Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

SOLVEIL IMMERSIVE CULTURAL TIMESHARE

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”Thank you, Michael,” Guinevere said, taking the box of her things from the officer. ”And congratulations again on the baby. I think Emily is a beautiful name.”

”Thank you, Guinevere,” Michael replied, cheerfully. ”I am going to speak with my brother, like you said.”

”I am so happy for you. The apology doesn’t have to be perfect. Your brother will appreciate the effort more than the words.” She unzipped her grey jumpsuit and stepped out of it without removing her boots. Underneath the jumpsuit were the silk pajamas she had on when she fell asleep in Maddox’s arms.

”Your positive review went through, by the way.” Michael glanced at the three guards behind him. All of them nodded. ”First ones this facility has ever received. We all now have gold stars on our files.”

”That is fantastic.” She put her cloak on over the pajamas and flashed Michael a grin. ”Does your facility have an alumni network? I want to stay connected with the people I met during my rehabilitation journey.”

Landon looked at the fitting room door three feet to her right. Looked at Guinevere, who had just stripped in a briefing room full of people. Looked at the fitting room door again.

Blair shrugged. ”I would have missed it too. That sign is confusing.”

Damon reached for Blair’s hood without a word, pulling it over her head, his fingers gathering the dark hair that had fallen loose during the lap incident and tucking it beneath the fabric. The gesture was identical to the one he’d done in the alley. Same hands. Same efficiency. Same extra second on the fabric near her jaw that he was going to keep pretending was accidental.

Kael watched this from six feet away. His mouth opened. His mouth closed. His mouth stayed closed because he too would have put Blair’s hood up.

They moved through the processing corridor toward the exit. Guinevere stopped at the intake desk, where a few officers stood, including Roger, who had given her that book.

”Thank you for your hospitality during my stay, Roger. I genuinely enjoyed the experience and I will be recommending your facility to anyone I know who requires incarceration.”

The officer stared at her. Behind him, three guards who had been on rotation were standing in a loose cluster, watching her leave with the expressions of men who had been working in this building for years and had never once been sad to see a prisoner go and were currently processing an emotion they were unfamiliar with.

Roger gave a single nod. ”The pleasure was ours, Your Highness.”

They made it four more steps. She stopped again. The stopping was becoming a pattern and the group had apparently accepted it the way a man accepts weather.

Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. ”Guinevere. The exit is forty feet away. You have said goodbye to eleven people in the last six feet. At this rate we will be released by next winter.”

”I understand that reentry into mainstream society after incarceration can be overwhelming, Kael. Take the time you need to decompress. Your feelings are valid. You can wait outside. I’ll be right there.”

Kael’s brain short-circuited at that statement. His mouth opened, about to remind her they were incarcerated for eight hours, and there were no feelings to be had on his end, and to tell her that none of that statement is allowed to come out of her mouth ever again, when Guinevere had already turned to face Landon.

Landon was already reaching for her. Like she was his to reach for. Kael’s dragon grumbled under his ribs.

”King Solveil,” she began. ”During my previous visit to your land, several of your citizens were arrested for intervening when they perceived a threat at a hydration gathering space. They thought they were being robbed and that I was in danger, and they intervened on my behalf at great personal cost. All of them were arrested and are now incarcerated for protecting a stranger on their land when they had every reason not to. I have gotten to know them during my stay and can personally vouch for their character. They have been serving time for bravery, which I understand may be standard in your justice framework, but I would like to advocate for their release.”

Landon looked down at her, his brows drawing together. Light flooded from him into her, immediate and warm, settling through her body like sunlight through water. Something shifted behind his eyes. Then he gave a knowing nod, like the light had translated what she was trying to say.

He turned his head toward the nearest Kingsguard officer. No words were needed.

The officer’s throat bobbed once. His eyes flicked to the intake counter, to the officer behind it, to the corridor, to anywhere that was not the face of his sovereign asking him to explain something he had been hoping nobody would ever explain.

”Your Majesty,” he began, his voice carefully selecting each word like footsteps through a minefield. ”On the evening in question, Commander Veyron deployed an undercover unit to locate the person of interest inside a tavern on the eastern concourse. The operation was conducted under the Commander’s direct authority.”

”Continue,” Landon said.

The officer continued. He did not want to continue. Every syllable that left his mouth was a syllable he wished he could put back.

”The undercover officers entered the establishment without identifying themselves. They consumed several rounds of ale to maintain their cover. When they attempted to apprehend the person of interest, a civilian confrontation escalated. A woman struck an officer with her bag. An elderly man struck another with a cooking implement. Several patrons formed a barricade. Commander Veyron arrived on scene and ordered the arrest of the entire establishment.”

”The entire establishment,” Landon repeated.

”Yes, Your Majesty.”

”How many civilians?”

”Twenty-three, Your Majesty.”

”Twenty-three civilians were arrested for defending an unarmed woman in a bar.”

”On Commander Veyron’s orders, Your Majesty. The charges are obstruction, assault on Kingsguard officers, and interference with a sanctioned operation.” He paused. Swallowed. ”And whatever the elderly man did with the pan. And a woman with her purse.”

”A purse,” Landon repeated flatly.

”Yes, Your Majesty. Used in what the defendant described as self-defense. They believed the establishment was being robbed.”

”Why would they believe that?”

The officer’s eyes found the ceiling. The ceiling, as always, had nothing to offer.

”Because the officers did not show their badges, Your Majesty. The civilians assumed it was an armed robbery. Commander Veyron later confirmed that the pre-operation brief included a directive to display credentials upon contact. The directive was not followed.”