Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Revenge Dress & King in Cardiac Arrest

Sometimes you just have to hit the FUCK-IT button.

This was one of those times.

Outside of her crown and white dress, all of her clothing was Maddox’s doing, stored in a guest suite she hadn’t entered until she needed a dress for tonight.

The room was generous. Mountain view. A fireplace large enough to heat twice the space. Fresh flowers on a writing desk by the window.

Guinevere took it in. "I should probably face the music and start living here."

"Absolutely not. This is a dress retrieval mission only," Blair snapped. "I’m not losing my roommate to a storage closet with a bed."

The bed was large, covered in pillows, with three black velvet boxes lined up at the foot.

Blair was already opening the smallest before Guinevere finished crossing the room.

"HOLY FUCK."

She snapped it shut, then handed it to Guinevere with a mischievous smile.

Guinevere was already grinning. But when she opened it, her grin fell into a jaw drop.

Inside the box were large gold dangle earrings. Teardrop shaped. Lined with white diamonds with a canary yellow diamond in the center.

"These are beautiful." She looked up at Blair, then back down at the earrings. "The most beautiful set of earrings I’ve ever been gifted, if these are for me."

"Of course they are for you. Unless we are in the wrong room. We’re not."

Blair was already opening the second box. Then she froze. "These just told me to go fuck myself and I thanked them."

Guinevere took the box out of her hands, then looked down to see shoes that matched the earrings.

"Are those diamonds?"

"Yes."

Guinevere lifted the shoe, studied it for two seconds, then pressed it against her chest like a woman reuniting with something she’d lost. "I love it so much. When I die, I want to be buried in these. Understand?"

Blair stared at her. "You’re hugging a shoe."

"I’m aware."

"Fine, but if I die before you, then I get them."

They both reached for the last box with grins on their faces. There was a note on top.

For the woman who told me I had a place in this Keep,

I don’t give gifts, and if anyone asks, I will deny this was me.

- Kael

"Does that say Kael?" Blair asked, already pulling the dress out of the box.

"Yes," Guinevere answered.

"A dress from the wrong brother. Which might be better. Wearing a dress from a husband who doesn’t know you’re his wife is a level of sad I can’t accessorize around."

"I can’t believe he—"

Blair cut her off mid-sentence.

"Oh, this is disgusting. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched. I hate you. Put it on. Actually don’t. I want to have sex with this dress. I’m not kidding. Give me a minute alone with it."

Guinevere looked at the dress. Then the shoes. Then the earrings.

"Fuck it."

✦✦✦

"Are you crying, Blair?"

"No," she snapped. "I created a monster. I’m so proud."

Crimson silk. Off the shoulders, floor-length, fitted tight enough to leave almost nothing and just enough to make a man look twice to be sure. There were dresses that showed more skin, but something about this dress made it feel more intimate.

Large gold earrings dangled heavy from her ears, catching the firelight every time she turned her head. Her white hair fell in loose curls past her waist, brushing the curve of her hips, shifting gold where the candles touched it.

"I’m going to need you to walk slower than me so I don’t have to stand next to you looking like the before portrait."

"Agreed," Guinevere replied. "I look good. If I weren’t already married, I’d shoot my shot."

Blair caught her elbow and spun her a half-step so they were face-to-face while still walking. "Oh, now she remembers she’s dangerous. Somebody warn the lords."

She spun Guinevere back around mid-step and linked their arms without asking. Walking formation. Non-negotiable.

They turned the corner. Still arm in arm, they began to descend the staircase to the Great Hall, entering the room the way a lit match enters oil.

BALLROOM 1: Do It Again (She Fucking Did)

The music didn’t stop. But every conversation died mid-word. Champagne flutes paused mid-lift. A woman grabbed her husband’s jaw and turned it forward. He turned it back.

The torches in the hall went out, then roared back to life with gold flame, while runes on the walls and columns lit around the staircase where they walked.

Someone near the back dropped their drink, glass exploding.

Blair gave Guinevere a flat look. "You absolutely did that on purpose."

"Did what?"

Guinevere’s lips twitched. Then she looked up and noticed all of the stunned faces. Whoops.

"I might have overdone that."

"You think," Blair hissed. "You’re not sorry though."

BALLROOM 2: The Glow Job

BALLROOM 3: Twelve Steps Before the Next Dickstorm

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