Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 380

Chapter 380: Cute Little Formation, Boys

"Kael Ashenvale." She turned to the column. "Ten. Obviously. Self-aware about it, which drops him to a nine. The self-awareness is a performance, which bumps him back to a ten. The performance is hiding something genuine, which makes him an eleven, but I’m capping the scale at ten because his ego already is an issue."

Kael’s face gave her nothing.

"The dumb one." She squinted. "Six. Generous six. But he’s got cute energy and a jawline that’s doing more work than the rest of him combined, so I’ll bump him up to a seven. He also tried to slow clap earlier, which tells me his instincts are right even when his brain is on a lunch break. That’s endearing. Don’t let anyone beat it out of him."

Griffin mouthed "seven" at Ryker with pride on his face.

"The wolves I don’t know." She glanced at Nicholas and Damon. "Can’t rate what I haven’t researched. I have professional standards."

"Who sent you, Emma?" Blair tried again. Third attempt.

Emma sucked air through her teeth. "I love that you keep circling back. Tenacity. That’s a Drakencrest trait. Your brother has it too. Different flavor. His is more I will burn the world. Yours is more I will organize the world and then burn it. Superior approach, in my opinion."

"Emma."

"Fine. But first." She held up a finger. "The nautical theme. We need to discuss."

Blair’s eye twitched.

"The navy was brave. Too cold for Kael’s coloring, but brave. The man reads grey-blue. Warm silver. Storm-adjacent. You dressed his room like a winter coastline when he’s an autumn forge and the dissonance has been keeping me up at night. I rearranged the accent pillows twice to compensate and YOU MOVED THEM BACK and I had to pretend I didn’t notice and it almost broke me as a person." She pressed a hand to her chest. "The white bedding was flawless. I wept internally. The anchor motifs were a choice so specific and so correct that I had to excuse myself from the room and walk a corridor to process. The rope detailing on the curtain ties? I would have gone fringe. Fringe would have been wrong. You went rope. I am devastated by how right rope was." Her voice dropped. "But the throw pillows mixed thread counts and I would rather DIE than let you walk out of this conversation without knowing that. Four hundred against two-eighty. It’s a crime. The afternoon light will expose you in seventy-two hours. I’ve been counting."

Blair’s jaw tightened by a millimeter.

"Also," Emma added, "I have the rug."

"You have Gerald?"

"Of course I do," Emma laughed. "Gerald is mine now."

"Emma." Blair’s voice dropped into the register that preceded buckets, pokers, and career-ending decisions. "You have given me nothing. You are stalling."

The playfulness drained from Emma’s face. The transition was instant. The smile didn’t fade. It was removed. Pulled off like a mask that had served its purpose, and what sat underneath was still and quiet and sharp in a way that the performance had been designed to obscure.

"Fine." Emma’s voice leveled. "You should check on your girl."

Blair went still.

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