Chapter 54 Breakfast With Consequences
Bella
If embarrassment could kill, I’d be buried somewhere under the marble floor by now. Every time I blink, I see him again — half-asleep, half-dressed, and very aware that I was standing over his bed like a lovesick burglar. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to function this morning. Pretend it didn’t happen? Apologise? Fake amnesia? Maybe fling myself off a balcony and hope for reincarnation? Gilfred isn’t helpful. He’s perched on the vanity, blinking at me while I wrestle with my hair. “Don’t,” I warn him. “Don’t you dare judge me. You’ve never met a dragon with abs before.” He chirps once. Disapprovingly.
“Fine,” I mutter, throwing my hair into a loose braid. “I’ll just avoid him. Easy.”
Except nothing in this castle is easy, least of all avoiding a man who apparently has no concept of personal space or self-restraint. The smell of breakfast hits me before I even reach the dining hall — fresh bread, roasted meat, something sweet beneath it all. My stomach betrays me with an undignified growl. Maybe I can just sneak in, grab something, and sneak out before he—
“Good morning, Snowflake.”
I freeze in the doorway. Damien is already seated at the long table, sunlight cutting across his shoulders like he planned it that way. He’s dressed this time, thank the gods, though it’s still unfair how well a simple shirt fits him. He looks calm and composed, like last night never happened. Meanwhile, I’m one deep breath away from spontaneous combustion.
“Morning,” I manage, walking in as casually as someone on trial.
He gestures to the chair beside him. “Join me?”
Join me. Two words. No threat, no command. Somehow more dangerous than both. I hesitate, then sit because refusing would look guilty. Not that I am guilty. Nothing happened. I was just… inspecting his breathing pattern. Yes. Science.
He pours tea into two cups, sliding one toward me. His movements are infuriatingly precise. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock,” I lie. “You?”
“Eventually.”
The cup halts halfway to my lips. That one word carries too much implication. “Good,” I say quickly, because words are safer than silence. “Glad to hear it. You look… alive.”
He smiles faintly. “So do you.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” My voice jumps an octave. “Always a plus, not being dead.”
The corner of his mouth curves, slow and knowing. “Indeed.”
We lapse into silence, and it’s the worst kind; it's thick and charged. The clink of cutlery might as well be thunder. I stab a piece of fruit with unnecessary aggression.
He breaks it first. “You wandered the halls last night.” Right, straight to the point then, I guess.
I choke on my tea. “Excuse me?”
“You left your room,” he says evenly, like he’s talking about the weather. “The guards mentioned seeing you.”
“Right. Yes. I was… walking.”
“Walking,” he repeats, watching me too closely.
“Couldn’t sleep. Needed air.” I set the cup down a little too hard. “I tend to roam when I’m—well, restless.”
His gaze lingers a moment longer before he nods once. “Understandable.”
That’s it. No teasing, no smug remarks. Just understandable. It should be a relief, but it feels worse somehow. Like he’s holding back the exact thing I can’t stop thinking about.
I clear my throat. “So, what’s on your royal agenda today? Paperwork? Brooding? Turning into a dragon and terrifying the livestock?”
A hint of laughter flickers in his eyes. “None of the above. I thought perhaps we might eat breakfast in peace.”
“Right. Peace. Totally possible.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You seem… unsettled.”
“Me? No. Perfectly settled. The picture of serenity.”
He doesn’t believe me, obviously, but he lets it go. We eat in silence again, though I can feel him watching me between sips of tea. It’s not uncomfortable exactly. Just… intense.
Halfway through breakfast, I can’t take it anymore. “Okay, fine. You win.”
He sets down his cup. “Win what, exactly?”
“The staring contest. You’ve been doing it since I sat down. What is it? Do I have frosting on my face again?”
His smile tugs wider. “No. You’re simply… difficult to ignore.”
My brain short-circuits. “That’s—wow. Okay. Compliment accepted.”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” he says softly, but there’s warmth in his tone that betrays him.
My fork clatters against the plate. “Sure felt like one.”
He leans back in his chair, amusement flickering across his features. “You make this castle… unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable good or unpredictable bad?”
He pretends to think. “Both.”
That earns a genuine laugh from me, and his eyes soften at the sound. The tension between us eases, but not completely. There’s still that pulse beneath it all, the bond humming in quiet recognition.
When I finish eating, I wipe my hands on the napkin and glance toward the window. “It’s a nice day. What are the odds of getting outside without being chased by dragons or worshipped by villagers?”
He looks mildly affronted. “The odds have improved.”
“So… fifty-fifty?”
“Roughly.”
I grin, standing. “I’ll take those odds. I was thinking of visiting the gardens.”
“The royal ones or the dwarves’?” he asks, though I can tell he already knows the answer.
I shrug. “Depends on which has better gossip.”
His smile fades, just slightly, replaced by something quieter. “I’ll escort you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Of course he knows. He says it the same way every time — simple, calm, like he’s stating a law of nature. I should be used to it by now, but it still sends that warm ripple down my spine.
“Fine,” I sigh. “But if the dwarves start offering you breakfast, I’m taking credit for the social progress.”
As we walk through the halls, I steal a quick glance at him. The sunlight catches in his hair, and he looks almost… human like this. Less dragon king, more man. Still dangerous, but not untouchable. I catch myself staring and look away quickly.
He notices, of course. He always does. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Professional liar, thank you.”
He smiles faintly, and gods help me, it’s unfair how much that tiny expression affects me. The bond hums again, faint but certain, threading warmth through my chest that I pretend not to feel.
Maybe breakfast didn’t fix anything. Maybe it made everything worse. But as his hand brushes mine when he opens the garden door, I realise something I don’t dare say out loud —I don’t want distance. Not anymore... I've caught myself a dragon king, why shouldn't I enjoy him?