Chapter 68 Sunlight and Scandal
Bella
Damien exhales, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll rest today,” he says quietly. “Leave at dawn.”
Rest today, adventure tomorrow. Now that is something I can get on board with.
He glances toward the window. Sunlight filters through the glass, catching in his hair and making the edges of his expression gentler. “You should eat,” he says finally.
“Always with the orders,” I murmur, rising slowly. My legs ache, but they hold. “You realise you sound like a walking to-do list, right?”
His mouth twitches. “It’s called leadership.”
“It’s called bossy,” I shoot back.
“Effective,” he counters automatically, and the smallest smile tugs at my lips.
He’s impossible. Infuriatingly calm after the chaos of last night. My gaze drifts to the papers scattered across his desk—maps, notes, faint smudges of ink on his fingers. There’s something deeply human about seeing a king like this—shirt unbuttoned, hair slightly messy, eyes tired but alive. “Okay, breakfast,” I say, turning to straighten some of the paperwork.
His brow arches, and his lips twitch with amusement. “You can barely stand without wincing.”
“I’m not that bad,” I protest. “Just… aware of my thighs.”
That earns a quiet laugh from him. “Noted.” He pushes his chair back, stretching slightly. “I’ll clean up first. Try not to freeze anything in my absence.”
I grin faintly. “No promises.”
As he disappears into the adjoining room, I hear the sound of running water from the shower. My mind immediately betrays me, conjuring an image of him there—steam curling against his skin, water trailing down that scarred, impossible body, his hair dark and slicked back—
I exhale sharply. “Nope. Not doing this.”
You are definitely doing this, his dragon hums in my head, voice all smoke and smugness. You know, he wants to smell like you. Everywhere.
My entire body goes rigid. “Oh my gods—”
The sound of Damien choking on air filters faintly from the next room. “He did not just—”
“Oh, he did!” I call back, half-horror, half-laughing. “Your dragon needs a muzzle.”
You love it, the dragon purrs.
“I will evict you from my mind!”
You won’t, he replies lazily, clearly enjoying himself.
By the time Damien returns, his hair is damp and his patience nonexistent. “He’s unbearable,” he mutters, towel slung around his neck.
“You mean your other half?” I say sweetly, tugging the last lace on my dress tight. “He seems quite chatty this morning.”
Damien gives me a flat look. “You encourage him.”
“I do not.”
She does, the dragon interrupts smugly.
We both groan at the same time.
Once we’ve gathered ourselves, we leave his chambers together. The corridor outside is alive in a way I’ve never seen before. The air feels warmer. The castle hums. It’s subtle but unmistakable—the cold grip that once lingered over these walls has loosened.
Two servants pass us carrying linens, and instead of bowing with fear, they beam. “Your Majesties,” one says brightly, dipping her head.
I nearly trip. “Majesties?”
Damien’s smirk is immediate. “Marius, my advisor.”
The second servant grins, eyes alight. “He told everyone the truth, Your Majesty, that your bond broke the frost! The garden ponds are thawed, the windows are clear again, it’s like the world’s come back to life!”
I blink, caught between disbelief and warmth. “That’s… wonderful,” I manage.
“They’re celebrating already,” Damien says, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “By midday the kitchens will be overrun with honeycakes.”
“They really believe it?” I ask quietly.
“They don’t just believe it,” he says. “They feel it. Look around.”
And he’s right. The castle doesn’t look haunted anymore. It feels alive—laughing, breathing, thawing along with the rest of the world.
The castle’s great hall is unrecognisable. Light pours through the windows instead of dull grey, and the faint scent of baking bread fills the air. People are laughing and talking. The heavy silence that used to follow Damien wherever he went has been replaced by something I never thought I’d see here—hope. We take our seats at the long table, plates already waiting. I expect silence, awkwardness, maybe the lingering echo of everything we’ve been through. But instead, Gilfred chooses that exact moment to scuttle across the table and climb Damien’s sleeve.
I blink. “Traitor.”
Damien freezes mid-reach, looking cross-eyed at the creature perched smugly against his neck. “Apparently.”
Gilfred flicks his tongue, utterly unbothered.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “He's definitely taking a liking to you this morning.”
Breakfast itself is... comfortable. Easier than I expected. We talk about nothing important—the bread, the storm, how ridiculous Marius probably looked bursting into his chambers at dawn. Every so often, I catch Damien watching me. Not with that cold calculation I first met him with, but with something quieter and warmer. He looks... human, and that might be the most dangerous thing about him because gods above, it's beautiful on him. After the meal, we walk the grounds together. The snow that once smothered everything has receded into wet grass and puddles that shimmer under sunlight. The air smells of earth, not frost. People stop to wave, to thank us—me, mostly—and every time they say Your Majesty, it feels like hearing someone else’s name.
“Do they ever stop bowing?” I whisper.
“Not if they’re smart,” he murmurs, fighting a smile.
I elbow him lightly, earning a low chuckle. “I liked it better when you were terrifying.”
“I’m still terrifying.”
“Mm, you’re getting soft.”
The dragon hums with amusement. She likes you soft, but she really likes it when you're hard.
“I swear I’ll mute you,” Damien grumbles under his breath.
“You can’t mute him,” I say sweetly. “We’re a team now.”
“Gods help me,” he mutters.
We follow the path that winds toward the lower gardens, sunlight glinting off the damp stone. The last of the frost sparkles faintly on the grass like glitter, fading fast under the warmth. I’m too caught up watching the way everything looks alive again to notice the flash of blonde barreling toward us from across the field.
“Bella!”
The voice is unmistakable. Before I can even brace, Ashlyn launches herself into me at full speed, arms wrapping tight around my shoulders. “I knew it!” she squeals, grabbing my face between her hands before I can react. “When the whole bloody atmosphere felt like it was combusting last night, I just knew it!”
She spins my head to the side, gasping theatrically when she spots the shimmer of Damien’s mark at the curve of my neck. “You dirty minx!”
I choke on a laugh. “Ashlyn!”
Damien blinks, clearly unprepared for this whirlwind of sound and movement. “Do all your friends greet you like this?”
Ashlyn looks him up and down with a grin that’s both impressed and entirely unfiltered. “It's customary when your best friend gets railed by a dragon king.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again—probably for the best.
“I can’t believe it,” she continues, practically vibrating. “You bonded the Dragon King. Bella, you actually did it. You’ve melted an entire kingdom and a man in one night.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “It’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that,” she interrupts gleefully. “Don’t ruin this for me.”