Dragon King's Harem Chapter 444. Lonely Prince II

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 444. Lonely Prince II

Kaelen laughed so hard he fell over, his tiny boots kicking the air, the crunch of snow beneath him soft like powdered sugar.

Sela let out a cheerful giggle, sitting cross-legged beside him, her hands resting on her knees. Her breath puffed out in little clouds, drifting toward the pale sky that arched overhead like a dome of frosted glass.

The drake nearby shifted slightly—just a subtle breath—but didn’t move much more. It watched them, eyes half-lidded like it was too sleepy or too content to care what they were doing. Which suited Sela just fine.

She tilted her head and asked gently, “Sela wants to know something. Do you love your mother?”

Kaelen blinked up at her, some of the laughter still lingering in his face. He nodded immediately. “Mhm! I love Mama.”

He sat up, brushing snow off his coat clumsily. “But…”

Sela leaned in a little, curious. “But?”

Kaelen’s smile dimmed. His fingers curled into the fabric at his knees. “Sometimes when I see her cry, I feel sad too. I feel like… I am the source of her sadness.”

The words came out quiet, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should even be saying them out loud.

Sela’s chest tightened just a little.

Sela didn’t speak right away. Instead, she scooped a little snow into her palm, rolled it into a neat ball, and let it melt slowly against her glove. Then she said softly, “Sela doesn’t think that’s true. But Sela understands why little prince feels that way.”

Kaelen looked at her, puzzled.

“She’s your mother. And sometimes when mothers look sad, little ones think it’s their fault. But sadness isn’t always caused by the people we love. Sometimes it’s caused by things they can’t control. Things they carry inside.”

Kaelen didn’t really reply. Just looked down.

Sela decided to try something else.

“And how about your father? The late king?”

Kaelen was quiet a moment. “Papa too… I love him but…” he trailed off, brows knitting together like he was working through a puzzle he couldn’t quite finish.

Sela tilted her head, gently encouraging. “But what, little prince?”

He fidgeted a bit, pulling his legs up close. “I feel like… something?” He looked frustrated. “I don’t know how to say it.”

Sela’s voice remained soft, curious. “Like guilty?”

Kaelen blinked at her, wide-eyed. “What’s guilty?”

Sela tapped her chin. “Hmm… It’s when someone feels really bad about something they did. Or something they didn’t do. Even if no one else blames them.”

Kaelen’s gaze drifted to the drake. His voice was even softer now. “I heard Papa say sorry to Uncle Curtis once. A long time ago. Mama didn’t hear. But I did. Papa said sorry… Is that guilty?”

Sela’s heart squeezed.

Her smile turned a bit sad. “Maybe. But Sela doesn’t really know the full story. Sela is new here, remember? So it’s just a guess.”

Kaelen looked down, rubbing a line in the snow with his glove. “Is that why Papa died?”

Sela’s throat tightened. Too deep. She’d gone too deep.

She placed a hand on his arm gently, her fingers light and warm. “No, no. Sela doesn’t think that’s why. Sometimes people leave even when we don’t understand why. But it’s never because of one single thing. It’s a lot of things.”

He nodded slowly, accepting that answer, even if he didn’t fully understand.

Sela let the silence sit between them a moment. The wind rustled faintly, slipping past the arches of the yard like a whisper of something ancient. Somewhere behind them, a soldier shifted on his feet, armor giving a soft clink. But no one approached.

She turned to him again. “Do you like your uncle?”

Kaelen perked up at that and nodded. “Yeah.”

Sela asked gently, “Why?”

Kaelen tilted his head and thought. “He’s nice to me. He always comes when I call him. He picks me up when I fall. He reads stories. He smiles at Mama. He…”

He paused.

Sela watched him closely. “He what?”

“He’s always around. Even when Papa was still here.”

Sela blinked. “Before Papa left?”

Kaelen nodded slowly. “Yeah. They used to talk a lot. Sometimes they’d argue but not loud. Then they’d be quiet for days. And then… Papa left.”

Sela didn’t press. Just let the silence stretch again.

Kaelen fidgeted again. “Do you think he’s bad?”

Sela’s voice was firm but kind. “Sela thinks grown-ups are complicated. They do good things and sometimes they do not-good things too. That doesn’t mean they’re all bad.”

He leaned against her again. Smaller than he probably wanted to be. Softer than people probably expected from a future king.

They sat like that a little longer—two small figures in a world far too big, beside a beast far too ancient, under a sky far too quiet. But in that moment, everything felt still. Safe.

And for Sela, whose life had always been a mix of exile and crystal dust and quiet battlefields, it felt strangely… warm. Even in a place made of snow.

“But it’s all in the past, right?” Kaelen said suddenly, voice bright with something innocent. “I’m happy now! And I bet Mama will be happy too.”

Sela blinked, slowly turning her head.

“Uncle Curtis will marry Mama,” Kaelen continued, twirling a stick he’d found in the snow like a sword. “He will become my papa! Isn’t that a good thing?”

The drake shifted again nearby, a soft sound rumbling through its throat—almost like a sigh. Sela wasn’t sure if it was reacting to Kaelen’s words or simply stretching, but the timing felt too… timed.

Kaelen’s eyes sparkled. “I heard from him once that Uncle was the one who saved Mama when she was a princess. Isn’t that cool? He saved her from bad people. So now I get a new papa, and Mama will be happy. Isn’t that great?”

Sela forced a smile. “Yeah… sounds nice.”

Her voice didn’t crack, but her chest did.

It tightened painfully under the surface, like someone had carved a crystal shard straight into her ribs.

Because Sela had come here to stop that very thing.

To stop this wedding. To unravel this happy picture the boy painted so innocently with his words. Because it was fake. An illusion held together by manipulation and secrets and a rune embedded in the boy’s body like a curse ready to detonate.