
I stood in the middle of them, Nightmare pointed down, chest rising and falling like I had just fought for my life.
Then I staggered.
Hard.
Evelina rushed to me first. Marissa caught my other arm. Sela moved behind me, supporting my back while pretending her own legs could barely hold her.
I leaned into them.
Into the table.
My breath came rough.
My sword hand trembled.
The hall saw a dragon king still standing, but barely.
Seranaya and Elowen looked certain now.
Absolutely certain.
I was poisoned.
The curse was triggered.
My wives were weakened.
My royal magician had become decorative floor furniture.
Their trap had worked.
I slowly lifted Nightmare again.
The tip aimed toward Durharn.
My voice came out low, cracked, furious.
“Fight me…” I rasped. “You coward.”
Durharn’s eyes flared. “My king, no—” Seranaya whispered, but her voice was too late.
Durharn stepped forward.
One hand reached for the axe at his side. His face twisted with rage, pride, and poison. He looked ready to come down those stairs and meet me in front of everyone.
Then… He gasped.
The sound was wet.
The hall froze.
Durharn looked down.
A thick root had pierced through his chest from behind.
Dark red spread across his ceremonial armor.
The root twisted once, blooming tiny white flowers along the blood-soaked bark.
Seranaya stood behind him.
Her hand raised.
Her face pale.
Her eyes wide with perfect horror.
But her mana?
Her mana pulsed through the root like a heartbeat.
Durharn’s axe slipped from his hand.
-Clang!
The sound echoed through the whole hall.
And finally, the real betrayal showed itself.
For one breath, no one moved.
Not even me.
The entire ceremonial hall had frozen around the sight of King Durharn standing there with a root piercing through his chest, blood darkening the front of his beautiful armor, the same armor he had worn like a proud groom barely half an hour ago.
That was the ugliest part.
The outfit.
All of it still looked like a wedding.
Only now the bride’s gift was coming out of his body.
Durharn’s mouth opened, but no words came at first. Just a wet breath. His hand rose slowly, trembling, fingers touching the root that had torn through him. His eyes shifted downward in disbelief, then slowly turned over his shoulder.
Toward Seranaya.
The woman he had defended in front of every noble in his kingdom.
“Why…” His voice cracked, barely more than a rasp. “Why, my love?”
Seranaya’s face was pale.
At first.
Her eyes widened, lips trembling, hand still lifted as if even she couldn’t believe what her own magic had done. She looked like a frightened wife watching tragedy unfold in front of her.
“My king…” she whispered. “I… I…”
Her fingers shook beautifully.
Honestly, even now, she still acted.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I don’t have a choice.”
Durharn’s face twisted, not from pain this time, but from confusion.
That hurt him more.
I could tell.
The wound in his chest was nothing compared to the way those words stabbed whatever remained of his heart.
“Don’t…” he rasped. “Have a choice?”
Seranaya lowered her head.
“No…”
For one second, her shoulders trembled.
Then they stopped.
The silence stretched.
And her face changed.
It was like a mask slipping off.
Her lips curved. Evil. “Because…” she said, voice losing every trace of fragile bride softness, “you are too naive.”
Durharn stared at her.
The hall went colder than stone.
Seranaya’s smile widened. “I hate you.”
A few guests gasped.
She stepped closer behind him, the root still pulsing from her palm into his body.
“You make me sick.”
The root moved.
Durharn screamed.
Not loudly at first.
It came out broken, dragged from his throat as the thick root twisted inside his chest. Then smaller roots spread from it, not across his skin, no, that would’ve been too mercifully visible.
They spread under his skin.
Bulging along his neck, crawling beneath his armor plates, tracing cruel lines beneath flesh like parasites searching for warm places to nest. His arms jerked. His knees buckled. His breath came in harsh, wet bursts.
Too late.