Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Blair Drakencrest had a twelve-item list. This just became priority one.

She was going to assemble the puzzle, and then she was going to make whoever was behind it wish they had picked a different corridor, a different night, and a different Keep to conspire in.

She pulled Damon into the alcove behind the column. He went without resistance because Damon Tavian was the kind of man who recognized when someone else had more information and adjusted accordingly. He also recognized that the princess’s hand was small enough to fit inside his and strong enough to make him forget that.

Then Brennan Pike rounded the same corner.

His mouth opened. Blair’s hand covered it before the first syllable formed. She yanked him into the alcove with the arm that wasn’t attached to Damon and the three of them were suddenly sardined into a space designed for a decorative vase and absolutely nothing else.

Damon had already clocked two things. First, Blair Drakencrest was pressed against him in a space that could charitably be described as intimate and his body was having opinions about it that his brain was working very hard to veto. Second, this woman terrified him. She also intrigued him in equal measure.

Both feelings were pulling in the same direction, which was a problem Damon hadn’t anticipated when he’d gone for a walk at two in the morning.

Brennan breathed through Blair’s fingers. But he took the hint.

The voices were moving again, closer now.

”...the runes are accelerating the process...”

”...Solandris is aware. The contingency is already...”

Then the voices stopped. Blair felt Damon tense behind her. He had connected something.

Footsteps. One set. Coming toward them.

Blair looked out of the alcove just as someone rounded the corner.

A hooded figure moved down the corridor like sketchy was his full-time job. Cloak pulled high. Face hidden.

He passed the alcove without looking because the hour was late, the corridor was dark, and ’I’m alone’ was the most reliable blind spot in the history of getting murdered.

She knew him.

Marek Navarre. Master Mage of House Solandris.

The man she had caught inside this Keep yesterday too, even though all the dragon houses had gone home because the war summit was over. The man who Maddox was gathering intelligence on, which was the only reason he was walking free.

Blair glanced at Damon and Brennan. She held up one finger.

”Stay here,” she whispered, her mouth close enough to Damon’s ear that her breath moved his hair. ”Do not come out. Regardless of what you hear.”

Damon’s jaw tightened. He did not enjoy being told to hide by a woman half his size, but something in her voice, the calm, the certainty, the absolute absence of fear, made him listen.

Brennan gave a silent nod.

She stepped out of the alcove and moved.

Her boots made no sound. Her posture shifted from hidden to casual in one stride, like she had just turned the corner from the opposite direction and was heading to her chambers after a long evening of interior design warfare and nothing else.

”Master Navarre.”

Her voice was warm, steady, and perfectly calibrated to sound like a woman who had just happened to run into a colleague in a corridor and found the encounter pleasantly surprising.

Marek turned slowly. His hood was still up. The shadows beneath it made his face look like a skull wearing a polite expression.

”Princess. I didn’t expect anyone at this hour.”

He gave a graceful nod. The kind that came from years of court training and contained exactly the right amount of deference to pass inspection and exactly the wrong amount to mean it.

”I wasn’t aware Solandris still had his men stationed. I was under the impression your delegation left yesterday afternoon.”

”I am the last,” Marek said smoothly. ”Tying up a few loose ends before departure. On my way out, actually.”

Blair gave him a smile so warm it could’ve been a courtesy before a mugging.

”Lovely story. Very tidy.” The warmth drained from her smile. ”My brother might give you the benefit of the doubt, Navarre, because Maddox collects allies the way other men collect debts. He sees potential in people.” She tilted her head by one degree. ”I’m not my brother. What I see is a man inside this Keep after his house had already left in the middle of the night in a corridor that doesn’t lead to diplomat row or guest quarters.”

Marek’s composure held. Hands folded. Full ’I can talk my way out of this’ posture. Cute.

”Your concern is touching, Princess. But I assure you my business here is routine and sanctioned by Lord Solandris himself.”

”I’m sure it is. Speaking of Lord Solandris.” Blair’s voice lowered into something that sounded like customer service for the underworld. ”How is his wife? Lady Solandris. Beautiful woman. Devoted mother. Celebrated across all Houses for her charity work and her loyalty.”

Marek’s hands left ’folded’ and entered ’don’t move.’ Invisible to most people. Loud as a gunshot to Blair.

”She is well, to my knowledge.”

”To your knowledge.” Blair repeated. ”That’s funny, Master Navarre. You would know that the best because you’ve been fucking her since the summer solstice last year.”

The corridor went so silent Blair could hear the torches breathing.

”That’s quite the accusation, Princess,” Marek said carefully.

”It’s quite the position. Several, if the furniture is to be believed. Teethmarks in a chaise leather. A riding crop that wasn’t for horses. You were sloppy one time and didn’t check if the room was empty. A maid was in the closet the entire time. She saw you were face-down, tied, gagged, and didn’t come out because she has seen what House Solandris does to staff who walk in on the wrong room. She banked the memory. I bought the memory. She works for me now.”

Marek’s jaw tightened by a fraction so small most men would have missed it. Blair was not most men. Blair was the understudy who killed the lead and kept the costume.

”You’ve also been purchasing enchanted hair tonic under your dead mother’s name from a fourth-district herbalist whose recipe starts with you on your knees. They bottle what you give them and sell it back to you as confidence. Based on the hair, it’s working. Based on the back-room ledger, you’ve been a repeat ingredient. Lady Solandris isn’t aware of that one.”