Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Savage (Classy, Bougie, Ratchet)

Maybe it was a wolf king bandaging her palms at four in the morning.

Maybe it was the camisole and shorts that had been in the running for her favorite pajamas and were now last place.

Maybe it was the third in command helpfully listing all the ways she was not good for Maddox politically, just in case she hadn’t considered it on her own.

Whatever it was, the amount of fucks given by Guinevere Lunaris was now freshly out of stock.

Heartbroken? Yes.

Dignity? Presume dead.

A bad bitch? On her way.

Ryker leaned back in a chair inside the preparation tent, watching her.

"Congratulations, Gwen. You’ve been assigned the best dragon on this field." He tapped his chest. "This guy."

Blair started laughing.

Guinevere looked at her. "What?"

"You are about to make him look good."

"She is," Ryker agreed without any shame. "Skyrunner good."

Damon abandoned the bow rack he was looking at. "Walk me through this. What’s a skyrunner?"

"Happy to." Ryker turned to them, and held up two fingers. "Two types of courses. First is the standard. One rider. One dragon. Three laps. To get combat-cleared, you need eighty percent accuracy in under ten minutes. Average riders do it in eight, nine minutes. Competitive riders push five. Maddox’s record is three minutes flat."

Ryker cracked his neck. "But nobody gives a fuck about that. Kiddie pool. Skyrunner is what separates the boys from the men." He glanced at Guinevere. "I heard it. I don’t hate it. I’m keeping it."

He turned back to Damon. "Second type of course has six dragons. Seven laps. Higher difficulty. Combat-ready time is twenty-three minutes. Maddox’s record is six minutes forty-five seconds."

Nicholas looked at Guinevere. "And you’re running this today."

His voice was level. The tendons in his neck were not.

"She’s not running it. She’s breaking it." Ryker stood. Stretched. Pointed at Nicholas. "Breathe. I mean it." Pointed at Guinevere. "Don’t be late. I’m the red one."

Then he backed out of the tent with finger guns, which should have been beneath the Second in Command but was not because Ryker had discovered the power of hand gestures and there was no going back.

Blair dropped her voice so only Guinevere and the two wolves eavesdropping could hear.

"Listen to me. I don’t care if you rip your hands open again or light this goddamn field on fire. You are going to beat Maddox’s time by at least ten seconds."

The corners of Guinevere’s mouth curved. "I’ll get it done."

"Good. And we are still giving Sterling the cold shoulder until I say otherwise. At least a day." She clapped her hands twice. "Bitch face back on."

"When you tell me to do that it makes me smile."

"Stop smiling."

Guinevere walked to the bow rack in the back where Nicholas stood, grabbing one absentmindedly.

"Guinevere."

She looked up at him.

His face had softened into something that clearly read: she’s forgotten her arrows and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

He tipped his chin toward the quiver rack. "Don’t you need a quiver?"

"No."

He processed ’no’ for three seconds longer than any single syllable should require.

She didn’t notice, because she was too busy pulling her hair back.

Blair watched her hands like a hawk, then grabbed her wrist mid-ponytail. "Stop. Stop. STOP. Damon. Nicholas. Someone. Restrain her."

She took Guinevere’s hands, and placed them at her sides. "Stay. Good girl"

Blair said it like she was training a puppy.

Guinevere’s lips twitched. "You know, most wolves would be offended by that."

"Most wolves didn’t marry my brother and become my personal dress-up doll. You did. Consequences, Gwen."

Blair yanked the ponytail through in one motion. "There. Put your bitch face back on. Right now."

She linked her arm through Guinevere’s and steered them towards the tent flap. The wolves followed.

"You look like sex on a dragon and I refuse to apologize for saying that," she said flatly.

Damon made a sound that was technically a cough.

"If I wasn’t straight," she added. "I’d be a problem for you right now."

"Blair."

"I said what I said. I’d do you."

"BLAIR."

Behind them, Nicholas’s face was stone.

Just as they exited the tent, two hundred fists struck their chests in unison. Every Drakencrest soldier within visual range was saluting her. The look on all of their faces was pride. Something she wasn’t expecting.

It meant more to her than they probably realized. She blinked twice. Fast. The kind of fast that keeps things from falling. She wanted to make them proud.

Ryker: Where the hell has that been?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify