Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Nicholas had restarted Guinevere’s heart in the jungle with a mark. Guinevere had just put her mark on Nicholas on a corridor floor. Damon wasn’t claiming to be a genius, but he could do that math with his damn eyes closed.

Renwick saw Nicholas’s corpse cooling on the floor. The clock was ticking and damage-control mode was fully engaged. His daughter had just set the goddamn map on fire and turned the whole operation into a circus, so this widow’s bullshit contract was at the bottom of his current shit list.

But he still had one eyebrow raised. There was an issue.

”That doesn’t solve the contract I have with Drakencrest.”

”No,” Damon agreed. ”But it puts you in the best position to. You and I both know it, Alpha. If Drakencrest does consider it a breach, Shadowfell will pay the seven hundred and fifty million gold as a contingency. I’m not going to insult you and pretend that the dragon fleet Drakencrest offered is nothing, because it’s not. But I can offer that.”

A man who admits his offer is imperfect is harder to distrust than a man who claims it’s flawless. Damon sacrificed a pawn right there.

Renwick tilted his head. ”You are offering that for a woman fated to your late king who brings no value to your kingdom outside of that. Make this math make sense to me.”

”Nicholas had already liquidated an estate and was going to approach you. You gain a strong alliance and a contingency to absorb the financial impact. It’s a backup plan offered to you in good faith because that is exactly what Nicholas would have wanted.” Damon paused. ”That man loved her, Renwick. He would want his pack to take care of her people. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Sentiment was the Trojan horse there. The kill shot. Every concession needs a story, and ”a dead man loved your daughter” was a story Renwick couldn’t refuse without becoming the villain of it.

Renwick was quiet for a long time.

”I’ll give it to you straight,” he said after a moment. ”If Drakencrest backs out, there is another buyer I am obligated to oblige whether I want to or not. But if that person does not want her, then Shadowfell can be the contingency.”

Damon had a hunch of who that buyer was because that King swam in a frozen river next to Nicholas.

”Done,” Damon said with zero hesitation. ”Lex Relictae stays in effect permanently, regardless of which kingdom puts gold in your vault.”

Renwick’s fingers drummed the table once. Twice. The rhythm of a man running calculations that had too many variables and not enough constants.

”And if Drakencrest objects to Shadowfell’s claim?”

”Shadowfell’s claim is a legal shield, not a leash. She goes where she goes. Drakencrest keeps his wife. You keep your gold. I keep my Alpha’s promise. Nobody loses.”

”Everybody loses something, Damon. That’s how deals work.”

”Then what are you losing?”

Renwick looked at him for a long moment.

”I am inheriting the risk of Drakencrest viewing Lex Relictae as Shadowfell claiming his wife.”

MOVE 7: CHECKMATE

”You are inheriting a clean alibi and protection to your daughter,” Damon corrected. ”She goes to Velkaris and you don’t deal with it. If she comes to Nyros, she has protection. Another king’s claim does nothing if the king is dead. She retains her honor within Lunaris. We all walk away from this benefiting. And you have two contingencies if Drakencrest finds breach, which I doubt he will. But if he does, you have it.”

Renwick looked like an Alpha who had just been outmaneuvered by a Beta and was deciding whether to be impressed or furious about it.

He stood. The chair scraped against the stone.

”Draft it. Get it to me within the hour.”

✦✦✦

45 MINUTES LATER

Renwick had signed a widow’s protection contract when the widow’s mate was probably, as in most definitely, alive. Damon kept that part to himself because timing is everything and this wasn’t the time.

It was, however, very funny.

Because that turned Lex Relictae into a marriage authorization that granted his daughter full standing, full immunity, and permanent recognition as Luna of Shadowfell.

Shadowfell sat third in line, which meant Nicholas’s seven hundred and fifty million gold could stay in the vault. Damon had achieved in fifteen-ish minutes what Nicholas had been dry-humping since he met Guinevere Lunaris, and he did it without spending a single gold piece of the man’s fortune.

GOAT BETA STATUS: Unlocked

Damon also assumed Maddox Drakencrest was on his way.

He was correct.

Maddox Drakencrest hit Greyhall Crossing like a man who had run out of patience three days ago and just flew an hour with Kael, Brennan, and Jaxon on his back. Do the math.

The corridors smelled wrong. Ash. Burnt copper. Something organic and sour that Maddox recognized from Lunaris Keep because it was the same goddamn scent. Dark Fae.

They’d been inside the building. During a summit called to fight them.

Reed Crossmen rounded the corner with an expression that suggested he had been deep-throating a shitstorm for the last hour. His eyes hit Maddox first, then Kael, then landed on Brennan.

”Thank fuck.”

He said it like Brennan was a lifeboat and he had been treading water for hours.

”We need your help. Black feathers started materializing across the building after she—” He caught himself. ”After the incident. One of them had opened a Dark Fae portal. She closed that. But she’s not here to close the others if they open.”

”Gather them,” Brennan said immediately. ”Every single one. Don’t touch them with bare skin. Use cloth or leather. Bring them to me in one place.”

Reed barked an order to a Shadowfell wolf behind him who took off running.

Jaxon tilted his head, mildly intrigued. He was about to witness a sandwich-addicted ex-con wizard either pull off pure genius or a full-scale dumpster fire.

”And what exactly are you going to do with a pile of Dark Fae portal anchors, Brennan?”

Brennan turned one of the feathers over in his hand, holding it with the edge of his cloak. His eyes traced the barbs like a man who’d possibly stolen a few in his day and could absolutely walk you straight to the guy who sold them out of a carriage behind the strip club.

”Simple. I’m going to open a portal over deep ocean, dump them through, and slam it shut before any failsafe triggers activate. These are Nethervein Conduits. Black-market dimensional anchors. Expensive ones too. Whoever supplied these didn’t cheap out.” He held it up to the torchlight. ”They’ll sink regardless of salt buoyancy. When they activate and a portal opens, it’ll open to the bottom of the sea. The pressure alone would kill anything that goes through.”

Jaxon blinked. Fuck. That was actually a clean plan. No holes, no hand-wavy bullshit. Steal the enemy’s own toys and dump them somewhere that turned the users into corpses. The fact that it was this airtight annoyed the shit out of him.

”Do you need anything else?” Jaxon asked, his voice dripping with the sarcasm of a mage whose intelligence had just been skull-fucked by a former felon. ”A snack? A round of applause?”

”A snack would be great, actually.”

Brennan pulled one from his robes like he’d been waiting for someone to ask.