Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

”My father was in Greyhall and I—”

Her voice died mid-sentence. She swallowed. The words were right there but her mouth was refusing to cooperate. Classic glowing-jacuzzi performance anxiety.

She remembered what Cassian had said and decided to start there.

”Did we know each other before Greyhall?”

She omitted the brown-room bachelor-pad fiasco from the question. That bit required a drink. Hopefully, he would understand the subtext.

”Yes,” Nicholas answered.

He gave her nothing else, which meant he had either missed the subtext entirely or he wanted her to elaborate first so he had a better picture of what he was working with.

But she wasn’t ready to give him that yet.

”Have we met more than twice before Greyhall?” she tried again. Two times would include the brown-room and the supposed auction.

The pause that came next had the unmistakable feel of him workshopping his next sentence. Guinevere ripped the cord out mid-draft.

”I ask because something has happened to my memory, and I am trying to piece events together. I promise, whatever you are about to say, won’t scare me.”

His chest expanded under her and stayed locked, like he was purchasing one extra second of stall time.

”Yes, we know each other well,” he replied. ”I didn’t want to alarm you at Greyhall. You are correct that something happened to your memories. But I’m going to get to the bottom of it and you are going to get them back.” His voice was firm and sure, the voice of a king making a promise he intended to keep with his bare hands if necessary. ”That question has a reason behind it. What are you really asking me?”

She took a steadying breath.

”I was accused of treason by seducing you at some point between being sold and waking up and I don’t remember. D-did I?”

She left out the part where Cassian claimed Nicholas called her a vile woman, the lashes bit, and the most recent events in Greyhall. In short, this was baby-step simple because she was overwhelmed and she needed to start somewhere.

Nicholas’s face did something complicated that she didn’t understand.

”No. Never. Who told you that?”

”My brother,” she replied in the same tone she’d use to tell someone it might rain. ”It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I definitely committed treason in Greyhall so that ship has sailed.”

Understatement. That ship had sailed, caught fire, hit an iceberg, and the ’there’s room for two’ metaphor sank with it.

”I need to tell you something.”

She hiccuped and her eyes burned against her will. Nicholas sat up, concern written across every line of his face.

”My father says—” She stopped and took a steadying breath. ”I am married to the Dragon King, Nicholas. I am sorry that you are in this position. I breached the contract with him and my father said he will burn Lunaris. I don’t want him to burn Shadowfell.”

Apologizing wouldn’t cover it. But she did it anyway, delivered from his lap.

The statement sat between them like a grenade she just pulled the pin out of and she waited for the explosion.

It came.

Rage tsunamied through their matebond like a door-kicking motherfucker, hard enough to make her flinch.

The anger was deserved. She would be upset too if she were sitting in a magic tree pool and her fated mate confessed he was married. That was the kind of disclosure that killed the mood. Right up there with ’I’m actually your cousin.’

Then, like the flip of a switch, the anger guillotined mid-transmission. It was cut off so fast the absence left a vacuum, before turning into horror, which she didn’t fully understand.

”Hey, Guinevere. I know you’re married to Maddox. I’m not mad at you. I know, baby. It’s okay.”

He pulled her against his chest fully so her face pressed into the crook of his neck. She had to admit, it did make her feel much better.

”I don’t think I’ll be married to him much longer after he finds out. I just hope he doesn’t burn Lunaris because of me. I f-failed them.”

She hiccuped.

His jaw worked once against her ear.

”No, you didn’t. Drakencrest would never do that. He is a good man.”

He said it without hesitation. Like he knew Maddox personally. Like this was a character reference he was prepared to give under oath.

His throat bobbed like there was more he wanted to say about something, or someone, but he swallowed it instead.

She didn’t press.

He held her tightly, massaging her scalp, before shamelessly pressing his lips to her head. Multiple times. Something that stirred the same grief from before, the kind that couldn’t explain itself because the explanation was locked inside whatever she’d lost.

But whatever dark arts he was practicing with that head massage, was fucking working. The grief in her chest faded and her body completely melted into him.

They stayed locked like that for a stretch, his fingers in her hair, the glowing hot tub doing its ambient mystical background work, until his voice broke the silence.

”Do you know where we are, Guinevere? I saw floating islands and then a flash and we ended up in here.”

She let out another breath against his shoulder.

”If this is where I think it is, I had a run-in with the law and am a wanted criminal.”

The quiet that settled was the specific flavor of silence that shows up when someone drops an ’I’m a fugitive’ bomb.

”B-believe it or not, I usually am a rule follower. I know the treason and the run-in with the law doesn’t sound like it,” she added, her head still against his shoulder.

The optics were less than ideal to support that statement.

That’s when Nicholas lost it, surprising himself as much as her. Alphas didn’t laugh like this and it came out like a pressure valve finally blowing.

She slowly sat up to look at him.

”What is so funny?” she asked, a grin spreading across her face. She couldn’t help it.

He kissed her on the forehead amused like he found her life of crime adorable.

”How did you become a criminal here?”

Her grin faded.

”Their culture takes trespassing very seriously,” she began. ”I was involved with a high-speed police pursuit that ended with open fire.”

She didn’t wait for a response, cutting straight to the more critical issue.

”I also need to warn you that I am carrying runes that are contagious and skin contact with me means you might catch it.” She glanced down noticing white symbols forming on his chest in real-time. ”You may already have it, actually.”