Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147: Second-Hand Embarrassment, Your Radiance

Every story she’d heard said this was the part where your ribs split open and your soul screamed. She braced for pain, for the severing, for whatever it felt like when a matebond ripped in half.

Nothing.

The stunned silence was so complete that if someone had dropped a pin, the pin would have been embarrassed by how loud it was.

Then without a word, Renwick finished his whiskey, with the faintest trace of amusement on his face. Beta Draven poured him another. Neither made eye contact with her.

"Did it work?" she asked no one.

"No," everyone said at once.

Unanimous. The only thing this tent had agreed on in four hours was that her rejection didn’t work. The universe, apparently, considered her rejection for approximately zero seconds and declined to process it.

Interesting. She racked her brain for what else she knew about severing a matebond. Then it hit her: Fate didn’t recognize Lunaris anymore because she was married.

"I, Guinevere Drakencrest, reject the King of Light as my fated mate."

She braced again.

Nothing.

"Still wrong," Marek commented, thoroughly enjoying watching her fail at something.

Beta Draven dragged his hand down his face, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

"Does anyone care to share where I am incorrect?" she asked.

"You need his birth name," Marek replied. "His real name. What you just rejected was a job title. That’s like breaking up by yelling at his business card."

Kael closed his eyes. "I have second-hand embarrassment from you right now, Wolf Girl."

The king flashed a grin. "I can tell you my name, if you’d like. Say please."

Guinevere kept her expression neutral, then turned to face the attractive, glowing king. "That would be helpful."

He flashed a perfect smile, but did not answer. Instead, the king moved in a blur crossing the tent, faster than Alpha speed and dragon speed stacked on top of each other.

When he reached out to touch her, Kael’s hand shot in between.

"She’s been touched enough for one night." His dragon rumbled in his chest loud enough for the tent to hear.

He shrugged. "It’s a compliment in dragon."

Guinevere’s lips twitched at that. If Maddox were here, he would hate that Kael used his line. He had said that to her the night before. She made a mental note to never mention it.

The King regarded Kael, almost amused, with the mild curiosity of a god cataloguing an insect.

"Are you her protector, Light Bearer?"

"Protector, yes. Light Bearer, no."

"Then you should know, Light Bearer," the king said, gaze sliding back to Guinevere, "that something is hurting her, and I am going to remove it before it does permanent damage."

Kael’s jaw tightened.

"It’s really alright," Guinevere offered, palm half-raised. "There’s no need—"

The king was already touching her back through her cloak. A brutal pull slammed under her ribs, yanking upward and stealing her breath. She folded forward.

A burn she hadn’t realized was still eating at her, cooled, gone.

"That was helpful. Thank you," she panted, forcing herself to straighten.

"There are more, but that was the largest one I could feel from across the room." The king’s attention shifted above her head to the men standing. "Why is dark magic in her?"

"Marek was casting dark magic on her," Kael answered with no hesitation. "Hung a jester demon over her bed in the middle of the night. Real gentleman. He won’t apologize for it, either."

"I did not," Marek snapped, wounded to his professional core. "The dark magic was already in her, Dragon. I pulled from what was there."

The radiant king caught Marek’s expression, and missed Kael’s face in response, which said: Damn right.

Kael looked around the table, face completely straight. "Hear that? Strong light." He pointed at himself. "This sexy bastard."

The King of Light threw his head back and laughed.

Across the table, every single face glared at Kael, irritated as hell.

"Yes, young Light Bearer. Dark magic is blocking part of it, and the rest was never drawn out or trained. Your people had a Light Bearer under their own roof and let the light be covered. That failure is theirs, not yours. I can help undo part of what they let happen to you."

"Undo," Kael repeated, and for once the smart remark loaded and did not fire.

"Yes," the king confirmed. "Your own house did that to you."

Kael nodded. "Fair enough. Careful, Your Radiance. Say two more nice things and I’ll follow you home like a stray. Now finish the sentence about the dark magic in her before I start liking you on purpose."

The king had already stopped listening. He looked down at Guinevere, and his voice dropped into something with iron under the gold.

"No one will touch you again."

"Is she the one?" Eron asked.

The King of Light’s eyes flared bright, blinding white.

Guinevere’s hand rose. She had not told it to. Warmth flooded up through her wrist and into her chest, foreign and pulling and certain, a tide with a destination that was not hers.

Then her flame surged.

It came up hard and hot from somewhere deeper than the borrowed warmth, smothered the pull in a breath, and dropped her hand back to her side like a slammed door.

The feel of it was strange and familiar at once. Different than Maddox channeling flame into her, yet exactly the same.

The king frowned.

Guinevere blinked, stunned, then glanced at Kael. His throat worked once as a single bead of sweat tracked down his temple.