The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 37: Black Blood

Chapter 37: Black Blood

>>Aelin

A sickening sound—flesh tearing, a wet, grotesque rip—echoed through the throne room.

Ruoxy screamed, the sound piercing, primal. Blood sprayed as Draegon’s claws tore a strip of skin from her cheek, down to her jawline.

"No! Stop!" Ruoxy screamed as she clutched her face, her fingers trying desperately to hold the ragged edges of her torn skin together. Her shrieks turned into wild, incoherent cries as more skin began to peel away.

We all were mortified of what was happening right in front of us.

She swung wildly at Draegon, clawing at him, but he caught her arm with a sneer. "You’ll never fool anyone again," he spat, his claws digging into her wrist as he pulled her closer.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

"Restrain him!" The queen’s shouts for order were drowned out by Ruoxy’s cries.

"Let me go!" Ruoxy howled, trying to wrench herself free, but Draegon’s claws tore into her again, peeling away more of her skin like paper. Beneath the gory mess, something black and unnatural gleamed.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

Her blood wasn’t red. My heart pounded as I stared at her wide eyed. It was black.

Ruoxy shrieked, her nails slashing at Draegon’s arm in desperation, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he ripped another chunk of her skin away, revealing more of the black ichor beneath.

That’s when Ariston moved.

Even with his hands still bound, he jumped up, crouching midair as he brought his hands in front of him through under him. Then as he landed, he threw himself into the chaos, tackling the guard standing next to him with brute force.

!!

The guard yelped as Ariston sent him sprawling to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Ariston grabbed the sword hanging from the guard’s belt, gripping it with both hands despite his shackles.

"Ariston!" I gasped, but he didn’t even look at me.

Ruoxy, still trying to fend off Draegon, didn’t notice Ariston until it was too late. He moved with deadly precision, the sword arcing through the air in a clean, decisive strike.

The blade cut through her chest from behind, the force of the blow sending her staggering forward. Ruoxy screamed again, this time a guttural, inhuman sound that reverberated through the room. Black blood gushed from the wound, staining the pristine floor beneath her feet.

For a moment, everything was silent except for Ruoxy’s ragged breathing. She clutched at her chest, her hands slick with the black liquid. She stumbled, her movements frantic as she tried to hold her disintegrating skin together.

"What are you doing?!" Drakkar’s voice boomed across the throne room as he stormed in, his face a mask of fury and disbelief.

Draegon turned to face his brother, his claws still dripping with Ruoxy’s blood. "What I should have done long ago," Draegon said, his tone ice-cold. He pointed a clawed finger at Ruoxy. "That is not a person."

Drakkar’s gaze shifted to Ruoxy, who was now trembling and trying to turn her back to the room, desperate to hide the black blood that continued to pour from her chest and face. "Explain yourself," Drakkar demanded, his tone sharp.

"She killed Alishay," Draegon’s confession made everything go silent for a moment and all eyes were on him, "Don’t look at me." He ordered, "Look at her." He turned his head to look at Ruoxy and every single person did the same.

Drakkar’s sharp eyes flicked back to Ruoxy, narrowing as he saw her trembling form. Her hands shook as she tried to press the torn edges of her skin back into place.

"You," Drakkar growled as he stepped toward Ruoxy, his golden eyes blazing with wrath. "It was you!!"

Ruoxy’s trembling turned to a strange stillness, her gaze darting between the enraged Drakkar, the blood-soaked Draegon, and the unmoving Ariston, who stood protectively near me with his sword still drawn. She realized what we all knew

She couldn’t escape from this.

But then, something shifted in her eyes. A gleam of cunning replaced the fear, and her lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

!!

It sent shivers down my spine as she passed us a toothy smile, blood had colored her teeth black.

Before anyone could move, darkness surged around her, spilling out from her body like an unholy tide. It poured across the room, an unnatural, suffocating shadow that devoured the light in an instant.

"Stop her!" Drakkar bellowed, but the darkness enveloped us all.

I staggered back, blinded and choking on the heavy, acrid air.

What the hell was this?!?!

All around, I heard the chaos of demons shouting, weapons clanging, and bodies stumbling into one another.

"She’s using some strange dark magic!" someone yelled.

"Don’t let her escape!" Draegon’s voice cut through the confusion,

I don’t know if I could do anything about it but I had this strong feeling I could. And I used my magic. The light ball from my hands shot up, devouring all the darkness. And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the darkness began to thin. The faint glow of the throne room’s enchanted lights returned, flickering weakly at first before burning steadily.

"There!" Draegon pointed at the exit from where Ruoxy was running out, "Don’t just stand there! After her!" He roared, already breaking into a sprint. He tore through the throne room, shoving aside anyone in his way.

Ariston was right behind him, his shackled wrists still bound but his grip on the stolen sword unyielding. The guards snapped to action, scrambling after Draegon and Ariston. The sound of boots and claws echoed through the grand hall as the mob surged toward the exits.

I stood frozen for a moment, my heart hammering. The throne room was in disarray, demons murmuring and shouting in equal measure, but all I could focus on was the image of Ruoxy—her smirk, her black blood, her peeling skin.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I moved toward the exit as well. My legs felt heavy, but something told me I couldn’t let Ruoxy escape.

By the time I reached the main hall, Draegon and Ariston were already far ahead, their figures disappearing into the sprawling palace corridors.

The palace corridors echoed with the sound of hurried footsteps and panicked voices and I ran too.

It was a fair bit of running after which I slowed down before the group came to a halt, gathered around something in the distance. Thrashing sounds filled the air, sharp and metallic, like iron being torn apart.

What is happening in the front?

I shoved my way through the crowd, pushing past demons, squeezing through until I reached the front.

There they were—Draegon and Drakkar, their claws gleaming in the faint torchlight, tearing into a massive iron door.

Woah!! It was terrifying to look at, The metal groaned under their strength, warped and dented, but still stubbornly holding its ground. Draegon’s face was a mask of fury, his violet eyes blazing, while Drakkar worked silently beside him, their big frames moving in sync

"She blocked the way as she went down," Ariston’s voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to see him standing just beside me.

"What’s in there?" I asked, my breath coming in short gasps.

He looked at me, then back to the door. "The basement. It leads to the dungeon."

I swallowed hard, my stomach churning but bfore I could ask anything more, the sound of metal ripping apart drew my attention back to the brothers. With one final, devastating strike, the iron door gave way, its locks snapping with a deafening clang. The crowd recoiled slightly, gasping as the heavy door swung open.

Draegon didn’t hesitate. He bolted forward, his claws still at the ready. Drakkar followed close behind, his eyes scanning the dark stairway ahead.

"Stay with me," Ariston said firmly, gripping my arm as he moved. I noticed he had broken out of the handcuffs. This time, he didn’t leave me behind. Together, we followed them, spiraling down the narrow staircase.

The further we went, the colder and darker it became. The air turned heavy, damp with an unmistakable stench that only grew stronger with every step. My nose wrinkled, and my stomach turned.

"What is that smell?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ariston’s expression hardened, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "I can’t be sure, but,"

"But?"

"It’s a scent very similar to what I smelt at the battlefield." He glanced at me, "Of death."

!!!

I looked ahead, my skin standing up in fear.

We descended further, the torches lining the walls growing sparse. The smell of decay thickened, curling into my lungs, making it harder to breathe.

But nothing could prepare us for what was waiting at the end. By the time we reached the bottom, the sight that awaited us left me frozen in place.

The dungeon was vast, its stone walls coated in filth and blood. But it wasn’t the walls that caught my attention—it was the figures within.

Seven people were scattered throughout the room, slumped into grotesque, unnatural positions. Their skin hung from their bodies in ragged patches, rotting and peeling, revealing raw flesh and bone underneath. Their eyes were empty, their faces twisted in silent agony. They sat in circles drawn onto the ground from blood in a semi-circular alignment.

Behind them, etched onto the stone wall, was a massive symbol—a crude drawing of an eye, painted in blood that was spilling downwards as if it was paint

It was a traumatic sight.

At the center of it all stood Ruoxy.

She turned to face us, her laughter cutting through the suffocating silence. Her skin hung in shreds from her face and arms, sliding off in chunks as she moved, but she didn’t seem to care. If anything, the sight seemed to amuse her.

"You’re too late," she said,