Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 201

Chapter 201: Showtime, Motherfuckers

DRAKENCREST - HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBER

These forty dragon lords had insulted her best friend one too many times.

Blair Drakencrest was going to fix the realm’s leadership problem the old-fashioned way.

Maddox was above this. He was a fair, good king. Blair respected that about her brother. She was not Maddox. Being the villain was fine if it meant she got what she wanted. Winning was winning.

She took her seat at the head of the table. The chair was too big for her. She didn’t adjust. She sat in it like she’d been born there and the chair had the goddamn privilege of holding her.

"This is what we’ve come to. The Dragon King disappears and sends his little sister to hold court. This is a waste of my time?" Lord Falborne snapped. His voice had the unique quality of making everyone in the room dumber by three IQ points per sentence.

"The whole Command is gone," Lord Daine replied loud for the table. "First, Second, Third, and Fourth. All absent when we are being attacked as we speak by Dark Fae."

Such a dumbass. He said it as if she’d personally sent the Command away and penciled in "Dark Fae invasion." The man had the strategic reasoning of a potato and the volume of a town crier.

Blair raised her hand.

The table went silent.

Not quiet. Silent. Better executed than Maddox and Kael combined. She would make sure they found that out.

She waited for all of their eyes. The temperature dropped by fifteen degrees.

Good. Let them freeze. Cold rooms produced compliant men and compliant men produced results.

Showtime.

She lowered her hand, and turned to her first victim. "Lord Falborne. Your squire is your bastard. That monthly payment labeled ’horse breeding’? Cute."

Falborne’s face lost its color the way a candle loses flame. He opened his mouth, but before anything came out, Blair had moved on. Next.

"Lord Daine. You’ve been fucking Lord Thornvale’s wife for months. The newest location being Diplomat Row, with the acoustic discretion of a barn animal."

Daine went white. Thornvale’s head snapped towards the younger lord, eyes glowing.

"How dare you—" Lord Daine started to say. Blair held up her hand, not sparing him a glance.

"Lord Holt. You embezzled two million gold and your cousin has been warming your bed in exchange to overlook it. She is pregnant with your child, by the way. Ask her."

Holt’s hand went very still. Poor guy. Just kidding, sympathy was for men who didn’t embezzle two million gold and then fuck their cousins about it.

"Strike that from the record," Holt snapped.

"Don’t strike. Direct order," Blair commanded without looking at Drystan.

Thornvale let out a sound that was either a cough or a laugh. At eighty, the distinction was academic.

"Lord Voss," she continued lightly. "You pay a woman in the lower city to bend you over and take a riding crop to you until you’re shaking. Commands. The whole package. I know the nights you go. I know what you ask for. And I know how much you pay to be called ’good boy.’"

Voss’s face twisted in outrage. Next to him, Lord Novan snickered.

"Lord Novan. You bribed three lords last council session to vote your way. They know who they are. You also had a spy in Drakencrest for the last eighteen months. They now work for me."

One corner of his mouth twitched. Rage or respect? Blair didn’t give a flying fuck. The man was clearly having both.

"Lord Keltis." She turned. "That prototype weapon in your lower forge? Cute. Unpaid tariffs. Also, a serious design flaw and I’m not the only person who knows it. It’s currently as useful as a child’s toy."

Keltis opened his mouth, closed it, and then did something nobody expected. He laughed. A short, impressed bark that he immediately smothered behind his fist.

"Lord Lanthos." She arrived at the smallest lord at the table. "You are the only Lord at this table that I have nothing on. Which either means you’re clean, or you’re better at hiding things than everyone else in this room. Both options concern me equally."

Lanthos raised his goblet a fraction. "I’m flattered, my lady."

"Don’t be. I’m still looking."

She stood. "We are battle-planning."

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