Married To The Dragon Prince Against My Will-Chapter 276: THE POISON

Lumina stirred slowly, the ache blooming deep in her core before her eyes even opened.

Every muscle protested, her thighs burned, her waist throbbed with a dull, insistent pain, and between her legs felt swollen, tender from the hours Ashen had spent claiming her until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

She had reveled in it, begged for more even as her body trembled on the edge of collapse, but now the aftermath was merciless. She tried to roll onto her back, a sharp twinge made her hiss softly through clenched teeth.

The chamber door opened with a quiet click.

Ashen stepped inside, already dressed in dark trousers and a fitted tunic of deep crimson, the collar left open to reveal the strong column of his throat. In his hands he carried a small silver tray: her favorite almond-honey cake, still warm, dusted with powdered sugar that caught the late-afternoon light slanting through the arched windows. The sky outside was a bruised violet, the sun long past its zenith.

"Finally awake," he said, voice low and warm, though his eyes scanned her face with careful intensity.

Lumina pushed herself up on one elbow, wincing as the movement pulled at sore muscles. She stretched her arms toward him like a child, voice small and tired. "I’m hungry."

Ashen set the tray on the low table beside the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He pulled her gently against his chest, letting her nestle into the familiar heat of him. His arm curled around her shoulders; she sighed, cheek pressed to the steady thump of his heart.

"What time is it?" she murmured.

"Evening already." His fingers threaded through her tangled hair, stroking slowly. "And we’re making love again tonight, so get something in your stomach."

She swatted his chest weakly. "Hey!"

He laughed—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against her ear. "I’m kidding. We could just go out like you love. The night market, lanterns, music... whatever you want."

Lumina shook her head, burrowing closer. A strange heaviness settled over her limbs, deeper than mere exhaustion. Her eyelids felt weighted; her skin prickled with sudden cold despite the warmth of his body. "I don’t feel like moving."

Ashen frowned. He reached for the cake, slicing a small wedge with the silver knife and holding it to her lips. "Eat. You barely touched dinner last night."

She took the bite obediently, the sweetness bursting on her tongue—almond, honey, a hint of rosewater. He fed her another, then another, watching her closely. After the fourth piece, he noticed it: the pallor creeping beneath her golden skin, the faint blue shadows under her eyes, the way her breathing had grown shallow.

His heart lurched.

"My queen," he said softly, setting the cake aside. "How are you feeling?"

Lumina lifted her face, pressing her lips to the sensitive skin of his Adam’s apple in a sleepy, affectionate kiss. "Tired... extremely tired, Ashen."

He captured her hand, threading their fingers together. Warmth flared from his palm—dragon fire, gentle enough not to burn, just enough to chase away the chill. She sighed in relief, eyes fluttering closed.

"Ashen... kiss me."

He stood abruptly, releasing her hand. She reached for him, stretching across the sheets, but the moment their skin parted, something shifted. The weakness vanished—her limbs felt strong again, the ache receded. She stared at her hands in confusion, then up at him.

"What...?"

Ashen watched her intently. When she reached for him again, the pallor returned instantly—lips going bloodless, skin turning ashen, breath hitching as though the air had been stolen from her lungs. He jerked his hand back as if scalded.

Smoke began to curl from his nostrils, thin tendrils of gray rising like warning signals. His eyes glowed molten amber; the air around him shimmered with heat.

Lumina pushed herself upright despite the returning soreness, sheets pooling around her waist. "Ashen—"

"Don’t." His voice cracked like dry wood. He stepped back, palms raised. "Don’t touch me."

She froze. "What is happening to me? Why do I look like this and then... suddenly I’m fine when you’re not touching me?"

He clenched his fists until the knuckles whitened. "Poison."

The word landed like a stone in still water.

"What?" Lumina’s voice rose, sharp with disbelief. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the protest of her body, and stood. The sheet slipped to the floor, leaving her naked and vulnerable. She took a step toward him.

Ashen retreated another pace. "If you touch me, you get weak. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s tied to contact. Don’t come closer until I sort this out."

Tears of frustration welled behind her blindfold. "But I need to embrace you. I love—" Her voice broke. "I can’t do without touching you."

He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the radiant heat rolling off him, but far enough that their skin didn’t meet. "Well, you will have to—for now. Because I can’t bear to lose you. If this keeps up, I might go mad watching you fade every time I hold you. So relax."

"I promise I’ll sort it out."

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

Behind him, Lumina’s scream of pure, furious anguish tore through the chamber—raw, heartbroken, echoing off the stone walls.

Stella, hurrying down the corridor with fresh linens, froze at the sound. She rounded the corner just as Ashen emerged, smoke still drifting from his skin, eyes blazing.

The maid’s gaze sharpened to a glare. "What did you do to my lady?"

Ashen exhaled harshly. "I didn’t annoy her. We’ve been poisoned—not to touch one another."

Stella’s eyes widened. "Poisoned... not to touch? Who gets weak between the two of you?"

"My wife does." His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You know about this?"

She shook her head frantically. "No! That means the poison is in you!"

"Yeah." He dragged a hand through his hair, smoke curling between his fingers. "Go straight to the poison-master. Stop scaring me with guesses."

Stella hesitated, worry etching deep lines around her mouth. "It’s dangerous, my lord. If the poison is keyed to contact, the longer you stay apart, the worse it will become. You’ll start acting mad when you see her—restless, violent, irrational. And for her... the more you go close without resolution, the weaker she becomes. It could lead to her death." She swallowed. "And your madness."

Ashen’s fist tightened until the knuckles cracked. Flames flickered briefly along his forearm before he forced them down. "I know."

He glanced back toward the closed door. Inside, he could hear Lumina pacing—bare feet on marble, angry breaths, the occasional soft sob quickly smothered.

"Find the poison-master," he told Stella. "Tell him it’s contact-triggered. Tell him it’s killing her by inches every time I’m near. And tell him if he doesn’t have answers by dawn, I’ll burn the apothecary to the ground with him inside."

Stella bowed, already moving. "Yes, my lord."

Ashen remained in the corridor a moment longer, staring at the carved door as though he could see through it to his wife. He could still feel the ghost of her body against his—the way she had trembled beneath him, the way she had whispered his name like a prayer even as exhaustion claimed her.

He had taken her again and again, losing himself in her until she slept, limp and sated in his arms. Now that same body was paying the price for his recklessness, for his failure to protect her.

He pressed his forehead to the cool wood of the door.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear. "I will fix this. I swear it."

Then he straightened, smoke trailing behind him like a dark banner, and strode toward the king’s wing. Someone had done this—slipped poison into their food, their wine, their very air. Someone who knew exactly how to wound them both.

And when he found them, there would be no mercy.

Inside the chamber, Lumina sank to the edge of the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. The soreness between her thighs pulsed with every heartbeat, a cruel reminder of how thoroughly he had loved her. She pressed her palms to her eyes, blindfold damp with unshed tears.

She had wanted a child. She had begged for it.

Now the very act that might have given them one was tearing them apart.

She whispered his name into the empty room, voice cracking.

"Ashen..."

Outside, the evening sky darkened to indigo. Somewhere in the palace depths, a poison-master’s lamps were being lit, vials uncorked, ancient tomes opened.

And in the corridor, Ashen walked faster, flames licking at his heels.

He would find the antidote, the anger burning inside of him coul not be measured.

Who would dare at this game when he knows how much he loves his wife?

He would end this.

Because losing her was not an option.

Not now.

Not ever.