The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 116: Bad Memories

Chapter 116: Bad Memories

>>Ariston (Present)

The stone beneath my boots was cracked and bloodstained, but I barely noticed anymore. The courtyard buzzed with murmurs and the shifting armor of soldiers. Yet my mind was elsewhere—still chasing shadows through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him again.

Drakkar’s voice broke through the hum. "That man... he was your kind?" He looked a little surprised, "There are more like you?"

I didn’t look at him. "He was the only one I ever met who was."

Drakkar’s silence pressed against my shoulders like weight. Then he spoke, quieter now. "That can’t be the only reason you’re looking for him."

I turned away.

His footsteps followed. "Ariston—"

"Leave it," I snapped.

But he reached for my arm, fingers curling tightly around my wrist. The contact burned, and I yanked free with more force than necessary.

"I’m looking for him," I growled, "because I need to know something."

"What?" He asked.

"I-" I paused, looking away. I touched the wrist he had grabbed with my other hand gently, "I want to know why he left me."

"..."

"One day, he disappeared. Just like that. No note. No goodbye. Nothing. I woke up and he was gone."

My voice had risen, sharp and raw.

Drakkar stood still, watching me with a tight jaw and clenched fists. I didn’t give him time to respond. I narrowed my eyes at him and added, "But that’s what people do, isn’t it? They abandon you. They go chase their own path and leave you in the ashes."

His expression cracked at that. "Don’t put me in the same box as him," Drakkar said, anger rippling beneath his tone. "On that note, that’s something you did. I never abandoned you. You were the one who vanished on me. You never came back. No word. You just... disappeared."

My breath caught in my throat, and for a second I faltered. But pride shoved itself forward again.

"That’s because," I said coldly, "you and I are clearly not a match."

The words hung between us, bitter and hot like venom.

Drakkar flinched, not visibly—but I saw it. In the way his eyes flickered. In the way his fingers twitched at his side. It was like I had left him speechless.

"What even-" He ran his hand through his hair, his sharp claws were still out. But he didn’t say anything after that, or more like he didn’t manage to.

Then silence.

I turned and walked off before I could take the words back.

***

>>Aelin

I sat on the cold marble floor, legs tucked beneath me, arms curled tightly around my chest as if they could hold my heart together—though I was sure it had already shattered. The room was too quiet. The kind of silence that screamed, that echoed through my bones and pulled me further into myself.

In front of me, the bed stood still and solemn, the sheets tucked neatly around the figure that lay motionless atop it. My mother’s body was covered with a white cloth, soft linen that looked too clean, too peaceful—too wrong. It was tucked around her form gently, lovingly, like she was only sleeping. But she wasn’t.

I could still make out the shape of her face beneath it—her high cheekbones, the curve of her lips that had once smiled just for me, now frozen in stillness. Her hands were folded over her chest, beneath the fabric. They used to be warm. They used to hold mine.

I reached forward, fingertips trembling, and touched the edge of the cloth. I didn’t pull it back. I couldn’t. I was too afraid of what it would mean, to see her face and know—really know—that she was gone.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and silent. I didn’t make a sound. I hadn’t made a sound in hours. The servants had left me alone at my request. They’d given me their pitying looks, their whispered condolences. But none of it mattered. Not now.

"Mama..." I choked out the word, voice raw from crying, throat sore from holding in the scream I wanted to let out. "Why did you go?"

I leaned my forehead against the edge of the bed. It felt cold. Everything did.

"You promised," I whispered. "You said you’d always be here."

A sob finally broke free. It wracked through me with such force I thought my ribs might crack under the weight of it.

I didn’t hear them come in. The tears in my eyes made the world a blur, and the grief in my chest muffled everything else. So when the door slammed open, I jumped. But before I could even lift my head, a sharp boot landed against my side, knocking me away from the bed like I was nothing but trash on the floor.

I gasped, the wind knocked out of me, my tiny hands scrambling on the marble to pull myself upright again.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Raya’s voice was venomous. Cold, sharp venom. I looked up to see her standing above me, face twisted in a fury that made her look like a stranger. Her dark eyes were wet—but not from sorrow.

From rage.

"I... I just wanted to say goodbye," I whispered, voice barely audible.

She didn’t care.

"You don’t get to cry," she hissed. "You don’t get to sit here like you’re mourning her. You killed her, Aelin!"

My stomach twisted so hard I thought I might throw up.

"I didn’t... I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know it would..." I tried, my voice breaking with every word, but Raya was already walking toward me, her hand raised.

Reagan caught up behind her and crossed his arms. He wasn’t yelling. That almost made it worse.

"You should’ve kept your mouth shut," he said coldly, eyes narrowing at me like I was a stain on the floor. "You ran your mouth and look what it got us."

I shook my head frantically, crawling back toward the bed—but Raya kicked me again, this time sending me to the other side of the room.

"She was already sick!" I cried out. "I didn’t know! I didn’t know it would make it worse!"

"You’re a liar," Raya spat. "You always want attention. You knew what you were doing when you took her out. You knew she was sick and you still did it!!"

"She didn’t even want to look at you in the end," Reagan added bitterly, eyes hard. "You were her greatest mistake."

The words hit harder than their boots ever could. My lips quivered as I looked at the shape beneath the white sheet, wishing she’d sit up, take me in her arms, say they were wrong.

But she didn’t move. She never would again.

"I’m sorry," I whispered. "I didn’t mean to, I thought... I thought going out, it would help..."

"It helped get her killed!" Raya screamed, her face inches from mine. "And now you want to cry like you’re some poor girl left behind?"

She grabbed the collar of my dress and shoved me back again. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me once more.

Reagan leaned down beside her, his eyes colder than ice. "You’ll never be one of us. You’re just a weak little mistake who ruins everything she touches."

"No..." I let out a meek voice

"Yes," He said, "It was your birth that made her weak. And you are the reason she is dead."

And then they turned their backs on me, walking out without another word.

I curled into myself, silent sobs wracking my body. The pain in my side was nothing compared to the ache tearing through my heart. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear.

But all I could do was lie there beside the cold bed, with the truth heavy on my chest.

They were right.

I had gotten her killed.

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