Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Dragon Daddy & The Discount Mage

The mage wanted her, and she was going to let him have her.

STEP ONE: Run the opposite direction of Blair at full speed with two broken ribs.

STEP TWO: Be as subtle as a signal flare.

"This way, sir. Try to keep up."

Guinevere snapped every branch like a drunk elk, the mage chasing after her. She didn’t see any others. Either they were flanking her or they were still attending to their dicks.

STEP THREE: Figure out the rest while running.

There was no rest. There was running and there was getting caught and the only thing between them was whatever her legs had left.

Two soldiers came out of the trees. She spun with her stolen blade and opened the first one’s forearm before he could grab her.

"Fuck. She fights like a feral cat in a bag."

The one she’d cut caught her by the arms, blood from his forearm smearing across her suit. His grip was furious.

"Easy. Gods, she’s still swinging."

They shoved her through the trees and down to her knees at the center of the clearing, where the masked mage was waiting.

The mage took a lock of her hair between two gloved fingers and rolled it in the sunlight the way a jeweler rolls a stone towards a lamp.

"White hair on the dragon continent. You are either from Solandris, doubtful. Or you are very lost and expensive. Which is it?"

Guinevere lifted her chin, looking at his mask. No eyeholes. Bold design choice.

Her ribs and right hand were throbbing with her pulse and she tasted blood. She was in no position to do anything but cooperate. But her mouth had other plans and what came out was not strategic.

"I can’t tell if we’re making eye contact, or how you can see, for that matter. Either you’re blind or lost a bet. Which is it?

"There was nothing but silence for three full seconds. Then he tilted his head like a dog hearing a frequency it didn’t expect, then turned his head towards a man who just emerged from the treeline.

"Is this her?"

"That’s the one. She dropped two of mine back there. Broke Varek’s nose. Took Hollis’s dignity."

"Did she now."

"In fairness, Varek’s nose had a crooked future ahead of it regardless. I gave it a much-needed correction. And Hollis’s dignity was a preexisting condition before I showed up."

Behind her, one of the soldiers laughed, then turned it into a cough.

"For someone playing with dark magic, your recruitment pipeline is a bottom-tier, clearance bin tragedy. And that villain aesthetic you’re going for is, frankly, the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen this week. A high bar you cleared with flying colors."

The mage’s posture stiffened. A small warm spark of joy lit in the cold pit of her chest. Worth it. Possibly fatal.

"Why you little—"

She cut him off. "Original. Truly. Why you little. Haven’t heard that one before."

There was a sound of wings from above, and a black dragon dropped into the clearing.

He shifted to human form as soon as he landed, already walking towards her.

He was tall. Not Maddox tall, but close. Dark hair, sharp features, a face that suggested old blood and older money.

Ignoring the mage entirely, he reached down taking the exact same lock of hair he was holding. The mage let go.

Guinevere looked at the mage, then back at the dragon. Pecking order established.

"Well." His voice was low and amused. "Things just got interesting."

He tilted her chin up with one finger. His eyes were the color of old iron.

"What are you."

Guinevere held his gaze. "I’m a servant."

He laughed. Actually laughed. It was a rich, delighted sound, and it chilled her more than the mage had.

"Not what I was asking. But please, insult my intelligence a little more, I’m enjoying it." He let her chin go and straightened. "Servants don’t drop armored men in under a minute. Servants don’t have a scent I can’t place on two continents. Try again."

"Upper ward laundry." Guinevere’s voice was flat. "The hours are brutal. The benefits are worse."

His mouth curved.

"Bind her."

They hauled her to her feet. One of the soldiers produced a length of rope from inside his cloak and stepped behind her. She didn’t flinch when they tied her wrists with cord that bit into already raw skin.

CRACK.

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