Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 226

Chapter 226: If It Ain’t Got A Pocket, Block It

A grenade juggling hypocrite sheep walked into a wall of testosterone and her first instinct was to roast the flock.

Little did the flock know, twenty-three minutes prior, while sons played throat-roulette and dragons roamed free, that hypocrite sheep was full-on talking to herself.

She was having a heart-to-heart with herself, actually.

DOMINO 18: HOT-ASS MESS TO COLD-ASS CHESS

GREYHALL CROSSING - 7:27 PM

She scrubbed hair and body at lightspeed.

"Twenty minutes to turn from a hot-ass mess into cold-ass chess, Guinevere. Move."

Yes, she had been verbally processing. It was helping.

First aid kit in the bathing chamber. Fresh bandages over the lashes that had lost their cover in her bathing speedrun.

That’s when she noticed a dark mark forming under her ribs. It looked exactly like a bruise, which tracked considering she was sore as fuck.

"Add it to the list."

Bathrobe on. Hair down and drying.

Time to make the most important decision of all.

Two versions of herself lay out on the bed. Which one was getting thrown into the council meat grinder?

RIGHT SIDE:

Guinevere the demon-rider.

Squire attire.

It would communicate either, ’I have no armor but am trying to look like my men so I am dressed in squire clothes’ OR ’I don’t need goddamn armor because I’m that confident.’

PROS: It matched her men better. She could actually move in the damn thing if shit went sideways.

CONS: Socially a bigger gamble. Even if they bought the confidence angle instead of the squire costume, there was a 100% chance that it would offend at least one Alpha.

LEFT SIDE:

Guinevere the underestimated princess who will absolutely exploit that.

Favorite dress.

Deep Lunaris green. Perfect Alpha’s-daughter camouflage. It said ’I am harmless and only here because Daddy couldn’t make it.’

PROS: The smart option socially. It looked good and didn’t hurt her lashes. Perfect for being underestimated and invisible.

CONS: The dumb choice if they were attacked or if she needed to move with any urgency whatsoever.

Both options were valid. Both were dangerous. Both were judging her from the bed.

This shouldn’t have been this hard. And yet.

That’s when she remembered the token. The dress had no pockets so that meant she’d have to carry it or give it to Gavyn.

Decision locked.

VERDICT:

Guinevere the demon-rider and leader of the goddamn arrow tip formation.

Squire attire took the win.

Yes, the pockets are what decided it. No, it wasn’t because she’d come too damn far to play it safe, or because she’d earned the right to dress like her men, or that the Alphas could sit the fuck down.

The pockets.

"Life is too short not to have them," she announced to herself.

Then she eyed the stand. Cassian’s armor would hang on her like a kid playing dress up.

"Nope. Next."

The green cape was another story entirely. It would also be huge on her. But it was the single most politically loaded piece of fabric in the room.

It was supposed to stop above the knees on Cassian. On her, it would fit like a cloak, which was doable.

Fuck it. Decision locked.

"Borrowing this, thank you, Cassian."

Cassian’s blade was huge and would take effort not to fidget with. Today was not the day for that.

"No thank you."

Cassian’s crown. This one she recognized. A gift from their father to him. She wasn’t going to disrespect that, differences or not. Also, his head was fucking huge.

She had her mother’s crown anyways. No brainer. Done.

Squire Attire: On. Pockets = the real MVP.

Alpha-Cape: Check. Rebranded as the princess cloak.

Alpha Signet Ring: On a chain, tucked under the clothes.

Hair: Solid 8 out of 10. Damp, loose curls down to her waist.

Crown: Seated.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify