Chapter 22
Akelans was finally pleased with how Hasollan looked today. For once, she wore clothes that suited her status—rich fabric that flowed elegantly and wrapped her warmly. Of course, she could’ve gone with something more glamorous, but compared to her usual stubborn choice of plain clothes, this was a huge improvement.
Unfortunately, that was about the only thing he liked today.
He especially didn’t like how she cried when she saw him.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said coldly, “but I don’t die that easily. And I have no intention of dying.”
But Hasollan hadn’t been hoping for his death.
“It’s cold. Get up,” he said.
He reached out his hand but stopped when he noticed blood staining his black glove. With a frown, he pulled it off and tossed it aside, then used his bare hand to help her up. His hand was strong, while hers felt cold and fragile.
“You make me angry,” he muttered.
She could say the same about him. And yet, when he returned safely, Hasollan had felt relieved—and that realization shocked her. Oh no, she thought. I’m falling into the same trap again.
“But I don’t care about things like that anymore,” he added quietly.
Fourteen years of this, and they hadn’t moved a single step forward. She still had him in her heart. She bit her lip hard. This isn’t love, she told herself. It’s just a leftover attachment. Resentment, maybe. A sense of injustice.
“You can keep making me angry. You can even keep running away if you want.”
He smiled bitterly but didn’t let go of her hand.
“I won’t stop you.”
No. You should care, she thought, glaring at him with resentment. She didn’t want to see that cold smile—she wanted him hurt, shocked, broken like she had been. She was filled with bitterness, and she was sure now: this is not love.
“Your place is by my side,” he said simply.
Any love they once had was worn down long ago. What remained was only a sense of familiarity, built through countless shared days.
“And my place is yours.”
He should’ve said that a long time ago. Akelans’ expression wavered for a moment. It’s such a simple thing to say—why didn’t I say it sooner? Despite all his wisdom, he felt like the most foolish dragon alive.
“So you wanted me dead… how bold of you,” he said, half-amused.
“You’re kind of cute when you’re gutsy like that.”
“Let’s go.”
“His Grace has returned!”
Guards and knights rushed around as the gates of the fortress swung shut behind Akelans’ black horse.
“Next time you want to go out, call me,” he told her.
Hasollan glanced at Sir Gidmong instinctively. Can’t I just take the guard you assigned me?
“I said to myself. Call me.” Akelans was visibly annoyed.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want. Except that damned yarn shop.”
And not to Soruk either. The huge tiger quietly padded alongside Hasollan. Like a proper escort, it guided her down the stairs.
“Then I’m unemployed…” she mumbled.
Akelans, with his sharp hearing, turned to her in disbelief.
“You’ve still got the money from selling those jewels, don’t you?”
Ah, he knew. Hasollan looked away awkwardly.
“Do you want a job? Or are you just saving up again to run away?”
“Both.”
Akelans couldn’t help but laugh. Even now, she answered honestly.
“So you’re not even going to say you won’t run?”
She didn’t answer. She just stared at him, black eyes burning with defiance.
“Didn’t think so,” he muttered and continued down the stairs.
Honestly, Hasollan didn’t plan to run away again—at least not right now. She was too realistic to attempt something she knew would fail. She was just annoyed that he kept getting in the way of everything she wanted to do.
“You already have a job. Lady of Roetingen Castle. Don’t tell me you’re upset because you’re not the Empress?”
She stared at him, horrified. Is he saying this out loud in public?
“Who said I was the lady?”
“You.”
She yanked her hand away, her face full of frustration.
“You’re making me sound like a married woman—we’re not even married!”
Akelans, still dressed like a nightmare, laughed like a boy.
“We can fix that.”
“No thanks!”
“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down.”
“Then pay me if you’re going to make me work.”
“I don’t plan to make you work.”
She looked up at him, puzzled.
“Just stay here. It’s not like the lady of the castle has a lot to do anyway.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
She was very clear.
“You think running a castle that size is easy? There’s a lot to do.”
“I still don’t expect you to do anything.”
“So I should be the lady but not do anything?”
“Exactly.”
Then he picked her up and placed her on a white horse that Sir Gidmong had brought over. The gentle horse stood still as if recognizing its true owner.
“Then just pay me.”
Sir Gidmong looked horrified. What is this lady even saying?
“I’ll take care of everything. Just pay me.”
“So you’ll stop going to the yarn shop? Fine. I’m hiring you.”
Akelans agreed quickly. Honestly, it sounded like a good deal to him.
“I’m good at what I do. And expensive.”
Hasollan was determined. If she was going to stay, she’d at least get paid for it.
“You think I don’t know?”
“You didn’t know a thing.”
Unbelievable. She muttered under her breath and grabbed the reins. It was almost comical how this terrifying dragon didn’t scare her at all.
“Send a pursuit team northeast—40 miles. That’s where they were crawling in from. Clean it up, get whatever you can, and burn the rest.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Akelans looked completely unfazed, even after a whole night of fighting. He was terrifyingly dragon-like.
“Let’s go.”
The next morning, after a black dragon appeared in the sea near Roetingen, the townspeople saw a terrifying figure covered in blood—walking beside a woman in white. The sight left them breathless. When word spread that Akelans’ pursuit team had wiped out multiple bandit camps, morale soared.
Everyone in Roetingen understood one thing now:
The true Emperor has come—with his mate.
And the one sitting on the throne in Impel?
He was not the rightful emperor.
Meanwhile, in Impel
The rules to become Emperor of the Ryupel Empire were simple:
Be the dragon of your time.
Have a mate.
No one had ever broken those rules. Somehow, there was always a dragon who awakened with a mate—and the throne would pass to them.
“Lord Wiffred, will this help me find a mate?” asked Emperor Usman.
Usman, the current emperor, had no mate. Akelans—Duke of the North—had a woman widely believed to be his mate, even if not officially declared.
Usman only had one thing going for him: his father’s last will.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Count Bessa Wiffred confidently. He was eyeing the position of Grand Chamberlain for himself.
“But everyone keeps going on about history and tradition…”
Usman was still young—barely over a thousand years old, practically a child next to Akelans, who had lived for four thousand. The strict traditions and ancient officials of the empire didn’t allow Usman full power.
“It’s always ‘the late Emperor said this’ or ‘the law says that’—so boring.”
He frowned, clearly annoyed. And yes, he’d heard the rumors from the North. After his coronation, he should’ve been the talk of the empire. Instead, everyone was focused on Akelans, who had looked down on Usman at the ceremony and stole all the attention.
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. I’ve dug up all the old laws. We’ll find you a proper mate.”
“How?”
Bessa Wiffred’s eyes sparkled.
“Centuries ago, a dragon without a mate found one later. It’s written in the records.”
“Really?”
“Yes. That dragon was the Duke of Roetingen himself.”
“Wait—centuries ago? Then the woman he’s with now can’t be the same one.”
“Exactly. The current woman is only twenty-three. A completely different person.”
“So she’s not his real mate!”
“That’s likely.”
Wiffred lowered his voice, and Usman leaned in eagerly.
“According to records, the previous woman was someone the Duke chose himself.”
“Then I can choose too!”
“Exactly, Your Majesty. Choose someone suitable. From a noble family, preferably.”
Wiffred didn’t care that dragons often chose mates from all walks of life. He just wanted someone powerful and politically useful.
“Once you have a mate, the Duke will fade into the background.”
Everything they said, in the end, circled back to Akelans.
Back in Roetingen
Akelans was a man full of ambition. Even with the power to turn back time, the one thing he couldn’t control was Hasollan.
And now, she had finally settled down in his castle.
But that didn’t mean she was easy to handle. Even inside the castle, she could still drive him mad.
“Your Grace,” a report came in, “since your arrival, many people have come to Roetingen—some visiting, some wanting to live here.”
Word had spread that the dragon had arrived, and many thought that meant the region would now be safe.
“Tighten security. Some of them may have bad intentions,” Akelans ordered.
Like spies from Emperor Usman and his scheming aide, Count Wiffred.
“Don’t let any unfamiliar people into the castle.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
After Colonel Hunts left, Hasollan, sitting nearby, muttered as she looked out the window.
“What’s the point? Real spies always find a way in…”
Akelans leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself. He liked it when she commented on such matters.
“Still, it’ll keep the riffraff away.”
“Are you hiding something?” she asked casually.
“Not hiding. Protecting.”
“Protecting what?”
She didn’t ask, so he said it anyway.
“You.”
“Me? Why?”
“Why not?”
She rolled her eyes, and he frowned, falling into thought.
“Usman will grow more desperate. He doesn’t have a mate.”
“He’s looking for one.”
“You think it’s that easy to find?”
He scoffed. She looked at him, almost defiantly.
“He just needs to pick someone.”
“What about the bond? The power?”
True mates shared a special power. Hasollan smirked.
“Who cares? He’ll figure it out.”
Even if the bond existed, it didn’t mean much if no one believed in it.
“People aren’t stupid,” Akelans said. “It won’t last if it’s fake.”
His voice had turned cold.
He knew she wasn’t just talking about the emperor anymore.
