Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Betrayed Six Goddamn Ways To Sunday

Maddox’s dragon, which had been purring two seconds ago, went silent. The kind of silent that preceded forest fires and regime changes.

"Repeat that."

Two words. Delivered with the temperature of a man who had heard exactly what she said and was giving her one chance to tell him he was wrong.

She opened her mouth, trying to find the right words that didn’t include brother and orgasm in the same sentence.

"I s-saw him in here."

The conclusion was already on his face, and the damage was already spreading through the matebond in both directions. He pulled out of her without a word and not gently. She winced, her body hurting.

Without looking at her, he stood, water running down his body. He stepped out of the tub, grabbed a cloth, and wrapped it around his waist.

Then he walked towards the door.

"Maddox, wait. I saw him in the d-d-doorway. He was standing right there."

He stopped. His hand was on the doorframe. He didn’t turn around.

"The door has been closed since I carried you in here, Guinevere. No one has opened it."

The sentence sat between them. Either she had hallucinated his half-brother mid-orgasm, or Kael Ashenvale had breached Drakencrest Keep’s wards for the second time and was watching her in the king’s private chambers.

Neither option was good.

Guinevere rubbed her face with her hands, the tears falling on their own. The amount of self-directed frustration she had at the moment was unhealthy and probably irrational and she knew it. But it was still there.

She got out of the marble tub, her entire body trembling because she was dehydrated and gods know what else.

Maddox had already left the room.

The moon was in the sky and she wasn’t sure how many days she’d been unconscious.

But she knew one thing for certain, she couldn’t stand being in this room a second longer. She put on a zip suit, letting her hair fall in damp waves.

Her reflection in the mirror looked like a ghost who’d been crying in a bathtub. Which was, unfortunately, accurate.

Then she noticed a faint mark on her neck. Maddox’s was there, but there was a silver one layered on top of it.

She blinked a few times studying it. It was still bruised and fresh.

Then she remembered Maddox had marked her when she woke up the first time having sex.

Maybe marking twice leaves a second one. Wolves don’t typically do that but dragons must be different.

Noted.

She was on her way out when she noticed the door of Maddox’s personal study was open. It was attached to their chambers and always closed.

Curiosity won before common sense.

Snooping was wrong. It was also the only productive thing she’d done since waking up, so she was going to lean into it.

LETTER ONE:

Your Majesty. The council has prepared a shortlist of eligible high-blood women. All three candidates carry confirmed dragon bloodlines, established house backing, and rider certification. Per our discussion, the introduction dinner can be arranged at your—

Guinevere stopped reading mid-sentence. She knew it was coming, but seeing it in writing was something else. She had known since the night her father sold her to dragons that the cards would be stacked in this direction. That was the math.

"I still hoped..." her voice cracked. She wiped her eyes.

Hope was a cruel word to say out loud in an empty room.

Sold to dragons. Found letters about replacement women because she wasn’t queen material. Moaned the wrong name during sex. If this wasn’t a fairy tale, then she didn’t know what was.

That’s when she caught the Lunaris seal.

LETTER TWO:

Drakencrest. Where is my daughter. This is my second letter. There won’t be a third.

Lunaris writing "where is my daughter" didn’t mean he cared. It meant someone had moved a piece on his board without asking. Her breath caught.

Why hadn’t Maddox mentioned this?

LETTER THREE:

Maddox.

My thighs are bruised in the best way. Are you sore? Good. You should be after what you did to me.

But I’ve heard rumors about a girl from Nyros. I’m going to assume that’s political and not personal, because the alternative would mean you replaced me without a conversation. You told me you loved me, Maddox. We have history. The kind that doesn’t disappear overnight.

If I’m wrong, come tell me yourself. I’ll wear the red one. You know which. If I’m right, you owe me a goodbye, and you know how I like those.

- Emma

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