Dragon King's Harem Chapter 408. You’re Not a Prisoner II

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 408. You’re Not a Prisoner II

I stood as well, meeting her gaze head-on. “Yes,” I said firmly. “I do. And that’s why I’m here. Not to argue, not to fight. Just to talk. And if you don’t want to hear me out, I’ll leave.”

Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought she might tell me to get out. Instead, she huffed softly, a sound that was more exasperation than outright anger. “Talk, then,” she said, her voice quiet but sharp. “But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

I nodded, taking her words for what they were—a cautious allowance rather than an open invitation.

Pulling the chair back, I sat down again, settling into the seat with deliberate calmness. I wasn’t going to give her a reason to feel cornered. She didn’t return to her embroidery this time. Instead, her hands rested stiffly in her lap, her fingers twitching slightly as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. Her guarded expression didn’t falter, and I could feel her resentment in the air between us. It wasn’t malicious—it was wounded pride, licking its proverbial wounds.

I wasn’t here to dredge up the past or explain why she was in my palace. She already knew all of that. The loss of her tribe, her father’s choices, and her brother’s reckless actions—it was all etched into the space between us. Rehashing it wouldn’t help. So, I avoided it entirely.

“How have you been?” I asked softly, leaning forward slightly but keeping my tone casual, as though we were old friends catching up.

Her brows lifted slightly, the faintest trace of surprise flashing in her eyes before the guarded mask returned. “I’ve been fine,” she said curtly. “As fine as someone in my position can be.”

I nodded, accepting the jab without flinching. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. If there’s anything you need—anything you’re missing—you just have to say the word.”

She tilted her head, studying me as though trying to figure out my angle. “Is this why you came? To ask if I’ve been eating my meals and sleeping well?”

“No,” I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

She scoffed softly, shaking her head. “You’re trying too hard, Dragon King. It doesn’t suit you.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Maybe. But I’m not here to suit anyone. I just want to make sure you’re fine.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly, though her posture remained rigid. “You really think asking me how I’m doing changes anything? You think it erases what happened?”

I leaned back slightly, giving her space. “No,” I said honestly. “I know it doesn’t. And I’m not trying to erase anything. I can’t change the past. But I can make the future better. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

She didn’t reply right away, her dark eyes boring into mine like she was searching for something—weakness, lies, sincerity. I didn’t know if she found what she was looking for, but eventually, her gaze dropped to her lap. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know it’s not,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me or even trust me completely. I just want to talk.”

She hesitated but didn’t argue. That felt like a small victory. The tension in the room seemed to ease, if only slightly, and I decided to steer the conversation into safer waters.

“Your embroidery earlier,” I said, gesturing toward the hoop she’d been working on. “It’s beautiful. I didn’t know you were so skilled.” Yeah, I mentioned it twice since I didn't know what to say.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the fabric absentmindedly. “It’s something I was taught as a child. My mother believed every orc woman should know how to create something beautiful, even if the world only sees us as warriors.”

I nodded, sensing the pride in her voice. “She was right. That’s incredible work. The orc tribe’s symbol looks… alive, almost.”

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile before the guarded expression returned. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

My eyes bore to her for a few seconds before I extended my hand toward her spontaneously.

She froze, her gaze snapping to my outstretched hand as though it were a weapon. Her shoulders tensed, and I could see the conflict in her eyes. Part of her wanted to pull away, to reject the gesture outright. But she didn’t move, not immediately.

“I won’t do anything intimate unless you allow it,” I said softly, my tone firm but free of pressure. “I told you that before, and I meant it. I only needed that first time in the orc tribe. That was about politics. This isn’t.”

Her hesitation was palpable, the silence stretching between us. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she relaxed just enough for me to take her hand. I let my fingers rest lightly against hers, not wanting to push too far. Her skin was warm, her touch tentative.

“I…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to feel about you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” I replied honestly, meeting her gaze. “I know I hurt you. I know what I did cost you more than anyone else. And I can’t fix that overnight. All I can do is be here. Be honest. And hope, someday, you’ll see me as more than just the man who took your freedom.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around mine, a gesture so small it was almost imperceptible. But it was there.

“I don’t hate you,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly. “I thought I would. But I don’t. I just… don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” I said, gently squeezing her hand. “I’m not sure what I feel about you either. One moment, I was furious; the next, I understood your pain. You were once my enemy. We met on the battlefield. And now, suddenly, you’re here, in my palace, bearing the title of my wife. It’s strange, isn’t it?”