The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 97: More Fears

Chapter 97: More Fears

>>Aelin

The chamber was quiet but for the sound of our breathing.

Draegon’s arm rested across my waist, heavy and warm, his hand splayed over my stomach as if he meant to anchor me there—beside him, with him. The sheets tangled around our bare legs, the scent of him still clinging to my skin. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, throwing shadows along the stone walls.

I stared up at the ceiling, one hand resting over my chest where my heart was still slowing. My body hummed with a soft ache, a kind of pleasure that still shimmered deep inside me.

This—this—had not been like before.

It hadn’t been like my first time—awkward, fast, something I’d endured. This had been slow, grounding, deliberate. I had never known my body could feel so known, so seen. Draegon had touched me like he wanted to understand me.

I turned to glance at him, his purple eyes half-lidded, his long lashes casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones. His chest rose and fell steadily beside me, the faintest smile playing at the corner of his lips.

But then it vanished.

He went still.

And I felt it—the shift.

"What is it?" I whispered, my voice soft in the dark.

He didn’t answer at first. Just ran a hand down my arm, then back up, as though trying to decide whether or not to pull me closer—or pull away.

"There’s something you need to know," he said finally.

The warmth I had curled into evaporated at the edge of his voice.

I sat up slightly, holding the sheet to my chest. "What?"

He propped himself on one elbow, eyes fixed on me now. "The human delegates will be arriving in four days."

I blinked. "Delegates?"

"To formally congratulate the new king and queen. It’s meant to be a gesture of goodwill."

Something in his gaze made my blood run cold.

"And?" I asked, heart beginning to pick up again—but for all the wrong reasons.

"Your father will be coming this time, instead of your brothers."

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I shook my head. "No. He wouldn’t. My—my father wouldn’t come here."

"He is," Draegon said. "What makes you say he wouldn’t?"

It was like the world shifted sideways.

My breath caught in my throat. My own heartbeat became a distant, drumming echo.I sank back against the pillows, the silk sheets suddenly feeling suffocating against my skin.

I hadn’t seen him since I was handed over to the demon realm. Since he signed the treaty—cold-eyed and silent—sending me off like I was a pawn in some game I never asked to play.

He hadn’t even looked at me when I was taken.

He was always cold to me. He ignored me when I was being bullied. He let all the abuse slide. He knew the things Reagen would do to me. The way Lisha would lock me in dark rooms.

He knew everything, but always ignored me.

Always.

"I don’t understand," I whispered. "Why would he come?"

"Because," Draegon said, voice harder now, "A cult of Abyss worshippers has been discovered in the human kingdom as well."

My head snapped toward him.

"What?"

"They found one of the marks," he said, his jaw tight. "A ritual site. Same signs. Same sacrificial symbols. A small gate opened up there as well but the knights managed to kill the monsters."

"Oh..."

"The felicitations are just an excuse. We need to sit down and find out who these people are. Why are they doing this? And where did they get the knowledge from."

"I see..." I knew full well that my father would never come to see me. And yet when I heard he would be here, along with all the fear came a flicker of hope that maybe he did hold something in his heart for me.

After all, it’s well known how much he loved mother and mother loved me very much. But then again, I was the cause of her death...

I stared at the ceiling again, blinking quickly. My throat burned. My chest ached. Not even the memory of Draegon’s hands on me could soothe the twisting inside me now.

"Something seems to be bothering you," Draegon said softly

!!!

I turned my head, startled. I hadn’t realized he was watching me. The firelight kissed the side of his face, casting his purple eyes in molten shadows. His brow was relaxed, his expression unreadable—but I could feel the concern beneath it, quiet and patient, like the way he touched me earlier.

His gaze held mine, and I had to look away.

I couldn’t tell him. Not this.

"..." I couldn’t answer.

He didn’t push. He didn’t sigh or argue or demand.

He simply turned onto his back, eyes still closed, and said, "I won’t force anything out of you... but if there’s ever something you need to say, you can trust me to help."

My chest tightened. I stayed lying on my side, staring at the sharp planes of his face lit by the flickering hearth.

Could I really trust him?

The question haunted me more than anything else.

He was my husband. My king. The demon I had feared once, then loathed, then tried to understand. But he didn’t know.

He didn’t know what I was before all of this.

He doesn’t know that the princess he had taken for a queen was nothing more than a shadow back in the human kingdom. That behind the palace walls of my youth, I had been mocked. Shoved. Spat on. They had whispered cruel things behind my back—but worse, sometimes, they said them to my face.

My father barely looked at me after my mother died, and no one stopped the abuse when my siblings yanked on my hair, pushed my face into food, stripped my dignity in ways that left no bruises but scars that still burned.

I couldn’t tell him that.

I couldn’t let him see how broken I really was.

Because what if he looked at me differently?

What if the fragile, growing affection I saw in his eyes shattered—disappeared—once he learned I wasn’t what he thought he had married? What if he realized I wasn’t strong? That I’d spent most of my life barely surviving in silence?

What if he decided I was too... small?

That the wife he had chosen, the queen of demons, had once been treated worse than a palace servant?

I squeezed my eyes shut and buried those thoughts. I didn’t want him to see me weak. I turned my face toward his shoulder and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest.

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t pushed. His words still echoed in my mind.

’You can trust me to help.’

I didn’t know if I could.

But some small, trembling part of me wanted to. He kept his promises, and he’s trying to keep going.

Maybe... Just maybe, I can say something to him.

"Would you still-" I was going to ask him if he would love me even after he knew I was abused but then I stopped mid-sentence.

A realization hit me

"Yes?" Draegon opened his eyes to see me, but I instantly turned around and laid with my face in the opposite direction to him

"Nothing," I replied as I pulled the sheet up to my face in fear.

How stupid!

I cursed at myself.

I can’t believe I almost blurted that out! I can’t believe I asked him if he would STILL love me!

A pained expression took over my face. An unbearable ache filled my chest.

He never said he loved me... We’re just a forced marriage couple trying to make things manageable...

I closed my eyes

What even made me think I could ask such a stupid thing?