The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 85: More Answers

Chapter 85: More Answers

>>Ariston

The air in the underground temple was thick—humid with sweat, rancid with desperation.

The glow of flickering torches lined the damp stone wall. The ground beneath my boots was uneven, covered in a mixture of dust and broken bottles.

I moved carefully through the shifting mass of demons, eyes scanning the crowd, searching—for anyone, anyone at all, who seemed to have their senses intact.

But all I saw were hungry eyes, trembling hands, fevered whispers murmuring prayers to something unseen.

Abyss worshippers. Slaves to the black milk.

Useless.

There was no point in looking at the crowd, so I looked around the balconies. We had entered a balcony too through the door which was on the second floor, while the crowd of demons were on the ground floor.

I kept walking till the point I spotted someone. Standing at the temple’s edge, near a cracked pillar, was a lion demon.

Unlike the other demons here, he didn’t look desperate. He was on the first floor, mostly hidden from the view and seemed to be observing the situation. I could tell he was here as a guard or something along the lines of that.

He simply stood there, arms crossed, his posture rigid. His long mane of golden fur cascaded over his shoulders, but his eyes—his eyes were fixed on the hooded figure in the center of the chamber. Watching. Waiting.

I exhaled. This one might know something. Weaving through the restless crowd, I made my way toward him.

The moment I approached, the lion demon’s ear twitched. His gaze flicked to me, sharp and assessing, though he remained unmoving.

I didn’t waste time.

"Where’s the master?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

A pause.

The lion demon’s brows pulled together in confusion, his amber eyes narrowing.

I knew that look.

He had no idea what I was talking about.

His lips parted slightly, and for a brief second, I thought he might actually respond. But then, as if deciding against it, he simply let his expression settle into something unreadable and turned his attention back to the center of the chamber.

Useless.

I sighed through my nose. He was the only one here who seemed like he had any grasp on reality, and yet, he was just as clueless.

Or perhaps—he was pretending to be. No, if he knew the master, he would have asked me something or shown some sort of interest.

I glanced around, taking in the temple once more. The demons below were still reaching for the spilled drops of black milk, lost in their hunger. I noticed the figure had removed her hood and paused when I saw who it was.

...

Oh damn... But I didn’t get to think much about it as Draegon collided with her and they began to fight.

!?!?

The place began to erupt into chaos and the lion demon in front of me panicked as well. I looked back at him as he was deciding what to do.

No one was watching me.

I stared at the demon, specifically his clothes. Black shirt and black leather pants. Typical clothes worn by mercenaries.

As he turned around to make a run for it. I didn’t hesitate.

My fingers tightened around the hilt of my dagger, and in one swift motion, I unsheathed it. The dim torchlight gleamed against the blade’s edge as I lunged forward, aiming straight for his vital points.

>>Aelin

The air trembled with the force of their battle.

Alishay and Draegon clashed above, wings beating furiously, the gusts of wind from their movement stirring the stagnant air of the temple. Their bodies were a blur of claws, fangs, and fury—one a storm of pure rage, the other an eerie, untouchable specter.

And below them—the demons watched.

I could hear them. Their whispers slithered through the crowd like a rising tide, their voices carrying past the crackling torches.

"That’s the princess."

"She died. Didn’t she?"

"But she’s alive again."

"Must be because of the black milk!"

"So it is all-powerful."

I felt something cold settle in my stomach. Their voices weren’t filled with fear. They weren’t even horrified.

They were awed. As if they were filled with admiration. As if her resurrection was a testament to their beliefs. As if dying and returning with that black corruption in her veins was something to be desired.

My hands curled into fists.

"This is wrong," I whispered, my throat tightening.

Drakkar was beside me, seething. His entire frame tensed, his claws twitching. He was barely holding himself back.

Then, with a furious snarl, he stepped forward, his wings unfurling.

"I’ve seen enough," he growled, his fangs bared. "I’m stopping this."

I grabbed his arm.

He turned on me instantly, his golden eyes flashing with anger, "Let go,"

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my comparatively small hands gripping the sleeve of his shirt in desperation.

"He’s out there trying to fight my sister who I just found out is alive." He was confused, I could tell, "I don’t know what drove Draegon to attack her, but I’m stopping him."

I held on tighter. "That woman can’t be Alishay."

His expression twisted. "Don’t be ridiculous! I know my own sister!"

"Then look closely." I pointed upward, forcing him to see what I saw.

Draegon was snarling, his claws tearing through Alishay’s arm.

And then—it happened.

She bled

And she bled black.

Thick, ink-like corruption seeped from her wound, oozing instead of dripping, coiling in the air like it had a will of its own.

Drakkar froze.

I could feel it—the way his body locked up, the way his wings slowly curled back into themselves. His breath turned ragged, his anger twisting into something raw.

Disbelief.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing. "What...?"

The next moment Draegon punched her so hard she went through the roof. The stones and debris began to fall down, making the demons below run for their lives.

Drakkar’s frown deepened, his wings shifting slightly as tension coiled through his frame. His gaze flickered to the place where Alishay had stood just moments ago, then back to me.

"Is she an abyss worshipper then?" His voice was quieter this time, as if he didn’t want to give the words power. As if saying them out loud would make them real. He turned to me fully now, golden eyes narrowing. "Like Ruoxy?"

A shiver crawled down my spine. The puzzle pieces had been scattered before us this whole time, but we had been too blind to see the full picture.

I exhaled sharply. "If we think about it..." My voice felt strained, my mind racing ahead. "Alishay’s maids... they were always so close to Ruoxy." The memory of them flashed in my mind—how they had stood by her side. "And when Ruoxy died, they said they would burn her body."

Drakkar’s jaw tightened. "But they never did."

His voice was grim now, like he had just realized something sickening.

I nodded, my chest tightening. But unlike Ruoxy who had black blood when we were in the palace. Alishay didn’t. When she was killed, all her blood was red. Everyone saw that

...

But maybe that whole thing was a ploy.

No, but the doctor came and confirmed her death. She was buried in front of so many people. Her death was announced publicly. So she did die... but someone came back to life... And is now an abyss worshipper

Before either of us could speak another word—a deafening crash split the air.

Our heads snapped up just in time to see Draegon and Alishay slam through the ceiling.

The moment their bodies crashed against the stone, the entire roof trembled. Large cracks spread out like jagged lightning, branching outward as if the temple itself had been waiting for the final blow to fall apart.

And then—it gave way.

The temple collapsed inward like a wounded beast.

Stone.

Debris.

Shattered rock broke apart and fell in massive chunks. Slabs of ancient ceiling plummeted toward the demons below, crashing into the ground with earth-shaking force.

And then—the screaming began.

The cultists let out shrieks of terror as they scattered like insects. Those who reacted quickly enough managed to flee into the tunnels, but others—the ones frozen in fear or too slow to move—were crushed beneath the weight of falling stone.

A heavy boulder crashed into the ground, shattering the floor. Dust and debris filled the air, making it difficult to see through the chaos.

Drakkar and I covered our eyes when the impact happened, but right then the door through which we all had entered opened. I was the first one to look back at the door and my heart skipped a beat in fear.

The witch was here. The same witch guarding the entrance.

I coughed, pulling my cloak over my mouth. Through the haze, I saw Drakkar standing still, staring up at the hole in the ceiling. His wings had furled tightly against his back, his expression unreadable.

"Drakkar!" I grabbed his arm, trying to snap him out of it. "We have to—"

She had entered without a sound, her presence as heavy as the crushing stone around us. She was tall, dressed in dark robes that moved like shifting shadows.

I barely had time to react before she moved.

She came straight for us.

I sucked in a sharp breath, stumbling back. Drakkar’s head snapped to her, and in an instant, his hesitation was gone. His wings snapped open, and he stepped in front of me

The witch didn’t hesitate.

Her robes swirled around her as she advanced, her presence oppressive, like she could swallow the air itself. She didn’t speak, didn’t hesitate—she simply reached for us.

Oh no!

She must have recognized me! Draegon used a magic stone to knock her out so we could pass by her since we didn’t have the answer to the riddle she stated,

I felt a surge of something cold grip my chest as right the next moment, her hand was on my face.