The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 113: Finding Him

Chapter 113: Finding Him

>>Ariston

I pushed myself up from the rubble, coughing dust out of my lungs as I blinked through the smoky air.

The courtyard was still. Not silent—never silent—but stilled in that momentary aftershock that followed a monster’s fall.

And then I saw it.

A golden blaze from above—a thread of flame slashing the battlefield like the blade of a god—and I froze, chest heaving. It struck the spider nun straight in the eye, right where her sickly glow pulsed.

Her scream pierced the world.

She collapsed with the sound of a mountain being brought to its knees.

And before I could move, before I could breathe, I saw her.

Aelin.

She was fainting. The moment the flame vanished, her knees gave out. I barely registered the astonishment rippling through the human delegates before Draegon—wounded, battered, half-drenched in black blood—launched upward in a final, staggering burst of strength.

His wings flared once.

And he caught her.

His arms wrapped around her before she even hit the floor, and then he held her like she was made of starlight—something precious and impossible. Something he could not afford to lose.

The humans gasped. King Orin, especially, looked like his entire belief system had just collapsed beneath him.

From a distance, I saw the king step forward, lips moving rapidly. No doubt demanding answers. Demanding explanations.

But Draegon didn’t give him any.

"I need to make sure my wife is alright," he said—his voice hoarse, but unyielding.

And without so much as glancing back at the battlefield—or even checking if the spider nun was truly dead—he beat his wings and took off with her in his arms, disappearing over the broken walls.

Gone.

I exhaled slowly and dusted the ash and stone off my clothes, then stepped down from the rubble.

There were soldiers already surrounding the fallen spider nun, some warily holding spears toward her twisted limbs, others inspecting the blackened mess where her eye had been.

She wasn’t moving.

I looked toward the far walls again, hoping—half-hoping—expecting to see him.

The man from before.

That same figure in leather, all lazy amusement and crimson eyes, like war itself was just a performance staged for his own curiosity.

But he wasn’t there.

I sighed, then moved through the courtyard, toward the nun’s body, brushing shoulders with guards and normal demons alike. Drakkar joined the growing crowd, his brows tight, his hands still dripping from the earlier clash.

He gave me a glance, then looked down at the destroyed core with that calculating look of his.

"She’s really dead," he muttered.

I nodded once. "The core’s gone. She won’t be getting up again."

Around us, the demons had begun murmuring, voices laced with disbelief—and awe.

"She burned her down in a second..."

"Even the dragon brothers couldn’t get through that shell..."

"I thought only the prince’s bloodline could—"

I caught myself smiling faintly as the demons complimented her. Too bad she can’t hear this herself. Because who would have thought? A mere human princess having more power than the dragon demons.

I tilted my head upward slowly, just wanted to look at the expressions of the demons who were admiring the princess now but—

There.

Across from me, on the other side of the nun, standing casually among the gathered crowd was a familiar figure. He had blended in so nicely, no one questioned where he had come from or who he was.

No one even noticed him

The man with red eyes.

His posture was easy. He was bent down a little, staring at the spider-nun, that same half-smile tugging at his lips, like all of this had played out exactly as he expected. Red eyes gleamed in the light of the ruined courtyard as he stared down at the smoldering corpse of the nun’s shattered face.

Watching.

Not with fear.

Not even surprise.

Just... amusement. I was so surprised to see him right in front of me, only like a few meters away, that the word came out of my mouth on my own.

"Dad."

The word slipped out of me before I could stop it—quiet, raw, barely more than breath. But somehow, he heard it.

His head lifted. Those familiar crimson eyes met mine.

And for a heartbeat—just one—he smiled.

That same smile. Wry. Careless. The one that haunted my dreams, stitched into my memories like an old scar that never truly healed.

But he didn’t say anything.

He turned.

And began to walk away.

"Wait!" I called out, voice cracking as I surged forward. He was already slipping through the gathered crowd, swallowed by the chaos of soldiers and survivors and smoke curling through the courtyard. "Hey!"

I ran—around the spider nun’s massive, crumpled corpse, pushing past stunned soldiers, ignoring Drakkar’s voice calling my name. My boots kicked through ash and debris as I dodged weapons and wreckage, scanning every face, every figure.

But he was gone.

Just like before.

No trail. No lingering presence. No trace. I shot my head around like crazy, anyone looking at me would worry that I might snap my neck but I had to get a look of every nook and cranny

I had to find him!

But-

It was like he’d never been there at all.

My breath caught in my throat as I stood in the middle of the courtyard, heart pounding, eyes wild. I spun once, twice, searching—desperate. The crowd was thinning. A few soldiers gave me strange looks. One of the demon healers walked past muttering about the wounded. But he—he—was nowhere.

Again.

Years had passed. I had grown. Fought. Bled. Survived.

And still, he disappeared as easily as a shadow under moonlight.

Just like that day.

The day he left me behind.

I clenched my fists, jaw tight as something bitter twisted in my chest. I didn’t know if it was grief or rage or just the bone-deep ache of abandonment

I stood at the broken edge of the palace, boots scuffing against cracked marble and loose rubble as I stared out across the courtyard.

Ash still hung in the air like ghostly remnants of the chaos that had just unfolded, and below... nothing. Just soldiers regrouping, healers moving between the wounded, and the distant rays of the sun shining everywhere.

But not him.

No trace of him. Not a flicker of red eyes in the shadows. Not even the scent of smoke and leather he used to carry.

He was gone again.

My fingers curled against the cold stone rail, frustration biting into my skin sharper than any blade had managed today.

"Who was that?"

!!?

The voice startled me, low and close. I turned, stiffening slightly, and found Drakkar making his way toward me.

His clothes were scuffed, dark with blood and soot, and there was a thin cut across his jaw—but his gaze was sharp. Focused.

He stopped beside me, not too close. Just near enough to let the question hang in the space between us.

I said nothing.

He stared at me, waiting. I met his eyes for a long moment and asked, quieter than I intended, "Are you finally over your anger?"

His brow furrowed slightly. "That’s not the question I asked."

I knew it wasn’t.

He jerked his chin toward the courtyard, toward where the nun’s remains still smoldered in the cracked stone. "That man you ran after. I saw you call him ’Dad.’"

My chest tightened.

He’d heard that?

Drakkar continued, his voice quieter now, laced with suspicion, "You’re an orphan, Ariston. Everyone knows that. You even said it yourself. So where did ’dad’ come from?"

I looked away, heart twisting.

What could I say?

That I’d been chasing a ghost my entire life? That the only reason I joined this war, the only reason I ever picked up a blade, was because of that man’s silhouette in my memory?

That I was still that abandoned child, staring out over smoke and fire, hoping for someone to come back?

My jaw clenched. "I don’t know what you heard."

"Don’t lie to me," Drakkar said quietly, but his tone held no real heat. Just something closer to... curiosity. Maybe even concern.

But I couldn’t give him the truth.

"I-" I let out a sigh, "He-" I didn’t know what to say

"What?"

I turned around to leave, "He’s just someone who took care of me when I was a kid..." My voice was low, "He isn’t my biological father..."

Just a man, the same kind as me.

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