Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 89

Chapter 89: There’s Nothing Quite Like Being Seen

There is a specific distance a woman walks after saying goodbye to a man she doesn’t want to lose before the composure gives out.

Four corridors. Two staircases. One door she didn’t remember opening.

She found herself in a sitting room. Two chairs. A cold hearth. An unused fireplace. The kind of room that existed in every castle for no clear purpose because an architect a thousand years ago needed to fill a corner.

She closed the door behind her and let the tears fall. She wasn’t sure how long it had been. She stared at a dusty mantel seeing nothing.

The mantel stared back with the indifference of furniture that had witnessed centuries of people having emotional breakdowns in this room because they thought it was private.

The tears had no right to be there. Nicholas was doing what a king was supposed to do, and the grief sitting behind her ribs was unearned, selfish, and wrong.

Maybe it was the wolf in her. Maybe it was the homesickness that had been building since the day she arrived, the ache for a place that spoke her language even when that place had never been kind to her.

Missing a place that hurt you was a particular brand of stupid that only wolves understood, and her wolf understood it fluently.

"Guinevere," Kael said in the doorway.

She startled at her name, but did not turn. "This isn’t the best time right now, Kael."

Of all the people in this Keep, the man who found her secret crying room was Kael Ashenvale.

Kael entered the room fully, because of course he did. He closed the door behind him softly.

Boundaries were a concept he understood intellectually and ignored intentionally.

"Guinevere, look at me."

He said it the way he said most things. Like a command wrapped in a suggestion dipped in audacity.

Looking at him would mean showing him her face, and her face was currently committing treason against her dignity.

She kept her face toward the cold hearth.

"Is it because the wolf king is leaving?"

The question was as subtle as a brick through a window. Classic Kael.

She didn’t answer right away. Her breath came in slow, controlled, the measured cadence of a woman deciding how much truth a room could hold.

"I have never felt less welcome," she said, "than I have since arriving here."

She heard herself say it and immediately wanted to retract it, because saying it out loud gave it a weight she had been carefully avoiding.

Kael took one of the two chairs by the cold hearth and settled into it with ease.

"The day I found you in the forest." His voice shifted into a lower register. "Was that your first day here?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes, not looking at him.

That she had looked at every version of him, the version that had cornered her in a forest, the version that sat in this chair without excuses, the version that couldn’t find words, and decided that the sum of those versions was still worth keeping.

He stood. Opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

He swallowed. Tried again. Failed again. Kael failing twice at anything was unprecedented.

It was the quiet of being seen by someone and discovering in real time that he had no protocol for that.

He turned, and stopped at the door without looking back. Looking back would mean she would see his face, and his face was currently doing things he had not authorized.

"If I do something right for once, it’s because of this conversation. I will deny it."

He left. The corridor stretched ahead of him. Quiet. Empty.

His boots echoed. He hated the sound because it meant there was no one around to perform for, and without an audience, the only person left to lie to was himself.

You have a spot here.

Five words from a woman who had every reason to tell him he was worthless, and instead she handed him something he hadn’t earned and couldn’t return.

He stopped. Stood still for five seconds, which was four seconds longer than Kael Ashenvale stood still for anything.

Then he turned around.