The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 87: Intervention

Chapter 87: Intervention

>>Draegon

Alishay hit the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of dust and shattered stone. Her limbs twitched, weak and sluggish, black blood seeping from the gaping wound in her chest. She gasped, trying to sit up, but I was already on her.

I slammed into her with all my weight, claws piercing through her flesh. My hand plunged deep into her chest, forcing her back down as her body jerked beneath me. Black ichor oozed out around my fingers, thick and unnatural, staining the cracked stone beneath her. The smell of rot and burning filled my nose, sickly and acrid.

She let out a breathless, pained gasp.

And then—

She smiled.

A slow, amused curve of her lips, blood dripping down her chin.

"What’s gotten you so mad, little brother?" she crooned, voice rasping but mocking.

I snarled. My claws twisted deeper into her flesh, feeling the unnatural sluggish thump-thump of her heart beneath my grip.

"You know exactly why," I growled. How dare she even ask me that after what she did to my wife and daughter.

Her laughter spilled from her lips, broken but unchanged. As if she felt no pain. As if this was nothing more than a game to her. That sound of her laughter scraped against my bones like rusted metal.

I had to shut her up.

My chest burned with fury. The heat coiled, swelling in my lungs, my throat, my mouth—flames curling behind my fangs, ready to consume her.

Alishay saw the shift in my stance. She realized what was about to happen.

Her crimson eyes widened just slightly before she began to thrash, trying to break free.

Too slow. Too weak.

I held her down, my wings flaring behind me. And then, with one brutal, merciless pull—

I ripped one of her hearts out.

The wet, sickening sound of flesh tearing apart echoed through the air. Her body convulsed beneath me, black blood gushing from the gaping hole in her chest. A sharp, gasping wail escaped her lips as her back arched in agony.

But she didn’t die.

She should have.

She should have been choking, gasping, screaming—dying. But even as her body shuddered violently, even as her remaining heart pounded like a frantic drum beneath her ribs, she still breathed.

Her limbs trembled, her skin turning ashen—but she didn’t break.

Because she wasn’t human anymore.

I gritted my teeth, tilting my head back, heat rising in my chest, the fire raging in my throat.

No more chances. No more mercy. She’s now a creature of abyss and I was going to burn her alive.

I opened my mouth to let the fire out. Alishay looked back at me with wide eyes as I started my attack. But before the flames came out, something slammed into me.

A massive force struck my side like a meteor.

The impact was so sudden, so violent, that my breath vanished, the fire in my throat bursting out in a ragged, uncontrolled explosion. Flames erupted into the sky in wild, twisting arcs, scorching the air instead of her.

I barely had time to process what had happened before I was ripped away from Alishay, the ground disappearing beneath me.

I was falling.

No—not falling.

Something had me.

The weight of it pressed down on my chest, my shoulders, my wings—holding me in place, forcing me backward. I let out a furious snarl, wings snapping open as I twisted, trying to see what had hit me. My claws lashed out, trying to grip something.

>>Aelin

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

One moment, Draegon was about to unleash his attack upon Alishay, his massive wings casting long shadows against the ground, his chest heaving with fury, flames coiling at the back of his throat.

And the next—

Queen Darcelle slammed into him.

It happened so fast. One second, he was ready to incinerate his sister, and the next, his flames went wild, shooting into the open sky instead, scorching nothing but air. His head jerked in shock, body thrown to the side, claws scraping against the broken stone beneath him as he stumbled from the unexpected impact.

For a breath, there was only dust—thick, blinding, curling around them both. Draegon’s snarl ripped through it, sharp and furious. He couldn’t see who had just struck him, but it didn’t matter. His instincts had already taken over.

He retaliated.

His claws lashed out, slicing through the air—aiming for whoever had dared to stop him.

But Darcelle was already moving.

She leaped back, the hem of her red silk robes whipping around her ankles, escaping his strike by a mere breath. His claws barely missed her, grazing the air where she had been just a heartbeat ago.

The dust settled.

Draegon’s wings flared wide as he regained his balance, his body tense, his lips curling back into a deadly snarl. And then—

He saw her.

His gaze locked onto the Queen, and his expression darkened.

"What," he growled, voice like distant thunder, "do you think you’re doing?"

Darcelle’s red eyes burned with the same fury, her breath coming in sharp, controlled inhales. "I should be asking you the same thing." But her voice faltered at the end—just slightly. Because at that moment, her gaze flickered past Draegon.

To Alishay.

To the black blood pooling from her chest.

Darcelle’s eyes widened. The color seemed to drain from her face as she took in the sight of her daughter—or what was left of her.

Alishay staggered, gripping her gaping wound, her red eyes half-lidded but still smiling as she dragged herself and sat up from the bloodstained stone. The thick, inky liquid dripped between her fingers, pooling onto the ground.

Darcelle stiffened.

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to speak, but no words came out.

She was staring at Alishay like she was seeing a ghost.

Draegon watched her. Expression unreadable, gaze flicking between mother and daughter before settling—cold and certain—on the Queen.

Then, voice low and unforgiving, he said:

"That’s right." His piercing gaze held hers, unrelenting, filled with a bitter truth. "That’s not your daughter."

Darcelle’s entire body froze. Her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her—shaken, disbelieving. "That... that can’t be true."

Darcelle’s eyes shook with disbelief. She ignored Draegon’s words—refused to acknowledge them—and instead ran toward Alishay.

"No—no,," she breathed, rushing forward with her silk robes billowing behind her. "You’re hurt,"

Alishay smirked, blood still leaking from the gaping wound in her chest. But she extended her hand toward her mother.

Darcelle grasped it.

She curled her fingers around Alishay’s slick, bloodied palm and pulled her up.

Alishay let her.

She rose to her full height, her golden eyes shining in the dim torchlight of the festival square, her blackened blood still spilling onto the stone beneath her feet.

Darcelle didn’t care.

She turned to Draegon, her face set in stone. "You will not harm my daughter."

Draegon stood unmoved.

"Move aside," he said, his voice a warning. His claws curled at his sides, his wings twitching in restrained fury. "I am going to kill her."

That’s when I heard the murmurs.

!?

I turned around to see that demon commoners had begun to gather around the edges of the broken square, watching—whispering. They stood at a distance, but their voices reached us.

"What’s happening?"

"The members of the royal family are fighting amongst themselves

"What?! Why?!"

"Is that Princess Alishay?"

"Didn’t she die? It’s only been a few days since her funeral was held."

Darcelle’s glare was unforgiving."I will never allow you to kill my only daughter."

Draegon’s hands tightened into fists. His jaw locked, his teeth grinding as he forced himself to stay still. His purple eyes burned into hers as he said, slow and deliberate:

"She is no longer your daughter."

Darcelle’s expression twisted. "I don’t believe you." She spat, "Why would I believe a word coming out of YOUR mouth."

She stepped in front of Alishay. A shield. A mother standing between her child and death.

"My mouth?" Draegon’s eyes darkened. "Do you not have eyes?" His lips curled, a sharp scoff leaving him. "You’ve always been unfair to me." Draegon took a step forward, voice low and unyielding. "Even now," he spat, "you defend the woman who killed my child."

The murmurs stopped.

"What?" Darcelle looked at him. A stunned silence settled over the square.

I felt my breath hitch as I stared at Draegon. Is he going to tell her about Asha? In front of everyone?

His glare stayed fixed on his step-mother, but his voice carried over the crowd.

"That’s right," he said, voice laced with venom. "Alishay is alive today because she used Asha, my unborn daughter, as a sacrifice. She ripped my child’s life and took it for herself." His eyes were full of anger.

Gasps echoed around us.

Drakkar and Ariston were horrified as well. They both looked at me but I couldn’t look back at any of them.

"Move," Draegon’s voice was heavy, "She-" He pointed at Alishay, "Doesn’t deserve to be alive."

The demon commoners froze. Some looked at Alishay in horror, while others murmured amongst themselves, uncertain, shaken.

Darcelle’s face paled. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Not at first, but she then said, "It can’t be." She gulped, "Everyone knows the human has a miscarriage."

"And who spread that word?" Draegon asked, "Who told everyone that my wife had a miscarriage?"

The Queen froze. The news was spread by Alishay too and everyone knew that. She gulped, but then she slowly turned—hesitant, as if fearing what she might see—toward Alishay.

"Alishay," She asked, her crimson eyes wavering, "Did you do it?"