Chapter 780: Fifteen Days of Calm and Tempest
The Soaring Dragon Kingdom delegation walked down the marble corridors of the imperial palace until boarding the mystical carriage that would take them back to their quarters in the capital. The night’s silence was only broken by the rhythmic trotting of the celestial beasts and the distant hum of the city that never slept.
Inside the vehicle, King Alaric broke the silence with a low laugh as he poured wine into four mystical crystal goblets.
"Ethan, I must admit that when you ruined the banquet by killing Garth, I thought we would have to fight our way out of the capital through blood and fire," said Alaric the king, handing a glass to Ethan and another to Isabella. "But challenging Vorian and snatching the von Draconia heiress right under the Emperor’s mandate... That was a masterstroke."
"It wasn’t a play, Your Majesty," Ethan answered, holding his glass calmly while his other hand remained intertwined with Isabella’s. "I simply did what had to be done."
Great General Vaelen, seated beside the monarch, kept his eyes locked on the road through the window before turning toward Ethan with a stern expression.
"Don’t get complacent, kid," warned Vaelen the great general. "The Emperor annulled the agreement and gave you his blessing because brute strength amuses him, but he hasn’t handed you anything for free. The Silver Dragon Kingdom cannot attack you openly now that the sovereign has spoken, but the Imperial Tournament is a bloodbath with no internal rules. They will seek to avenge this humiliation tenfold."
[That old general is right, Master], Crul chimed in within his mind. [The Silver Dragon King was practically spitting blood from rage. In the tournament, they will send their most ruthless young assassins to tear you apart before you even step into the semifinals.]
I know, Ethan replied internally. But those fifteen days aren’t just for them to prepare... they are for me to break my next major bottleneck.
Upon reaching their assigned residence, Alaric and Vaelen retired to their chambers to coordinate the delegation’s security. Ethan and Isabella walked together to the balcony of their quarters, where the night breeze caressed the silk curtains.
Isabella looked up at the golden moon crowning the imperial capital before leaning softly against Ethan’s chest.
"It still feels like a dream," said Isabella the young lady, her voice soft as she listened to Ethan’s steady pulse. "I thought my fate was sealed from the day that contract was signed."
Ethan wrapped his arm around her waist, gazing at the distant empire lights.
"Your fate was always yours, Isabella," said Ethan, pressing her gently against his chest. "And starting today, there will be no empire, king, or monster that will ever try to snatch what belongs to you again."
Isabella looked up to meet his eyes. Ethan observed her in silence for a second, feeling a sudden warmth creep up his cheeks as the full reality of what he had done finally settled in his mind.
"Listen... Isabella," Ethan began, scratching the back of his neck with a touch of bashfulness, completely breaking his unflappable warrior persona. "I’m sorry for being so impulsive back there. I proclaimed you my fiancée and asked for your hand before the entire imperial court without asking you in private first... I simply couldn’t stand the thought of that kingdom ever claiming another thread of your life."
Isabella let out a soft, melodious giggle that echoed like bells in the quiet night.
"Apologizing for saving me and claiming my heart before the entire world?" she answered, cupping Ethan’s face in her warm hands. "Ethan, that was the most beautiful moment of my entire life."
Ethan smiled, taking her hands to gently kiss the palm of each one.
"Then I want to do it right," he said in a deep, sweet voice, locking his eyes onto hers. "When this entire tournament ends and we return safely to our home, I want to give you a grand wedding. A wonderful celebration worthy of you, where there are no imperial pressures or threats of war... just you and me celebrating the beginning of our life together. Will you agree to wait for that day?"
Tears welled up in Isabella’s eyes once more, but this time they were born of pure, unadulterated happiness. She rose on tiptoe and joined her lips with his in a tender, lingering kiss filled with devotion, feeling all the scars of the past erase beneath the warmth of his promise.
"I would wait a thousand lifetimes if it means being by your side, Ethan," she whispered against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck never to let go.
Ethan gently took her arm to guide her down the corridor illuminated by mystic crystal lanterns toward her chambers. Isabella walked in silence, feeling her heart hammer wildly in her ears. As they neared the door, a wave of nervousness completely washed over her; she clutched her dress, imagining he would step into the room with her to spend the night together. The mere thought made her tremble with bashfulness and anticipation.
Upon reaching the threshold, Isabella slowly turned around, holding her breath as she waited for Ethan to make his next move.
However, Ethan stopped a meter short of the door. He maintained a respectful distance, gently took her hand, and brushed her knuckles with a warm kiss.
"Goodnight, Isabella," said Ethan with a refined smile. "Get some rest; I will be waiting for you for breakfast tomorrow."
A soft sigh of relief—blended with a hint of bewilderment—escaped Isabella’s lips. But just as the young lady relaxed her shoulders and prepared to turn around to enter her quarters, Ethan leaned forward with lightning speed.
Before she could react, Ethan gently bit her earlobe, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck as he delivered a warm, wicked whisper.
"However...", Ethan murmured in a low, husky voice that sent an electric shiver straight down her spine, "on our wedding day, you won’t even be able to walk for a week."
Isabella froze completely, her face burning in a fiery red that threatened to incinerate her on the spot. By the time she managed to react and turn around, Ethan was already walking away with his hands in his pockets, letting out a low, victorious chuckle as he vanished down the hall.
Isabella rushed into her room, slammed the door shut, and leaned her back against the wood, pressing her hands against her burning cheeks as she tried to catch her breath.