nanakawaichan
patreon
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 449. Humorless
🕑 Added 2025-05-02 18:14:32 +0000 UTCDragon King's Harem Chapter 449. Humorless
Al’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He leaned back on the armrest, elbows on knees, fingers laced under his chin. There was that flicker again—strategy overtaking rage. War mode was still on, but now he was thinking. Calculating.
“I can understand if he came because of me,” he finally said, voice low. “Makes sense. I’m a loose thread. One with a sharp edge. But…” His eyes narrowed, locking on me. “Why you?”
I let the silence breathe between us for a second before I answered. My tail flicked once behind me, more for warmth than flair.
“He’s sent his delegations to the palace before,” I said, slow and steady. “Polite ones. Scripted ones. But we never met.”
I stepped toward the tall frost-glass window, watching my breath cloud against the cold. Below, the palace courtyard lay quiet under starlight, snow mounded like sugar frosting on everything. Lanterns glowed faintly from the edges, and far off, I could see the tips of the queen’s ceremonial spires catching moonlight like blades of ice.
“So when he heard I woke up from hibernation—when he heard I was actually moving again—he got curious. Curious enough to take the risk and show up.”
“Risky move for a man who loves control,” Al muttered.
“Exactly,” I said, turning back to him. “But a calculated one. He probably guessed I’d get invited to the wedding, and even if I didn’t show up, no loss for him. But if I did? Instant opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump into me. Have a conversation. Make it look civil.”
“Typical,” Al finished for me.
I nodded once. “Diplomatic theater.”
He clicked his tongue. “Yeah. That does sound like him.’”
“And the best part,” I added, “he has to send the delegation no matter what. It’s the queen’s wedding. Everyone who’s anyone is expected to send blessings.”
Al leaned back, looking up at the icy ceiling like it offended him. “Damn good setup for a man who doesn’t give a damn about love.”
“Or weddings,” I muttered. “But that’s not all.”
He blinked, focusing on me again. “There’s more?”
I met his gaze. “What if he caught the spy worms?”
Al didn’t speak immediately. He sat still, processing. Then. “I haven’t heard from them. If he did catch them…” Al’s voice dropped lower, tight. “And he killed them…”
“They don’t carry any marks. No sigils. No links,” I said before he could spiral. “He can’t trace them back to us.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t try,” Al growled.
“Exactly. That’s why he came himself. Not to accuse. Not to declare war. But to see us. To watch. To read.”
Al’s mouth curled into something between a grimace and a smirk. “Tch. Bastard.”
I crossed the room again and poured a drink from the glass decanter on the sideboard. Not wine. Something clear, strong, elven. It tasted like peppermint and daggers.
“He plays too many angles,” Al muttered. “Even now. Showing up quietly like some kind of cold breeze. Watching us from the inside out.”
I handed him a glass. He took it without looking, but drank.
“You think he knows about the rune?” he asked, quieter now.
I tilted my head slightly. “If he does, he hasn’t shown it. But if he suspects, it might be enough to make a move. Or not at all. I doubt he’ll care about the queen or the prince. You know him.”
Al gave a dry laugh, bitter and sharp around the edges. “Yes. I can imagine that. It’s his personality.”
The sound lingered between us—tight and humorless.
I downed my drink, felt it burn its way down my throat and settle in my chest like a coal trying to be a heart. “Yeah. Irony.”
The silence that followed wasn’t quiet.
It had teeth.
It pressed in from the frost-glass windows and settled behind the gilded elven columns, like the whole palace was holding its breath. Even the enchanted floor felt colder underfoot.
I set the glass down on the polished sideboard and rubbed the back of my neck. “We need to move soon,” I said, voice low.
“Before or after the ceremony?” Al asked.
“Before,” I said immediately. “I’m not risking that kid’s life just to keep appearances.”
Al leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “You’re sure it’s safe? He still has the rune, right?”
I nodded. “But Sela should’ve already given him the crystal. It’ll jam the rune if it activates. At least that’s what it’s supposed to do.”
“Supposed to,” he echoed, not comforted. His fingers tightened around the glass he hadn’t even touched. “What if it fails?”
“Then we improvise,” I said. “And pray we’re faster than the trigger.”
He didn’t respond. Just stood up slowly, the chair creaking behind him. His boots made soft, sharp clicks against the cold stone floor as he paced, one hand still holding the untouched drink, the other clenched loosely at his side.
I watched him. Every step radiated unease. Al never paced. Not unless something was eating at him.
“You look restless,” I said.
He stopped. Didn’t turn. Just stood there a second. Then, voice lower than before, almost hesitant. “Kinda.”
I waited.
“The prince…” he began, then trailed off. His fingers rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “He reminds me of my little brother.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his tone.
“He was about that age when he died,” Al continued quietly. “Same weird curiosity. Same stubborn streak. Would follow me everywhere. Even when I told him not to.”
I didn’t say anything. Just let him talk.
“I should’ve watched him better,” he murmured. “I should’ve known what would happen.”
“You were a kid too,” I said gently.
“Still doesn’t erase it,” he said. “Still doesn’t stop it from clawing at the back of my head every time I see Kaelen smiling like the world can’t touch him.”
He turned to me then, eyes darker than before. “If anything happens to that boy…”
I nodded. “It won’t.”
But the promise felt heavy, even in my mouth.
Because we both knew something was already in motion.
And promises meant nothing if we weren’t fast enough to stop what was coming.
