Chapter 184: Concubine

Liona’s POV

The corridor felt like a tunnel cut out of ice.

Along the rough gray stone, heavy iron brackets held torches that popped and hissed, casting long, dark shadows that stretched across the floor like thin fingers.

I had walked this path so many times over the last few days that I knew exactly which flagstones were uneven, but tonight, every single step felt like I was dragging weights behind me.

A young maid walked past me from the opposite direction, her arms full of folded towels.

As our paths crossed, she quickly dropped her head, her chin tucking tightly against her chest as she bowed.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t look at her face. I didn’t ask for her name, because knowing a name meant making this place real.

It meant putting down roots in a castle where I was nothing but a bird in a cage, and I refused to let myself care about anything or anyone within these walls.

At the very end of the long hall sat my door.

It was made of thick, dark wood, heavy and carved with the same sharp, twisted patterns as every other door in this palace.

I reached out, pressed my palm against the cold iron handle, and pushed it open.

But my boots glued themselves to the floor.

The scent hit me first, a thick, sweet smell of heavy jasmine perfume that wasn’t mine.

Then, my eyes locked onto the large four-poster bed in the center of the room.

A woman was lying across the silk sheets.

She was half-naked, draped in a thin, purple slip of fabric that hid absolutely nothing.

Her long, black hair was messy, spilled all over my white pillows.

But it was the two small, dark horns poking out from her forehead that made me freeze.

A dragon.

She had her legs crossed, one foot swinging back and forth in a slow, lazy circle.

She looked at the room like she owned the stone beneath her and the roof above.

When the hinges groaned, her head snapped toward the door.

Her golden eyes narrowed into tight slits.

"Who are you?" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet air.

I didn’t move an inch from the doorway. I just kept my arms straight at my sides, my face completely blank.

The woman sat up slowly, the thin purple fabric sliding down her shoulder to reveal smooth, golden skin.

She leaned her weight onto her hands, glaring at me from the mattress.

"What are you doing here? Are you even supposed to be in this part of the castle?"

Her eyes traveled down my simple dress, my leather boots, and my tangled hair that I hadn’t brushed for days now.

Her top lip curled back in disgust, showing a hint of sharp white fangs.

"What is someone like you even doing in this kingdom?" she said, her voice dropping into a cold, mocking tone.

"You are not a dragon. You don’t belong here."

Something hot flared deep in my chest.

I had been holding my breath, my temper, and my tears together since the very day I was dragged to this place.

But right now, I was entirely exhausted. My stomach was hollow with hunger.

And more than anything, I was completely sick of unwanted surprises.

I stepped fully into the room. Reaching behind me, I grabbed the heavy edge of the door and slammed it shut.

The loud thud echoed off the walls, and the lock clicked into place.

"Your future Queen," I said.

My voice didn’t shake. It was completely flat, cold, and heavy as stone.

The dragon woman blinked. The lazy swing of her foot stopped instantly.

I took two steps closer to the bed, looking straight down at her.

"And if you do not leave this room right now," I murmured, my voice deadly quiet, "I will use you as my very first scapegoat."

Her mouth fell open.

She looked like she wanted to scream at me, but the words caught in her throat.

She closed her mouth, opened it again, and then just stared.

Her golden eyes darted over the sharp lines of my face, my clothes, and the straight, stiff way I stood.

She was trying to read me. She was trying to see if I was bluffing.

"I am going to confirm that myself," she said slowly.

She swung her legs out of the bed; her movements were no longer lazy or slow.

She snatched a thick velvet robe from the wooden footboard, shoving her arms through the sleeves and wrapping it tightly around her waist to cover herself. Then marched toward the door, her chin tilted high, but she couldn’t hide the way her hands trembled.

As she reached the doorway, she leaned her weight toward me.

"You’d better pray that what you said is true," she hissed.

She brushed past me, her shoulder slamming hard into mine as she went.

It was a rough, purposeful hit, a final piece of disrespect before she left.

The heavy oak door opened and banged shut behind her.

I stood perfectly still in the center of the quiet room.

The silence felt heavy, pressing against my ears. Slowly, I looked down at my hands. They were shaking so hard the skin was a blur.

I forced my palms flat against the sides of my thighs, pressing down with all my strength until the muscles stopped twitching.

Then, my gaze drifted to the bed. The sheets were completely rumpled, twisted into messy piles.

In the center of the white pillow, there was a deep, round indent where her head had just been resting.

A cold knot twisted in my stomach.

I didn’t want to touch the fabric. I didn’t want to sit on the mattress. I didn’t even want to be in this room at all.

Had she been here before tonight? Had she slept with the king in this exact bed while I was gone, before I was brought here?

I forced my eyes shut, cutting the thought off before it could go any further.

I don’t care. I repeated the words in my head, over and over.

I didn’t care what he did in the dark or whom he brought to his sheets.

This place was not my home.

He was just a mate that the moon Goddess had picked out for me, a mate I wasn’t even sure I wanted.

I didn’t even know his real name; I only knew the terrifying title everyone whispered in the corridors.

I walked away from the bed and went over to the tall, arched window.

There was a small wooden stool sitting near the ledge.

I sat down, pulling my knees tightly against my chest.

I leaned my spine against the freezing stone wall, letting the cold bite through my dress as I stared out into the pitch-black forest below.

The moon was high in the sky, a pale, icy circle that threw a weak, silver light over the tops of the trees.

I didn’t know how long I sat there like that. Minutes melted into hours.

Across the room, the orange light of the torches slowly grew dimmer as the wood burned down to ash. The long shadows on the floor shifted, growing wider and darker.

Then, the heavy latch of the door clicked.

The sound was quiet, but it felt like a crack of thunder in the silent room.

But I didn’t turn my head away from the glass.

"I have been looking for you, princess," his voice came from behind me.

It was soft. Remarkably gentle. It didn’t sound like the deep, booming voice he used when he spoke to his guards. "I did not know you were here."

I kept my eyes fixed on a distant, dark hill, refusing to look at his reflection in the window.

His heavy leather boots made a quiet, scraping sound against the stone floor as he crossed the room.

He stopped right next to the stool.

Slowly, the great Dragon King crouched down, lowering his massive frame until his face was perfectly level with mine.

Even in the casual, simpler black tunic he wore tonight away from his throne, his presence was overwhelming.

He didn’t wear his heavy ceremonial armor or his dark robes, but his striking, pure white hair caught the pale moonlight, falling softly around his sharp face.

The two curved, midnight-black horns slicing upward from his brow looked stark against his pale skin, casting sharp, jagged shadows against the wall.

Yet, despite his lethal appearance, his gray eyes were wide, soft, and full of a heavy concern that made my throat feel incredibly tight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

He reached a hand out slightly, his tattooed fingers twitching toward my knee before he dropped them back to his side.

"Is there anything you need?"

I slowly turned my head, my eyes meeting his for the very first time. I looked at the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark, complex markings tracing across his chest beneath his loosened collar, and the deep worry lines etched into his forehead.

Then, I looked away.

I snapped my gaze back to the window, watching the pale moon, the dark trees, anything that wasn’t his face.

"How many concubines do you have?" I asked.

My voice was completely flat, empty of any warmth.

The space beside me went dead and still. I could feel his gray eyes locked onto the side of my face, burning into my skin.

I kept my jaw tight, refusing to look back.

"Why would you ask me something like that?" he asked slowly, his tone turning cautious.

"I asked you a question," I said, my voice remaining flat and steady as I watched a cloud drift across the moon. "You are not answering me. How many concubines do you have?"

"Why does that matter right now?" he said, his voice dropping lower, almost pleading. "Those women... they are in the past, princess."

I snapped my head around, my eyes boring into his.

"Really? In the past?"

His gray eyes searched my face, trying to find a crack in my expression.

"One of your concubines was lying right there on my bed when I walked in," I said, my voice turning icy cold, each word sharp. "And you want me to sit here and believe that they are in the past?"

His face changed in an instant. The worry disappeared, replaced by pure confusion, and then his jaw hardened into a tight line.

"What do you mean?" he frowned, a low vibration shaking his chest. "No one would dare enter these quarters..."

"How many of them are in this palace right now?" I cut him off, my voice rising, echoing off the high stone ceiling. "As we speak? Under this same roof?"

He opened his mouth to answer, his lips parting, but no sound came out.

He closed it, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, ragged breath.

I turned my face back to the window, my shoulders dropping as a wave of pure exhaustion hit me.

"You know what? I do not care. I do not care about your concubines. I do not care about this palace. I do not care about you."

He flinched as if the words were a physical blow to his chest.

"Then what do you care about, princess?" he asked softly, his voice cracking just a bit.

"I just want to get away from here," I whispered, my eyes burning as I stared at the dark trees. "From you. From your entire world."

He didn’t stand up to show his height, nor did he get angry.

He just stayed there, crouched down beside my stool on the hard stone floor.

But slowly, he placed his large, calloused hand flat on the stone ledge right near mine.

He didn’t force his fingers against my skin.

He just kept his hand there, so close I could feel the radiating heat of his body warming my cold fingers.

"Calm down. Please," he said, his voice incredibly low, almost a whisper.

He tilted his head, trying hard to catch my eye, trying to force me to look into his gray gaze.

"I can explain," he said softly, his fingers twitching against the stone. "Those women... they truly are in the past. I have lived for so long, princess. I never once thought the gods would give me a mate. I never thought I would ever find someone like you."

I kept my eyes glued to the dark pine trees outside, refusing to let his soft words melt the ice I had built around my heart.

"Believe me when I say that those days are completely over," he murmured, leaning a fraction closer. "I would never do anything to hurt you."

"That is the thing," I said, my voice perfectly steady as I turned my head to look down at him.

His brows came together.

"What?"

"You do not want to hurt me," I said, looking straight into his wide eyes. "But all I want... is to stay away from you."

He went entirely rigid. The small movements of his shoulders stopped.

"I do not want this bond," I said, my voice dropping so low it was barely a breath in the quiet room. "I do not want you."

The silence that fell between us was heavy and crushing, like a physical weight pressing down on the room.

He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t speak. He just stayed there, crouched on the floor, his large hand still resting on the stone ledge right next to mine.

"Why?" he finally asked, his voice a rough rasp. He leaned closer to my knees.

"If there is something I am doing that you do not like... tell me," he pleaded, his gray eyes swimming with a desperate, raw light. "I will change it right now. If you do not like this room... I will give you another wing of the castle."

"If you want to leave these walls... I will find a house for you anywhere you wish. Anywhere in the kingdom."

He reached out his hand, his large, warm fingers sliding over mine.

I didn’t pull away. I just let him take it, feeling the immense strength in his palm that he was actively holding back just to hold my hand gently.

"Just tell me what you want," he whispered, his eyes begging me. "I will give it to you, princess."

I looked down at our hands. His dark, tanned fingers were wrapped completely around my smaller, pale ones.

He was so warm. So gentle.

"I would tell you what I want..." I said, lifting my chin to look directly into his tight face, "If it were that easy."

He frowned, his grip tightening just a tiny bit.

"Then tell me. What is it? Is there something I can do? Something I can help with?"

I slowly pulled my hand back, sliding my fingers out of his warm grasp until my hand was flat against my own chest.

"There is no way you can make a girl who is in love with someone else..." I said, each word falling heavy into the quiet space between us, "...stop loving him. And just accept you."

He froze. His entire body went completely stiff, the muscles in his jaw locking hard.

His gray eyes widened just a tiny fraction, just enough for me to see the sudden, sharp pain break through his gaze.

"The brown-haired boy?" he asked, his voice barely audible, scraping past his throat like dry leaves.

I did not answer him. I didn’t need to.

The heavy silence in the room gave him every single answer he dreaded.

He looked down at the dark stone floor, his jaw tightening until the bone showed white against his skin. His hands dropped heavily away from the ledge, falling limply to his sides.

Slowly, he stood up. He didn’t look down at me. He didn’t look at the window or the forest.

He just stared at the space on the wall across from him.

"If you do not want to stay here..." he said quietly, his voice completely hollow, empty of the power that usually filled it, "...I will tell the servants to change your room."

He turned around and walked toward the door, his steps heavy and slow.

He did not look back a single time.

The heavy oak door swung open, and then it closed behind him with a soft, final click.

I sat entirely alone on the stone window ledge.

I pressed my right hand tightly against my chest, feeling the wild, chaotic thumping of my heart against my ribs.

It was beating much too fast. I had told him the absolute truth. I had been completely honest with him.

That was exactly what I wanted from the very beginning, wasn’t it? To push him away? To make him leave?

Then why did I feel so terrible inside?

He hadn’t looked angry when he walked out that door. He hadn’t looked cold, or dangerous, or terrifying.

He had looked... completely broken.

The great Dragon King, who had entire nations bowing at his feet, who had never been denied a single thing in his entire life, had just walked away without even trying to fight.

I turned my face back to the glass, staring out into the endless, dark forest.

The moon was still hanging high in the sky, a pale, cold eye looking down at the world.

I didn’t know if I had just done the right thing or the most terrible thing of my life.

I only knew that I had never seen his face look like that before.

And the memory of his broken eyes scared me far more than his anger ever had.