Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Once upon a time, in the land of Velkaris, there was a daughter-selling wolf king, a loud dragon, two brothers with bad communication, a hole-in-the-hand mage, a traumatized Beta, and a girl who said ”fuck” in front of her father for the first time and found it so thrilling she did it again.

Lord Edward Solandris held a blade to Kael’s throat. ”Drop your weapon, boy.”

”Easy there, Eddie,” Kael replied lightly, not looking at him. ”Keep waving that sword around and people might think you’re compensating for something. Oh wait, you’re a Solandris. Never mind.”

With a resigned sigh, Eron Solandris raised both of his palms, aimed at Kael. ”Do what he says, or I will cook you, Ashenvale.”

”You know, for two brothers who supposedly run this camp, you sure do need a lot of knives to feel safe around one loud dragon. Adorable.”

Guinevere met Kael’s eyes. She knew he was running calculations.

There would be a slight delay if he called for flame. But Kael had the Draconic Register. One word and every blade in the tent hit the floor. If the Master Mage could choke a mindlink, she wasn’t sure if he could do something to the Draconic Register too. All of that was a gamble that Kael would have a better read on than her.

With her father being an Alpha, she was also unsure if it would work on him. If it didn’t, Kael would burn him, because his flame wouldn’t hurt Guinevere. That would automatically be his move. As upset as she was, Renwick Lunaris was still her father, and she didn’t want him burning to death.

Kael’s face gave nothing away.

”You want my blade? Fine.”

He dropped his blade, and it clattered to the ground. ”There. You can stop clenching your assholes now, gentlemen. We’re all friends here.”

They were, in fact, not all friends here.

”Hands,” Eron ordered.

Kael extended his wrists the way a man extends a handshake he doesn’t mean. ”I’ll warn you now, I fidget a lot. It’s going to annoy everyone in this tent.”

Her eyes widened for half a second, before she schooled her expression. This was Kael Ashenvale, and he always had a backup card up his sleeve.

Eron Solandris closed dragon iron around Kael’s wrists.

”Two blades and dragon iron for little old me? Shucks. I’m blushing.”

FOURTEEN MINUTES PRIOR:

The difference between a rescue and a disaster was fourteen minutes, a scent trail, and a king who chose to stand still when every cell in his body was screaming move.

Kael was moving through Diplomat Row at a dragon-speed sprint, when Maddox grabbed him by the collar. He halted mid-step, snapping his head towards his brother.

”When did you—”

Maddox motioned for him to be silent, and Kael shut up mid-word.

Behind Kael, three more froze mid-step: Sterling, Jaxon, Ryker, all of whom had clocked the Fourth sprinting like there was a fire and came to the unanimous conclusion that he knew where Guinevere was.

Maddox pointed at Sterling, then at the ground. Stay. Listen to the tent.

Maddox pulled the other three a dozen paces off, around a second corner, well out of range of any dragon hearing pressed to a tent wall. He set them in a tight knot, backs to the cold, and dropped his voice to something that didn’t carry past the four of them.

”Guinevere’s in there.” His gold eyes moved between them, flat and fast. ”It sounds like Solandris’s mage pulled something. I don’t have the full picture. She’s calm. That’s the only reason I haven’t gone through the canvas already.”

Kael stared at him.

”Let me get this straight. Words about her got a Lord Ocandia beheaded.” He gestured vaguely at the world. ”But abducting her has you standing outside a tent?”

”I want to burn it to the poles.” Maddox said it without heat, which was somehow worse. ”Believe me. Every part of me wants to be inside that tent.”

He didn’t pause for Kael to catch up.

”And Ocandia was a separate problem with a separate answer. He’d skimmed three war levies, his eastern garrison was a week from mutiny, and his own seconds had stopped covering for him. The chamber needed an example, and he volunteered. That was bookkeeping.”

Kael’s mouth came open. He shut it again.

Maddox kept going.

”Solandris is one of the oldest houses on this continent and one of our deepest alliances. If House Solandris is doing this,” he tipped his chin toward the tent, ”they are not doing it alone, and they did not start tonight. I’m not behind by accident. I’m behind because someone built it that way. I intend to find the architect.” His jaw tightened a fraction. ”They want something with my wife badly enough to take her, and they sat silent through the entire council this evening. That’s not caution. That’s premeditation. You and Jaxon both flagged Marek to me earlier today.”

He let that sit one second.

”She has it handled. I trust her. That buys me time to do this right.”

Then he took command, and the air changed.

”Ryker. Guards. Quietly. I want a ring around that tent. Prepare for ambush and for pulling her on my word. This stays stealth until I say otherwise.”

”Copy, Commander.”

”Jaxon.” Maddox turned. ”Wards and portals. Something in there is eating mindlinks. My read is their mage can also hear mindlinks thrown nearby. If they reach for a portal to take her, I want us standing on the other end of it before they finish the thought. Get me what they’re using, what else it does, and where the anchor sits. Pull Lux in. There’s dark magic in that tent and I’d rather two minds on it than one.”

”On it, Your Majesty.”

Maddox’s gaze came around, last, and landed on his brother.

”Kael. You’re the hero tonight.”

Kael’s eyebrows shot up. ”I’m the hero? Fuck me, the bar really is in hell.”

”Keep them talking as long as possible,” Maddox continued. ”They’ll be less careful in front of an ex-traitor. You’re the one face in this Keep they’ll underestimate. Use it.”

Kael shrugged in agreement. ”My reputation for being a loud cunt comes in handy.”

”If it gets out of hand,” Maddox added. ”You say one phrase and I bring the whole tent down around you. Pick a phrase.”

Kael thought for half a second. ”’Fuck me, I’m thirsty.’”

Maddox stared at him for one full second.

”That’s your emergency phrase?” Jaxon hissed.

Maddox held up one hand without turning. Jaxon went quiet.

”Noted. I want three things.” He held up three fingers. ”Who’s in there. What they want with her. And what’s on the parchment they’re pushing her to touch. She hasn’t touched it, which means she’s already smelled the trap.”

”So I’m the good-looking distraction,” Kael said.

”Yes.”

”You know every idiot in the war council thinks Sterling’s the brain behind the throne,” Kael smirked. ”They’ve got no idea the Dragon King is the real diabolical bastard. Respect.” He jerked his chin at Maddox. ”Point to you, little brother.”

Kael took off like a bat out of hell, sprinting through Diplomat Row, past three drunk lords, a topless woman, and two soldiers sharing a bottle. None of them registered the most dangerous man in the camp running past them in the dark.

Behind him, the Dragon King pressed flat against canvas and became a wall. A patient, calculating, dragon-shaped wall who loved his wife enough to let someone else save her first.

Four men. One plan. Zero margin for error.