Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

This was insane. This was certifiably, write-it-in-a-medical-journal, goddamn insane.

She was lying on a dungeon floor, playing dead, with a stolen signet ring jammed under her hip, while her brother searched her body through prison bars and provided a running monologue of his own unraveling and she was trying not to laugh because she was fucking ticklish and some things don’t change just because you’re committing treason.

He could use an Alpha command on her, so she needed to play the shit out of opossum.

”I KNOW you have it.” Cassian’s hand checked her collar. ”You took it. Rings don’t DISAPPEAR, Guinevere.”

”Roll her over,” a prisoner suggested helpfully.

”I CAN’T ROLL HER OVER. SHE’S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BARS, YOU ABSOLUTE—”

”Sounds like a you problem. I’ll just be unlocking every cell except for yours.”

”NOBODY TOUCHES THOSE KEYS.” Cassian roared in an Alpha command that echoed off every wall in the corridor.

Silence.

”We heard you the first ten times, Your Highness.”

A sound came out of Cassian that was half roar, half sob, and entirely the noise of a man who had peaked emotionally twenty minutes ago and was now free-falling through uncharted psychological airspace.

”She doesn’t HAVE pockets. What the FUCK is the point of no POCKETS? Where do women keep things?” he vented.

”Have you tried asking nicely?” a prisoner offered.

”SHE’S UNCONSCIOUS.”

”Is she though?”

Cassian tapped her hard with two fingers.

”Yes. She’s out cold,” he announced before he started searching her more frantically the way a dog digs for a bone. ”My ring controls the army. My ring opens the vault. My ring is the key to every military operation in this territory and it is CURRENTLY HIDDEN ON AN UNCONSCIOUS WOMAN I CANNOT REACH and I am going to LOSE MY MIND.”

”Bit late for that, mate.”

”I. WILL. FIND. IT.”

Neck. Shoulders. Ribs. Oh fuck. Every nerve ending on her left side fired at once. A squeak escaped her throat that she murdered mid-birth.

Three cells went dead quiet. The quiet of men watching a fuse burn toward something spectacular. Meanwhile, Prince Oblivious continued searching her, blissfully unaware.

He stood, kicked the wall once, followed it with a second kick for thoroughness, and launched into a full stress-pace.

”I’m the only one who’s immune. I’ve ALWAYS been the only one. And what do I get for it? I gave her my blood, and now she’s unconscious and not useful whatsoever—”

A prisoner cleared his throat.

”WHAT.”

”Nothing. Just. You might want to turn around.”

He turned.

The floor was empty.

”Wait for it,” the prisoner said. ”He’s processing.”

Cassian shook his head. ”NO.”

”Oh yes.”

”GUINEVERE,” he roared in an Alpha tone. ”GET BACK HERE!”

Absolute silence.

”YOU SAW HER GET UP!”

”We all saw her get up.”

”AND NOBODY SAID ANYTHING?”

”We said nothing.”

Someone started a slow clap.

It built. It spread. Then it became the loudest, longest standing ovation in dungeon history. Cups banged. Bars rattled. Men who hadn’t laughed in weeks were doubled over wheezing.

Ring? Gone.

Keys? Too far.

Sister? Nope.

Dignity? Last seen flipping off the readers on its way out.

✦✦✦

LUNARIS KEEP - NOT THE DUNGEON

Guinevere emerged from the dungeon stairs into the east corridor like a woman who had just committed a felony and found the experience thrilling.

The sounds of fighting were louder now, coming from multiple directions. The Keep was holding, but the edges were fraying.

The vault.

She ran.

The main hall was empty now.

The staircase to sub-level one sat behind a door that had mastered the art of being overlooked. No markings. No ornamentation. Her father had designed it specifically to be ignored. The most valuable room in the Keep was hidden behind a door that a servant would walk past a hundred times without noticing.

She opened it. The stairs were narrow and unlit. She grabbed a torch from the corridor and descended.

The vault door was at the bottom. Iron. Massive. Three inches thick with a locking mechanism set dead center at chest height. The mechanism was a recessed cylinder with the Lunaris crest carved into the face, a crescent moon bisected by a single claw.

She held up the signet ring. The crest on it was identical.

The ring fit into the recess the way a key fits a lock. She pressed it in, felt it seat, and turned.

The cylinder rotated. The mechanism engaged. Something heavy inside the door shifted, and the vault cracked open with a sound like a held breath being released.

The door swung inward.

✦✦✦

Tyler Draven was having the worst night of his life for the third consecutive time. Last night had been the previous record-holder. The night before that was still bitter about losing. At this rate he’d be dead by Thursday and would probably thank whoever managed it.

His remaining fighters were rotating dull blades, sharing weapons between shifts because there were more fighters than there were things to fight with. Two men on the eastern wall were fighting with kitchen cleavers because the armory had been stripped clean three hours ago.

The dungeon corridor door banged open.

Guinevere Lunaris walked through it carrying four swords, two quivers, and the expression of a woman who had just robbed her own family and was looking for accomplices.

”Where did you—” Tyler started.

”Vault. Take these.” She dropped the blades into Tyler’s arms. ”There are three hundred blades, twelve crates of arrows, and enough armor for every fighter in this Keep. Sub-level one, behind the kitchen corridor, fourth door on the left. It’s open.”

Tyler stared at her. Stared at the blades. Back at her.

”How did you open the vault? That’s Alpha-sealed.”

She held up the signet ring.

Tyler’s face traveled through five emotions in three seconds. Surprise. Confusion. Awe. Concern about the political implications. Acceptance that those implications were a problem for tomorrow.

”Cassian gave you the ring?”

”Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Tyler decided he did not need further details. He turned and started barking orders.

”RUNNERS. Sub-level one. Fourth door past the kitchens. Every blade, every bow, every arrow. Move. NOW.”

Six warriors stood in unison, headed for the corridor. Like they’d been doing this all night and had a system, and Tyler was the man running the system.

Guinevere grinned. She couldn’t help it. She was proud of him and there was nothing she could do about it.

”What?” Tyler asked, chest puffed out like a man who had already decided that feigning ignorance was the hill he would die on.

Guinevere shook her head and turned, already heading for the eastern wall, her bow in her left hand, the quiver across her back.

”Wait, Gwen, where are you going?”

”Don’t worry, Tyler. I’ll come find you in a bit,” she called over her shoulder.

Ten levels below where they were, Cassian Lunaris sat in an open cell with an empty hand and a locked jaw, listening to the distant sound of weapons being distributed to an army that his sister had just armed with his own ring.

The vault door was open. The seal was gone. The girl he had backhanded, whipped, spit on, and choked had just walked through every locked door in his kingdom without asking permission, and every fighter in the Keep was going to know exactly who had armed them before the night was over.

The political implications would eat him alive.

They had already started.

”FUCK.”