The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 77: Awful Memories

Chapter 77: Awful Memories

>>Aelin

I turned, horrified. "Uriel!"

Draegon exhaled slowly, dragging his gaze back up to my face. There was something unreadable in his expression, something restrained, but his purple eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t quite place.

"You..." He finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "You look... different."

I swallowed. "I—I know," I muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Uriel let out a satisfied hum. "Perfect. Now, off you go, Princess."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to run back into the room and change into something—anything—else.

But Draegon extended a hand toward me, his expression settling into something more neutral. "Let’s go," he said, as if nothing about this situation was unusual.

My heart pounded as I stepped forward, reluctantly taking his hand. His fingers curled around mine, firm and steady. I followed the movement

It made my heart flutter, the moment our skin touched, it was something like a buzz. Something I liked.

Even as we walked, I could feel his gaze lingering on me.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to stop looking... Or if I wanted him to keep staring but Draegon’s gaze had been on me the entire time.

I could feel it like a weight against my skin, lingering as we walked side by side down the cobbled path leading toward town. Even though he said nothing, I knew. Every time I shifted, every time my fingers twitched against my skirt, his eyes followed.

The worst part? Uriel knew exactly what she was doing when she put me in this dress.

I swallowed, forcing my attention ahead. The town was still some distance away. The early morning air was cool against my skin, and without thinking, I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling strangely exposed.

Why was he still staring?

I turned to him abruptly. "Why are we walking?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence between us. "Last time we flew."

Draegon’s gaze flicked up from where it had been resting—somewhere lower than my face. His expression didn’t change, but I didn’t miss the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides.

"Because anyone can recognize my wings," he answered smoothly, eyes locked onto mine now. "They’d know a royal demon was here immediately." That was the moment I noticed he had concealed his horns, his tail and his wings.

I blinked, thinking that over. That made sense. But... "Even if we’re walking, won’t people still recognize that I’m human?"

The moment the words left my mouth, Draegon reached into his coat.

I barely had time to react before he pulled something out. I watched curiously as he pulled something out—a thin, black headband adorned with two tiny horns.

I blinked. Wait... what is that?

Before I could ask, he lifted it over my head and gently placed it in my hair. The moment it settled, something shimmered around me, and I gasped as the headband vanished—leaving only the small horns visible.

!!?

I turned to him, eyes wide, but instead of explaining right away, Draegon studied my expression.

"It might not suit your taste," he finally said, voice calm but firm. "But it’s important as a disguise."

I reached up, fingertips brushing against the little horns. They were small and curved ever so slightly, different from his own—and.. much, much less intimidating. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest at the thought.

If I go back a few years, I might have been disgusted by this, but my feelings were entirely different now.

I had something similar to Draegon now, even if it was only an illusion.

A small smile crept onto my lips before I could stop it. "I like it," I admitted shyly, still touching them.

Draegon’s gaze softened, but he said nothing.

I turned my attention to the town up ahead, where more people were coming into view. It was getting busier now. My fingers brushed against the fabric of my dress, and I frowned slightly.

"I thought demons wore tighter clothes," I murmured, glancing at some of the noble ladies walking past. Their dresses were indeed shorter than what human women wore, but they still had some elegance to them. Unlike me, wearing a dress that hugged my curves, showed off my legs from the knees down, and—my cheeks heated—exposed way too much of my chest.

Draegon’s gaze flickered toward me again, but his voice remained as steady as ever. "Demons wear whatever they want, there are no restrictions for anyone."

Right. I had seen how the Demon Queen and Alishay dressed—tight shirts, leather pants that accentuated their strong, alluring figures. Meanwhile, the noble ladies and maids wore dresses, though they were far shorter and more form-fitting than what I was used to.

I hesitated, then glanced at Draegon.

...He had been staring for a while.

Does he... like this?

I quickly looked away before my thoughts could spiral any further. "Why did you suddenly decide to bring me to town?" I asked, changing the subject.

Draegon didn’t answer right away. Instead, his lips twitched ever so slightly. "You’ll see."

That was not reassuring. But when we finally entered town, I began to understand.

People were busy—working on stalls, setting up decorations, and arranging what looked like banners. Everything seemed almost complete, and I could hear laughter and chatter filling the air.

I turned to Draegon. "What is this?"

"A festival," he said simply. Then, after a pause he added, "For me."

!!!

OH!

The moment he said it, my heart fluttered with an unfamiliar kind of excitement. I turned back to the lively streets, taking in the sights, the sounds, the scents of delicious food wafting from vendor stalls. Colorful banners were being hung, and laughter echoed as people hurried to put up decorations.

A festival!!!

Something I had never experienced before.

A smile tugged at my lips, but it was hesitant. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to feel this way.

Back in the human kingdom, festivals were events I had only ever watched from afar. My family never took me. My brothers and sisters had managed to sneak out to attend, whispering excitedly about fireworks and music, about the dazzling lights and games played under the stars. But I had never been able to go, they would never let me.

I had tried once.

I had dressed up, thinking that maybe this time, I could join them. That if I waited near the entrance of the castle, someone—anyone—would let me come along.

But I had only stood there, while left without me through another secret exit.

A guard noticed me there and took me back in. Me being out alerted our father and he had my other siblings searched for. When they weren’t found in the palace, they got into deep trouble

It ended up making them hate me more.

They started isolating me even more... They were so angry at me that they locked me in the shed with the guard dogs. I cried the whole night because I was scared, but I wasn’t found until morning.

I clenched my hands at my sides, pushing away the painful memories. That was the past. It didn’t matter anymore.

Because now, I was here.

And tonight, I wouldn’t just watch a festival from afar. I would actually be in one.

I glanced at Draegon, my excitement bubbling up despite myself. "Will we be able to stay for the festival tonight?"

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "That was the plan."

The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, as if it was something obvious—made my chest tighten.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the overwhelming warmth spreading through me. But it was useless. The anticipation, the happiness—it was so much, so unfamiliar, and yet... I didn’t want it to stop.

Tonight, for the first time in my life, I would finally get to experience something I’ve only longed for.

***

>>Ariston

The sun sat high in the sky, golden and bright, casting dappled shadows across the orphanage courtyard. Birds chirped in the distance, their songs a cruel contrast to the sharp laughter ringing around me.

"Red-eyed freak!"

"Red-eyed freak!"

"Red-eyed freak!"

"Red-eyed freak!" The kids in the orphanage chanted while they surrounded me in a circle.

I stood frozen in place, my fingers curling into my shirt as a sickening splat echoed in my ears.

Something cold and slimy dripped down my cheek, its viscous weight sliding toward my jaw. The laughter intensified.

"Only demons have red eyes!" someone shrieked.

Another thud that made my body jolt.

An egg struck my shoulder, shattering instantly, the yolk seeping into the thin fabric of my tunic. The stench of raw egg filled the air, mixing with the heat of the afternoon sun. My stomach twisted. I clenched my teeth, trying to will myself to disappear.

But I couldn’t. I was here. Standing in the center of it all.

A third egg hit me square in the chest. I flinched but refused to raise my hands in defense. If I fought back, it would only make things worse.

"Maybe if we throw enough, he’ll turn into a demon for real!" another voice jeered.

"He already is one! Just look at his eyes!"

Laughter rang all around me, sharp and cruel, echoing through the walls of the orphanage.

I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t let myself cry. But I did want to...

Footsteps. Sharp and hurried.

"What’s going on here?" The jeers cut off instantly. Sister Margaret had arrived. The children scattered like frightened birds as she came running, their high-pitched excuses lost in the air as they disappeared into the orphanage halls.

Silence settled. Only the distant rustling of leaves remained.

"My God!" The sister came and stood in front of me, "These kids," She shook her head with her hands on her waist as she stood there in annoyance.

I let out a slow, shaking breath, but I still didn’t move. I could feel the yolk thick against my skin, sliding down my arms, my chest, dripping from my hair. The smell was unbearable.

"Ariston..." At the sound of my name, I finally looked up.

Sister Margaret stood a few steps away, her expression unreadable. I had expected frustration, disappointment, maybe even anger at the other children for bullying me again. But there was none of that.

Instead, she took a step back.

Something inside me twisted painfully.

"Sorry, Ariston," she said quickly, her voice thinner than before. "Why don’t you go and clean yourself up?"

The world around me seemed to narrow. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and nodded, turning away without another word. My feet carried me toward the orphanage doors, heavy and slow, my body still sticky with the remnants of their cruelty.

But just as I reached the entrance, her voice floated through the air, hushed but not low enough.

"What’s wrong?" I heard another voice, of sister Anna.

"Whenever I see his red eyes," Sister Margret said, "I remember the demons. I get the ick when I even get close to him." She shuddered, "Why would they bring him to our orphanage?"

I stopped.

The warm sunlight no longer felt comforting. The courtyard around me, empty now, felt colder than before. A lump sat heavy in my throat, but I swallowed it down, forcing my feet forward.

I didn’t turn back.

I didn’t cry.

I just kept walking.

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