The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 100: Shadows Over Dravos

Chapter 100: Shadows Over Dravos

>>Aelin

At first, no one noticed.

It was only a faint dimming of the lights—a strange flicker in the magic lanterns that lined the domed ceiling of the ballroom. A subtle shift in the energy that stirred the hair on the back of my neck. I blinked up, confused. The music faltered, and then a sharp chord from the quartet snapped off mid-note. Murmurs rose, confused voices overlapping like ripples in water. And then—

A scream.

It echoed through the great hall like a whip crack. Panic bloomed instantly. Nobles in glittering robes shoved their way through the crowd. Chairs scraped against marble. Glass shattered. The crowd turned on itself, fear a living thing in the air, thick as the incense smoke now curling to the floor.

I was pushed once. Then again. A hard shoulder slammed into mine and I stumbled. Hands flailed around me as lords and ladies scrambled for doors, windows—anything. I was caught in the crush of silks and claws and pheromones. Panic clawed up my throat. I could feel the rising energy—dark, ancient magic, pulsing through the floor beneath my heels.

I tried to breathe. To remember where Draegon was. But people screamed. The ballroom doors flung open with a loud bang as guards came rushing in. Someone else shouted that the outer walls had been breached. That something was coming.

The darkness deepened. A cold wind swept through the palace, though no windows had opened. Magic frayed at the edges, a wild, uncontrolled energy stirring.

Then his voice came.

"SILENCE."

!!!

It roared across the chaos like thunder cracking stone.

Draegon’s voice.

Commanding. Raw with power. It didn’t just echo. It shook the bones of the palace.

Everyone stopped. Breathless. Still. Like statues of flesh. The only sound was the thudding of my heart.

I turned to him.

He stood at the top of the stairs in his full formal attire— His purple eyes burned with authority. The swirling shadows around his shoulders glowed faintly. Not fear. Not doubt. Power.

"TO ARMS," he bellowed. "ALL GUARDS TO FORMATIONS. PROTECT THE WALLS. PROTECT THE PEOPLE."

The demon guards rushed with renewed precision. Red and black armor clinked and clashed as they moved into position. The chaos funneled into discipline. A command structure built on years of war took shape again within minutes.

Seeing him command made my heart skip a beat. I looked at him-no, I stared at him in awe. At how he was dealing with the situation.

Then I saw him—King Orin. My father.

He pushed through his entourage, his crown askew. His human guards followed his gestures as he barked orders. "Ready defensive spells! Prepare our carriages for evac—but do NOT engage until you have confirmation from me!"

I stared, stunned by his presence, until another wave of cold hit me.

The sky outside the great glass window darkened. I turned slowly, joining the others as we all looked.

An eye.

A single, massive, open eye.

Suspended in the black sky like a godless moon. Its lid opened like a wound. And from it dripped a thick, oozing black substance. Like ink made from rot.

Behind me, Drakkar and Draken emerged through the side corridor, their expressions grim and drawn. They exchanged a glance with Draegon—a silent warrior’s nod. I couldn’t even tell if they hated him anymore.

Not in that moment.

And Draegon...

He descended the stairs, cape trailing like spilled shadow. He did not flinch. Did not run.

My heart twisted with something I hadn’t expected.

Awe.

And respect.

Here stood the demon king. My husband. Unyielding as the stone beneath our feet.

"Secure the central gate. Close the south wing. Move the civilians underground," he said to his command captain. Each word clipped, efficient.

And then—

"Princess"

I turned.

Ariston stood beside me now, his sword already drawn. His face was set, eyes scanning the perimeter, "We need to get you out of here," I looked at him with wide quiet eyes, "Now," He demanded.

His tone was so confident I ended up nodding right away.

He took my hand at my response and began to take me away.

The corridors of the palace were wide enough to ride horses through, yet they felt impossibly tight as we moved through them. The sounds of footsteps and hushed instructions echoed in the high ceilings above, and the distant roar of a horn sent shivers down my spine.

Ariston led the way, sword drawn, flanked by two demon guards in armor that shimmered faintly with magic. I stayed close to his side as we descended the wide staircase to the lower levels—where civilians were being escorted to the underground stronghold.

I saw fear. Not just in the human guests, but in demons too. Nobles gripping their children. Warriors barely restraining panic.

Then we passed a window—tall and jagged like a shard of broken starlight.

I stopped.

The sky outside had grown darker still, the shadows thick and almost liquid. From the great black eye in the sky, the tar-like substance was oozing down.

The first creature fell from the eye-gate like a dropped puppet.

And then another. And another.

Grotesque things, misshapen and slick with black ooze. All of them crawling or flying or slithering toward the palace. Seeing them so close made my heart drop.

How will they fight these many creatures? Will they be able to gather enough troops? The gate isn’t as big as the first one but it’s still big and it has opened so close to civilization.

It took the army two years to take these monsters down?

How will they hold them down now?

I turned to Ariston, who had stopped beside me.

"Princss," he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. "We need to move. The eastern chamber is secure."

I nodded, swallowing thickly.

He turned to lead me—but I didn’t follow.

My feet didn’t move.

Something inside me twisted, pulled. I couldn’t help but think about it.

Ariston noticed. "What is it?" He stopped and looked at me.

I looked up at him. The words came out quieter than I expected. "Should I be running?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I can help. I have... power. You know I do." I looked at him, straight into his red eyes.

His expression darkened slightly. Not with anger— but with worry.

"Princess," he said. "You don’t have any battle experience. The things out there aren’t just monsters. They’re weapons made from nightmares."

"But..."

I looked past him, to the flickering light of the great ballroom behind us, to where Draegon had stood just minutes ago, commanding an army.

My husband.

He hadn’t hesitated. Not for a breath. He had faced down the terror like a king born for it. I could still hear his voice echoing in my head. I could still feel the weight of his presence, standing against the darkness.

And me?

I was supposed to hide?

I was the Queen of Demons. The consort of the war hero.

And yet I was going to cower underground while my people—my husband—faced an unspeakable horror?

Wouldn’t they hate me more for it? Demons are all for power and they think the powerful should rule. Wouldn’t my action shame me?

Wouldn’t the demons who already questioned my place here—who whispered behind my back about my human blood—see this as proof that I was indeed weak?

I looked back at Ariston, a war waging inside me.

"I don’t want to be in the shadows anymore." I spoke quietly, my voice slightly trembling because I was still afraid.

He looked pained. "I know. But now isn’t the time to prove something."

I stared at him. My breath quickened. Not from fear.

From the need to act.

There was a strange sensation inside of me.

The power inside me stirred—something deep and ancient. Like it recognized the creatures outside.

I felt something hot in the middle of my forehead.

But Ariston was right.

I didn’t know how to fight.

I would just get in the way.

Yet.