Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 145

Chapter 145: Fated, Mated, Way Too Belated

"Type of grandfather you will be," Guinevere repeated. "As in absent or long-lost?"

Her tone did not match the racing thoughts in her mind. Maddox either hadn’t returned to his chambers yet to know she was missing, or he was looking for her. But even if he was, Lord Solandris’s tent would be the last place he would ever check and Marek, without a doubt, would have done something to throw him off her trail.

"You will show respect to a lord, girl," Eron growled, breaking her out of her spiral. "Learn your place."

"He’s had twenty years to be a grandfather and he opened with demons. I think my tone is proportional, Uncle," she replied. "Can I call you uncle?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out, as if the word ’uncle’ had slapped him.

Kael raised his glass. "That looks like a yes to me. Welcome to the family, Uncle Eron."

Eron shook his head once. "I am not your uncle, girl."

"Denial. Textbook new-uncle behavior," Kael said with a solemn nod.

"You’re my grandfather’s brother, which means you are my great-uncle. I didn’t write the family tree. I just climbed it."

"Before I answer that question," Lord Solandris cut in. "I want you to understand something first. Drakencrest has been Solandris’s strongest alliance for thousands of years. One I do not take lightly. And the prophecy is not mine to waive or your father’s to negotiate. It’s as binding as a blood oath."

"Yes, yes we know. You Solandrises love your blood oaths," Kael said. "But most alliances don’t abduct wives."

Lord Solandris ignored him.

"What type of grandfather I will be depends on if you can produce that white light. There’s two ways this can go. First version: I claim you as my granddaughter and you take the crown of Velkaris. Second version: I back you as the Queen of the Luminari, because you are fated to the King of Light. Either way you get a crown, Granddaughter."

The table went dead quiet, the kind of silence that follows a ’oh shit’ moment.

Guinevere didn’t flinch. "That prophecy sounds interesting, and I should love to read about it someday. But here’s the facts."

She held up a finger. "I’ve been in this tent for an hour getting demons thrown at my head specifically because I can’t produce the goddamn white light." Second finger. "My fated mate is Maddox Drakencrest." Third finger. "I merged with his flame ten days after meeting him." Fourth finger. "You are two matemarks too late. My wolf marked him too."

Renwick and Beta Draven’s heads both snapped to Guinevere. She knew that wasn’t common in female wolves. They would survive.

She held up a fifth finger. "I am happily married."

Marek burst out laughing. "Happily married? He didn’t remember who you were for a week."

Guinevere turned her head slowly towards him. "What makes you say that, Marek?"

Lord Solandris held up a hand. "We will get to that, Granddaughter. But we have a few questions first."

Guinevere flashed a smile. "Sure, we’re all family."

"When you marked him," Eron cut in. "How did it change his dragon?"

That was leading a horse to water if Guinevere had ever heard a question.

"It didn’t change his dragon, Uncle. It knocked him out for five minutes. My point is, you are two matemarks, a wedding, a fated matebond, and a flame merging too late to be having this conversation. But even before all of that, I’m letting you know, I don’t have the white magic."

Eron studied her. "You are fated to one of the Drakencrest brothers, obviously. That part was never under debate. The prophecy does not care about that."

"I don’t care about the prophecy so it’s mutual," Guinevere said.

She reached for her glass. Empty. Of course it was. Without giving a single fuck, she grabbed the whiskey and poured herself a generous glass.

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