Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

She was alive. Probably. The dead don’t usually wake up naked and freezing with a split lip and a headache that could kill a horse, but then again, she’d never died before, so who the hell knew.

Sunset was bleeding orange through the tower window, which meant she’d been out cold for a full day. She sat up slowly and winced, every muscle aching. The blanket fell to her waist and cold air hit her skin.

”Seriously. Why am I naked?”

The question was directed at the room. The room did not answer.

Her silk pajamas were shredded on the floor beside the bed. She had no memory of removing them or how she wound up in her bed. The last thing she remembered clearly was the stone floor of the throne room and the taste of her own blood.

She pulled the blanket tight, got vertical on trembling legs, and reached the bathing chamber through a sequence of stumbles.

The mirror told her she looked like hell. Lip split. Purple bruises on her face, shoulders, ribs, and one on her neck.

When she turned in the mirror, she saw bandages on her back.

She remembered the throne room. The whip. Cassian. The man who called himself Kael had been cuffed beside her on the floor. She remembered looking into his eyes, then nothing after that. Just a deep, impenetrable fog.

Carefully, she peeled one of the bandages. The lash under was mostly healed. It looked like it was a week old, not a day.

How long had she been knocked out?

✦✦✦

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

One shower that stung like a motherfucker? Check.

Hair and body? Clean. Society can stop judging.

Dignity? Working on it.

No maids or omegas were sent to check on her, which was a sign that something was off. Cassian had claimed she was married to a dragon lord and ran away. She had no memory of any of that. Her mind kept going in circles on that.

One way to find out.

Yes, she was a bit banged up. No, she was not going to cry about it like a little bitch and look ugly while Cassian won. She was going to walk out of this room with her head held high and look damn good doing it.

The softest undergarments she had were lace. Fuck it.

Her favorite dress was calling her name. Decision locked.

Earrings and necklace? Why the fuck not.

Crown? Her mother’s sat untouched on her top shelf. It’d been there since she passed and today seemed like the day to put it on. Done.

One final look in the mirror. Fist-fight princess aesthetic. Wonderful.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard shouting from outside. Then a horn sounded. She crossed to the window. The eastern tree line was on fire. But the fire was wrong. It was burning purple at the edges and moving against the wind, which fire had no business doing. Dark shapes dropped from the sky.

Her hand flew to her mouth. She had never seen anything like it in her life.

One crisis at a time. The mirror wasn’t going to explain shit. Time to find someone with a functioning mouth and a goddamn explanation.

She opened her chamber door. Two guards were stationed outside and both turned with expressions that sat somewhere between relief and panic.

”Your Grace, you need to stay in your chambers. Orders were—”

”Whose orders?”

The guards exchanged a look. The kind of look men exchange when the answer to a question is going to create more questions.

”The dragon’s, Princess.”

”What dragon?”

”The man who was... brought in with you last night. He’s a dragon, Your Grace. From Velkaris. He’s been running the Keep’s defense since the first attack.”

Guinevere stared at the guard for three full seconds.

The man named Kael, the one who had saved her life, was a dragon. She wanted to thank him. She also wanted to figure out what the hell was attacking them.

”Where is he now?”

”Defending the Keep, Your Highness.”

She pushed past the guards and started down the stairs. Four more were stationed on the stairs in intervals. That was new.

The great hall was chaos.

Servants were running in twelve directions. Elders were arguing in a cluster by the hearth. Maria was holding a child who was crying. Three wounded warriors were being carried through on stretchers, and the blood trailing behind them was mixed with something black that smelled like burnt copper.

A soldier she knew, Armon Feldman, stumbled through the main doors, bleeding from a gash across his chest.

”Three of them got through the south line.”

Guinevere caught his arm as he passed. ”What are those things?”

The soldier looked at her. Recognized the princess and seemed briefly unsure if he was supposed to be talking to her or saluting or running.

”The dragon called them dark fae. They’ve been hitting us in waves since last night. No shifting to kill them, Princess.”

”Where are you running?”

”Armory count on the dragon orders. We’re going through weapons twice as fast since shifting’s off the table. It’s empty, unfortunately. I need to report back to the dragon.”

She stepped aside. ”Go.”

”Thank you, Your Grace.” Armon pulled away and kept running.

Guinevere stood in the center of the great hall while the information reorganized itself in her head.

The Alpha’s vault beneath the Keep held weapons. Only the Alpha’s signet ring would open it. One was on Renwick Lunaris wherever he was, and the other was on Cassian.

She turned to the hall.

”STOP MOVING. STOP TALKING. LOOK AT ME.”

The hall stopped. Every head turned.

”Elders, civilians and children go to the utility tunnels with Luna Maria. You lock the iron gate from inside. You hold there. If there is a breach, you exit. You will take torches, water, and supplies. You will close the iron gate behind you and lock it from inside.”

She clapped her hands once. ”Move. Now.”

The room moved. Bodies were flowing towards exits with the organized urgency of people who had been waiting for clear instructions and had finally received them.

Maria paused in front of her, tears streaming.

”Guinevere, I’m so sorry, what he did to you last night, I tried—”

”Maria,” Guinevere cut her off, voice firm but kind. ”Don’t worry. You did nothing wrong. Where is Cassian?”

Her mind was already trying to solve the next issue which was the weapons shortage. Surely he would have thought of it by now.

Maria’s eyes went wide as all the color drained from her face.

”The dungeons on the dragon’s order. We’ve been under attack, and I don’t know what p-protocol is—” Her voice crumbled.

It was clear this woman had been in distress about this exact question. Guinevere understood immediately. Maria was in a tight position and she was likely worried about Renwick’s reaction when he learned she did nothing.

”Don’t worry. I’ll get him,” Guinevere said with no hesitation.

Maria looked like she was going to collapse. Guinevere wasn’t going to let her.

She grabbed Maria by both forearms. ”Maria. Look at me. When this is over, my father is going to hear that his Luna held this Keep together. Give him that story. Keep everyone calm. You can do this.”

She held Maria’s gaze for one more second, then released her.

”Yes. I can do this,” Maria repeated, wiping her eyes.

She stood straighter, like a soldier ready for war, then took off like a Luna with a deadline.

One Luna handled. One homicidal brother to go. The difficulty curve on this evening was vertical.