Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175: Narrate One More Goddamn Thing

Brennan’s first clean portal was, statistically, overdue. He’d been a mage for years. The odds demanded that eventually, just once, everything would go right.

He raised both hands, blue light pooling in his palms.

"Their wards have gotten exponentially better overnight," he commented, fingers tracing invisible architecture in the air, reading a blueprint only he could see. "Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing and had the reserves to do it twice for good measure."

"Can you get through?" Nicholas asked, the gold still fading in and out under his skin.

"Through? No," Brennan replied. "The port harbor sits outside the primary perimeter. I can land us there."

Damon: ’Outside the perimeter’ is his way of saying he found a loophole.

Nicholas: I gathered that.

"Do it," Nicholas said aloud.

"Consider it done, Alpha."

Brennan planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and channeled everything he had.

A portal tore open with clean edges. Stable frame. No smoke, no fire, no secondary explosions. For the first time all day, it looked like Brennan knew what the fuck he was doing.

He stared, failing to hide the ’holy shit’ look on his face, before clearing his throat.

"After you, Alpha."

With great reservation, Nicholas stepped through. Damon followed. Brennan brought up the rear.

They were in a dark alley. The kind where hepatitis thrived, toddlers carried switchblades, and grandmas had criminal records.

The portal closed behind them with a soft hiss.

Damon looked down at his own body. Two arms attached. All fingers accounted for. He looked at Nicholas, who was performing the same silent inventory.

Their eyes met.

The exchange lasted one second and contained the full, unspoken relief of two men who had genuinely been uncertain whether they would arrive at their destination with their original number of body parts.

Damon gave Brennan a single nod. The most approval his face had produced all day.

Brennan received it like a medal.

"Hoods up," Nicholas ordered, pulling his forward.

A full face mask materialized from Brennan’s coat and was on his head before Nicholas finished the word ’hoods.’

Nicholas didn’t notice, already walking.

Ten steps later, he caught a masked serial killer in his peripheral vision.

"WHAT THE—"

He whipped around so fast that Brennan let out a girlish shriek.

Behind him Damon was hunched over, shoulder shaking, like he’d been waiting for that exact scene to play out.

"What the hell is that?" Nicholas snapped.

"I have an extra," Brennan offered. "One for the Beta."

"I would rather be arrested," Damon said.

"Plausible deniability in textile form," Brennan explained, undeterred. "Keeps my identity a secret."

"No shit." Nicholas dragged a hand down his face. "There is no universe where three hooded men, one of whom is wearing THAT, walk into a dragon Keep and are not immediately tackled."

He pulled it off of Brennan’s face and handed it to Damon. "Burn this."

The harbor was busy. The three of them moved through the crowd quickly.

"I can wait here," Brennan offered. "Guard the portal exit. Ensure our retreat is—"

"No." Nicholas kept walking. "You’re my master mage. That means you’re coming."

Brennan’s chest inflated.

The inflation was immediate, involuntary, and so pronounced that Damon watched it happen with the detached fascination of a man observing a bird puff its feathers during a mating display.

"Right." Brennan straightened his spine. Adjusted his coat. Lifted his chin by three degrees. "I am your master mage. So that means I am coming with you. Into the Dragon Keep. Where we are going. Together. As a unit."

"Brennan."

"Yes, Alpha?"

"Stop narrating."

Nicholas: You see that?

Damon: Yup.

Damon: Renwick Lunaris. Hooded. In a merchant quarter. Meeting a dragon lord off the books. Tell me that’s not the most Renwick thing either of us has ever seen.

Nicholas: Lord Falborne is the dragon lord he’s with. Not wearing his house emblem, but I recognize the bastard.

"It’s still happening," Brennan whispered. "I can see the micro-expressions. Something interesting happened. I’m going to need a verbal summary at some point or I’ll start making assumptions, and historically my assumptions are creative and wrong."

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