The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 43: Some Answers

Chapter 43: Some Answers

>>Aelin

His arms encircled my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world, his hands resting casually but possessively on my hips. The faint, smug warmth of his breath tickled my neck as he leaned slightly closer.

!?!?

"Comfortable?" His deep voice rumbled softly in my ear, carrying an unmistakable hint of amusement.

Heat exploded across my face. "What—why—how—?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I couldn’t very well leave you lying unconscious on the floor," Draegon replied smoothly, as if his explanation was perfectly reasonable.

"You—you could’ve put me on a bench!" I hissed, squirming to get off him as I glanced at demons who were looking back at us with confused looks.

The moment I tried to rise, his grip tightened, effortlessly pulling me back onto his lap. "Careful," he murmured, his tone low and warning. "You’ve been through a lot. You’re not ready to stand."

I glared at him over my shoulder, mortification and frustration bubbling inside me. "I am perfectly capable of sitting anywhere else but here!"

"Why not here?," he asked almost innocently.

The hushed murmur of the throne room grew louder, and I suddenly became acutely aware of the dozens of eyes watching us. The demons, warriors, and nobles present were all pretending not to notice—but I could see the flickers of curiosity, the quick glances in our direction.

My cheeks burned hotter. "Draegon, everyone’s staring."

He leaned closer, his expressions serious, "Let them."

"No!" I whispered, "Let me go," I grabbed his hand and threw it off me

"Why?"

"Because this is embarrassing!" I got up from his lap and this time he didn’t stop me but I noticed the expression he wore on his face. It was like he was shocked and disappointed. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I quietly stepped away but stopped before going down the stairs.

Because the moment I looked at the people below, I wasn’t so confident anymore

Draegon looked down at the demons, "I saw the way you all treated my wife!" his voice boomed, his purple eyes scanning the crowd below.

I stood beside him, frozen in place, my palms clammy and my legs trembling. I couldn’t even think about what had just happened—me sitting on his lap, him declaring me his wife—because all I could feel now was the weight of hundreds of eyes boring into me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, heat rushing to my face. His wife? His wife? I couldn’t process it. He didn’t even glance at me as he spoke, his expression a mask of unyielding authority. But the words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

"Anyone who dares to harm her, disrespect her, or plot against her in my absence will answer to me."

The murmurs began almost immediately, spreading through the crowd like wildfire.

"His wife?!"

"But he didn’t even care about her!"

"He didn’t even ask about her for the two years he was gone!"

"Why now?"

"What does this mean for us?"

The panic was clear in their voices, the unease in their shifting stances. I felt exposed, like prey surrounded by predators. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, but it did little to steady me.

Draegon wasn’t done. His voice rose above the murmurs, silencing them once more. "And as for those who dared to harm her while I was away..."

I turned my head to look at him, startled by the sheer venom in his tone. His lips curved into a cruel smile, and the air around him seemed to darken.

"You will not be shown mercy."

The room grew colder—or maybe it was just me. I felt the blood drain from my face as the demons below me shifted uneasily, their whispers now frantic. I saw the panic in their eyes, the way they looked at each other as if searching for allies or preparing for judgment.

I stared at Draegon, astonished. He was standing up for me? Right? I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. So, he was under the spell, right?

And now it was over.

"Your Highness," a voice suddenly broke through the thick silence.

I turned toward the speaker, my breath catching in my throat. The advisor who stepped forward was... peculiar. His face was unmistakably that of an owl, with sharp, beady eyes that glinted like polished obsidian and a hooked beak that clicked faintly as he spoke. A monocle perched on one eye, and his body—though humanoid—was draped in a sharp black suit that only added to his unnerving presence.

"You’re sitting on the Queen’s throne," he stated, his voice clipped

I stiffened, glancing back at Draegon. He remained seated, utterly unbothered, leaning back as though he owned the throne, "And?" Draegon replied, "What of it?"

Before I could even process the owl demon’s words, the sharp, rhythmic clicking of heels echoed through the room. The sound cut through the murmurs like a whip, and the room fell deathly silent.

I felt my stomach drop as I turned toward the source. A figure strode into the throne room and everyone knew exactly who she was.

The Queen.

Her attire was sharp, almost militant—armor-like clothing that hugged her form, exuding power and authority. Her face was set in a mask of anger, and her eyes burned with an intensity that made me want to shrink away.

"Where do you think you’re sitting, Draegon?" she demanded, her voice cold and cutting as she came to a stop halfway down the carpet.

The tension in the room became suffocating. I looked at her and then at Draegon, who sat unmoving on the throne.

He didn’t rise.

He didn’t apologize.

He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he stared down at her, eyes unwavering, his posture relaxed but radiating power.

"Exactly where you shouldn’t be," He replied, making everyone’s eyes go wide in fear.

The Queen smirked at him but anyone with eyes could see how offended she was at his action and his words, "You think I don’t belong on the throne?"

"Not with the way you handled things for the past two years." He didn’t waste any time to reply. Queen Darcelle’s crimson gaze came onto me

!!!

I stiffened

"I didn’t do anything to your little plaything." She replied

Plaything?

The word stung, and I turned to look at Draegon, wanting to see what he’ll say

Draegon stood up from the throne, "I’ve seen very well what you did and what you didn’t do," He glared at her. I looked down, feeling a sting.

He didn’t correct her. A plaything? He just called me his wife though... Or does he think I’m like a toy wife- No, I shook my head.

Calm down

"Are you challenging my decisions?" Her words made everyone in the room go stiff

"I am," He replied, "And I’ll be the judge of the things you did and the things you ignored."

Draegon’s hand engulfed mine, firm and unyielding as he tugged me forward.

!?!?

I was surprised with how suddenly he took my hand and I struggled to keep up, my shoes clicking against the polished stone floor of the throne room. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I couldn’t help noticing the stifling silence behind us.

The Queen said nothing. No commands, no sharp retorts—nothing to stop Draegon as he led me down the stairs and out of the throne room.

But I could feel the weight of their stares. Hundreds of eyes, watching us as if we were a spectacle they couldn’t look away from. My cheeks burned under the scrutiny, and I kept my head low, focusing on his hand around mine.

The grand doors shut behind us with a heavy thud, and the quiet of the hallway felt deafening after the tension in the throne room. Draegon didn’t stop until we were several paces away, his boots echoing faintly in the long corridor.

When he finally came to a halt, I immediately pulled my hand from his grasp, clutching it tightly in my other hand as though it had been burned.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. When I glanced up at him, he was already turned toward me, his purple eyes searching mine. The intensity of his gaze made it impossible to look directly at him, so I stared at the floor instead, my heart hammering in my chest.

"So..." I began, my voice barely above a whisper. The words stuck in my throat, and I had to try again. "You were under a spell." I gulped, "Right?"

"Yes," he replied simply, his tone softer now.

His calm demeanor only unsettled me more. Silence stretched between us, heavy and awkward. I shifted on my feet, clutching my hand tighter.

"I fainted?" I asked, almost incredulously, glancing up at him through my lashes.

"Yes," he answered again, his voice steady but quieter than before.

Another silence followed, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Relief surged through me. It had all been fake—the wedding, the throne, Ruoxy. None of it had been real. He hadn’t chosen someone else.

But then, reality hit me like a crashing wave.

It had happened because he was under a spell but that doesn’t really define his feelings for me. What did that mean? What did he truly think of me?

I glanced at him, remembering how he’d shielded me, protected me in the dungeon—like he said he had promised.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips before a cold, dreadful memory sliced through my thoughts. My stomach dropped, and my eyes widened in panic as my heart seized because I was recalling what was happening in the dungeon

"I-" I didn’t realized I cut Draegon off

"Ariston!" I blurted, my voice rising in urgency. I grabbed Draegon’s arm, looking up at him with wide eyes. "What happened to Ariston!?"