“Let me go! Let me go right now, you bastard!”
Noel struggled desperately in Shamir’s arms, her silver-white hair messy from the commotion, and her pale pink dragon horns brushed against Shamir’s neck, carrying the soft, fluffy touch unique to a dragon hatchling.
Her short little legs kicked incessantly, while her tiny claws clutched tightly at the lapels of Shamir’s everyday robe, her nails almost digging into the fabric.
Her crimson vertical pupils were filled with rage and defiance, and the pink heart at the tip of her tail was stretched taut, like a little thorn ready to explode at any moment.
Yet Shamir remained perfectly composed, holding her securely around the waist with just one arm, while the other hand pressed down her flailing little hands, fingertips gently rubbing the soft flesh of her palm.
This hatchling’s body was simply too delicate—even her claws hadn’t grown sharp yet, not the slightest threat at all.
Lowering her head to gaze at the bristling little thing in her arms, a glimmer of amusement flickered through Shamir’s golden vertical pupils.
Her voice was tinged with a lazy sort of indulgence: “So temperamental? The dress I just put on you is about to get ruined.”
“Who wants to wear this stupid dress!”
Noel glared at Shamir angrily, craning her little neck to retort.
Her childish voice quivered with fury: “Shamir, what exactly are you trying to do? You turned me into a hatchling and even forced me to dress like this. Are you planning to keep me as a pet!?”
“Pet?” Shamir raised an eyebrow, her fingertip lightly tapping the drooping pink-and-white dragon horn, making Noel shrink away.
“My little one is far more precious than any pet.”
As she spoke, Shamir leaned in close to Noel’s ear, her warm breath brushing past Noel’s cheek, carrying a faint whiff of dragon musk.
“As for Dragon’s End Valley, don’t worry. Your brother can’t escape, and your holy sword, ‘Dawnbringer’, I’ve kept safe for you too.”
Those words were like a pebble tossed into the lake of Noel’s heart, making her freeze in an instant.
Her struggling ceased as she lifted her head, crimson vertical pupils brimming with confusion.
“You… where did you hide ‘Dawnbringer’?” But in the next instant, she realized something was off.
“No! You ambushed me and turned me into this. Now you’re saying all this to trick me! You liar!”
Shamir looked at her warily, unable to stifle a light laugh, and gently flicked her nose with a fingertip.
“What’s the point of tricking you? In your current state, even if you got ‘Dawnbringer’ back, could you even hold it?”
“Be good, eat your food and grow stronger. Once you can hold it steady, I’ll naturally return it to you.”
As she spoke, Shamir shook her other hand—which now held a miniature model of the holy sword.
The silvery blade was etched with fine runes, identical to “Dawnbringer” itself.
“This is a toy I made for our little baby, an exact replica of your ‘Dawnbringer’.”
“You…” Noel’s gaze was fixed on the tiny model, her throat bobbing with a mix of frustration and anxiety.
What Shamir said was true. In this hatchling’s body, Noel could barely hold a small cup, let alone the real “Dawnbringer”.
To bow her head to the Dragon Emperor who’d ambushed her and stolen her heart would be worse than death.
But she refused to give in, biting her lip, clutching Shamir’s lapels in her little claws, glaring at her in grievance and fury: “I won’t listen to you! I’m not your baby, Shamir! You liar, you bastard! Jerk!”
Shamir no longer argued, simply holding Noel as she turned and walked toward the hall’s exit.
Luoli had long since finished tidying the washing supplies.
Seeing this, she hurried to catch up, carrying a silver goblet filled with dragon milk.
The corridor’s ice lamps glowed softly, casting a shimmering light on Shamir’s pale silver robe and making the pink dragon-patterned dress Noel wore especially eye-catching.
Shamir walked steadily down the corridor, Noel’s little legs kicking and her childish voice shouting, but Shamir’s arms held her firmly, not missing a step.
“Shamir, you bastard! Put me down! Just wait until I recover my body—then I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, you jerk!”
Shamir glanced down, golden vertical pupils sweeping over the redness at the corners of Noel’s eyes.
There was even a hint of helpless laughter in her tone: “Ili, if you keep shouting, your voice will give out.”
“I don’t need you to worry! Shamir, you bastard, you jerk!”
Noel craned her neck and retorted, her tiny claws gripping Shamir’s robe even tighter.
Wisps of silver hair clung to her sweat-dampened forehead, and her pink-and-white dragon horns were burning with anger.
But just as she finished shouting, her stomach betrayed her with a loud “grumble”.
The sound was especially clear in the quiet corridor, making her freeze instantly, cheeks flushing red all the way to the tips of her ears.
“Uu…”
Luoli followed behind, stifling her laughter, and timely offered the silver goblet of dragon milk.
“Your Majesty, Her Highness must be hungry. The dragon milk is still warm.”
The dragon milk in the silver cup glowed with a faint milky-white light, wafting with the unique sweetness of Starlit Spring.
Just the scent made Noel’s stomach rumble again.
Gurgle—
Shamir halted, propping Noel up with one hand and taking the silver goblet in the other, bringing it to Noel’s lips.
“Come on, Yiyi, open up.”
“I’m not drinking!” Noel turned her head away, deliberately burying her face in the crook of Shamir’s neck.
But her nose brushed against the faint dragon musk clinging to Shamir’s robe, mingling with the sweet scent of dragon milk, making her even hungrier.
Gurgle—
Yet thinking that it was her “enemy” handing her the drink, she steeled herself and pushed the cup away with her tiny claws: “Shamir, are you trying to poison me? That must be it! I won’t fall for it! Go away!”
“Poison you? What nonsense. You’re my little cub, why would I ever poison my own little cub?”
Shamir arched an eyebrow, gently poking her puffed-up cheek with a fingertip:
“This dragon milk is stewed from ice silkworm milk and Starlit Spring. When you fainted yesterday, I fed you half a cup. You didn’t say anything about it being poisoned then, did you?”
Noel jerked her head up, her crimson vertical pupils widening in shock: “You—you even fed me?”
She had no recollection of what happened after she fainted, but Shamir’s tone was so certain it made her uneasy.
Impossible, it’s absolutely impossible.
Shamir is the Dragon Emperor—she even dug out my heart! How could she ever feed me something like this?
Absolutely impossible.
She must be trying to lull me into lowering my guard, then use me to get information so she can attack humanity.
That’s it!
That must be it!
While Noel was lost in thought, Shamir tipped her wrist, bringing the silver goblet to Noel’s lips.
The warm dragon milk brushed lightly against the corner of her mouth.
“I don’t want to drink th—mmph.”
Noel instinctively licked her lips, and the sweet milky flavor instantly bloomed across her tongue—far better than any barley porridge she’d had with the Holy Spirit Order.
“Mmm… I don’t want it… mmph…”
She tried to push it away, but her hunger was overwhelming, and her little tongue couldn’t help but lick again.
“Good, drink it all up.”
Shamir’s voice softened, and her fingertip gently stroked Noel’s chin, as if soothing a sulking little beast: “Once you’re done, I’ll take you to see your precious ‘Dawnbringer’.”
Noel’s movements paused, her crimson vertical pupils full of hesitation.
She stared into Shamir’s golden eyes, searching for any trace of deception, but all she found was calm.
In the end, a dragon hatchling’s hunger and her obsession with the holy sword triumphed.
Awkwardly, she opened her mouth, allowing Shamir to feed her dragon milk bit by bit.
The warm dragon milk slid down her throat, filling her empty stomach and finally easing the tension in her little body.
Luoli stood nearby, watching Noel drink until milk gathered at the corner of her mouth.
Unable to resist, she took out a handkerchief, wanting to help her wipe it off, but Shamir lifted a hand to stop her.
“Luoli, let me do it.”
Shamir lowered her head, and with a gentle fingertip, wiped away the milk at the corner of Noel’s mouth.
Her movements were so natural and tender that even her golden eyes softened.
Noel was so startled by this that she froze, nearly choking on the dragon milk.
She jerked her head away, her ears red enough to drip blood, flailing her little claws against Shamir’s hand: “W-what are you doing! Don’t—don’t touch me!”