Chapter 103: Fake Marriage 2

Chapter 103: Fake Marriage 2 I was sharing a bed with Yumi, a habit that had become a strange, comforting anchor in the chaotic sea of my new life. She was fast asleep, her small body curled into a ball, her silvery-white hair a stark, beautiful contrast against the dark, silken sheets of the guest room. I woke her gently, my own heart a heavy, reluctant drum in my chest. "Yumi," I whispered, my voice a low, soft murmur in the pre-dawn quiet. "Time to wake up." Her crimson, illusion-wrought eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. "Ashy?" she mumbled, her voice a sleepy, contented purr. "I have to go somewhere today," I said, my voice a little rougher than I intended. "I don’t know how long it will take, but I’ll be back by the end of the day." Her glowing eyes, which had been so soft and sleepy, immediately clouded over with a profound, heart-wrenching disappointment. "But... you promised," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "You promised we would explore today." "I know," I said, my own voice a quiet, regretful murmur. "And we will. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to a wonderful spot, a place you’ve only ever dreamed of." Her expression shifted, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "A wonderful spot? Where?" "I’ve heard of a place, high in the mountains," I said, my voice a low, conspiratorial whisper as I painted a picture for her, a fragile, hopeful promise. "A place where the wild dragons nest. They say there’s an old dragon-tamer there who will let you ride on the back of a young drake. We can soar through the sky, Yumi, and see the whole of the Dragon Kingdom from above, a glittering jewel in a sea of fire and stone." Her eyes, which had been so full of a quiet, childish disappointment, now began to shine with a new, dawning excitement. "Really? We can really do that?" "I promise," I said, my own voice a quiet, unbreakable vow. "Now, you wait here. I’ll send someone to look after you for the day." I went out of the room, my own heart a little lighter now, only to find Christina standing in the drawing room, a silent, beautiful statue in the soft, pre-dawn light. She was dressed in a white wedding gown, a creation of such exquisite, ethereal beauty it seemed to have been woven from moonlight and sorrow. The dress was simple in its design, a cascade of shimmering, silvery-white silk that clung to her slender frame. Her silvery-white hair was woven with small, glowing moonpetal flowers, and a delicate, almost invisible veil of shimmering, enchanted mist covered her face. Her dragonkin heritage was subtle but undeniable—a faint, iridescent shimmer to her pale skin, like the nacre of a dragon’s pearl, and her eyes, the color of a summer sky, held a quiet, ancient sadness that seemed far too heavy for one so young. "Oh," she said, her voice a soft, startled whisper. "You’re awake." "I have to be," I replied, my own voice a low, grim murmur. "Today is the day where I either die a fool’s death, or become your hero." She looked at me then, her own eyes a mixture of fear and a dawning, unwilling hope. "Okay," I said, my own voice a brisk, professional thing as I pushed my own chaotic emotions aside. "Can you tell your mother to look after Yumi for the day? And tell her not to leave the house, no matter what. And as for your father... we will need him." "I’m scared," she whispered, her voice a fragile, trembling thing. "Scared of what might happen." Then, she added, her gaze fixed on me, a new, more practical fear in her eyes, "Do you even know how a dragonkin marriage is officially done?" "Yes," I said, my own voice a confident, reassuring murmur. "You don’t have to worry about that." From what I remembered from the original Ashen’s memories, their ritual was surprisingly simple. In front of witnesses, the two parties would declare themselves married, a binding, verbal contract that was sealed not with rings, but with... a kiss. A real, genuine, and very public kiss. I sighed, a long, weary sound. It feels awkward, I thought, a strange, unfamiliar heat rising in my own cheeks. Just then, the sound of many horses, of heavy, armored hooves on cobblestone, echoed from the street outside. Christina’s face paled. "It feels like the play has started." "You two, go," I said, my own voice a low, commanding whisper. "I will come to save you at the right time." Her expression was sad, but after hearing my words, a faint, hopeful smile touched her lips. "I am counting on you, Ashen." The guards, their armor the dark, menacing black of the Knight Commander’s personal retinue, took Christina and her father in a grand, imposing carriage. I waited, a silent, unseen observer in the shadows of a nearby alley. I had a plan, a desperate, reckless gambit to change the tides of this particular fate. I wouldn’t lose my life for a stupid, suicidal quest. I looked for my bike, its own form hidden in the shadows, and then I moved, a blur of motion as I made my way to a place I had only ever seen in the fragmented, chaotic memories of a life that was not my own. The Grand Altar of the Dragon’s Breath, the place where all royal weddings were held, was a breathtaking, open-air cathedral carved from the heart of a dormant volcano. The walls were a swirling, chaotic tapestry of polished obsidian and veins of pure, molten gold that seemed to pulse with a faint, inner light. The ceiling was the sky itself, a vast, open expanse of brilliant, fiery crimson. The guards at the entrance stopped me, their spears crossed, their faces a mask of grim, uncompromising authority. I again showed them the handkerchief, the small, silk token from their Queen. They welcomed me with a new, more profound reverence, and as I stepped foot inside, the sheer, breathtaking beauty of the place almost stole the breath from my lungs. The inside was a vast, circular chamber, its floor a mosaic of polished, semi-precious stones. A large, appreciative population of people, the highest of the high nobles, their own bodies a mixture of human and draconic features, their clothes a vibrant, chaotic tapestry of silks and jewels, filled the hall. They moved with the easy, arrogant grace of a people who had ruled the world for centuries. I gulped, my own carefully constructed confidence faltering for a moment in the face of such overwhelming power. Control, Kai, I told myself, my own voice a silent, steadying presence in the chaos of my own mind. Control. You’ve got this. Then, a hush fell over the crowd. A guard, his own voice a deep, resonant bass that was magically amplified to fill the entire chamber, announced, "All rise for Her Majesty, the Dragon Queen, Lilith." She entered, and the world itself seemed to hold its breath. She was a vision of fire and shadow, a creature of myth and legend. She was tall, impossibly so, her movements a fluid, predatory grace. She wore not a dress, but a suit of articulated, form-fitting armor forged from the scales of a red dragon, its surface shimmering with a faint, inner light. Her hair, the color of molten gold, was woven into a long, intricate braid that fell to her waist. And her eyes... her eyes were the color of a dying star, a deep, fiery crimson that seemed to hold the wisdom and the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes. She was not just a queen. She was a force of nature. And as she walked toward the grand, obsidian altar at the center of the chamber, her gaze, for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, met mine. And in her eyes, I saw not the cold, indifferent gaze of a monarch, but a flicker of something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. Recognition? Curiosity? Or something far, far more dangerous?