Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Dungeons were dark, cold, and scary as hell. Most people stayed the fuck out for good reason. A princess in her right mind definitely wouldn’t make a special trip down there for the brother who whipped her the night before.

The guard posts were empty. Abandoned mid-shift. Whoever had been down here heard the chaos above and decided babysitting a dungeon wasn’t worth the hazard pay.

"C-Cassian?" Her stutter punched in like it never left.

She walked down the dark corridor of cells that smelled like isolation with a side of talking to yourself.

"C-Cas-Cas—"

She cut herself off. Motherfucker. Reset. Took a breath.

"Cassian?" There it was.

Just kidding.

A blood-streaked hand shot through the bars and seized her wrist.

"HELP ME. THEY’RE EATING US FROM THE INSIDE OUT. I CAN FEEL THEM MOVING UNDER MY SKIN. LET US OUT. LET US OUT BEFORE THEY FINISH."

Guinevere screamed and wrenched her arm free.

A second figure in the cell launched across the bars at her. "We already told them you were coming. They want your blood!"

She stumbled away from him, and her back hit the iron bars on the opposite side.

Two hands closed around her neck from behind. A second scream came from her mouth automatically. Her heart was jackhammering, her lungs were not filling, and the panic was way too high for a barred-cell scenario. The strangler behind her was the wildcard.

"Hello, little sister."

Her brain helpfully supplied the single most useless thought possible: That is Cassian.

A prisoner across the way raised a hand like he was in class. "Not to interrupt the murder, but some of us have bets going. Before you finish the job. Why is the princess in the dungeon?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE ENTERTAINMENT TO YOU?" Cassian barked.

There was a brief pause, then, from three cells down, "Yes, you do. Don’t sell yourself short. Honestly, you’ve got natural stage presence."

Cassian ignored him with the discipline of a man who could only murder one person at a time and had already chosen.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn’t SNAP YOUR NECK."

She swallowed against his fingers. "B-because I came down here to let you out. We are under siege and low on weapons. Father’s vault."

The grip on her throat tightened by a degree that communicated exactly how much control he was choosing to exercise and how little it would take for him to choose differently.

"No."

There it was. Cassian being Cassian.

Her vision was spotting at the edges, not just from the lack of air, but also from the fear in her chest. The fear she refused to let win when it came to Cassian.

The prisoners across the hall were both watching, confused, as if THIS were the oddest thing they’d ever seen in a goddamn prison.

"Someone’s projecting."

Cassian’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing at the man. "Say that again. I dare you."

"Classic displacement aggression. He’s not angry at her. He’s angry at the situation and she’s the nearest available target. Textbook."

"SHUT UP."

"Denial. Also textbook. He’s killing her because he cannot express emotional vulnerability."

"YOU. You literally just told her they were eating you from the inside out. YOU grabbed her wrist. And NOW you’re her advocate? NOW you’re concerned for her wellbeing?"

"In fairness, we were bored."

"BORED. You terrorized a princess because you were BORED."

"There’s no natural light down here. We take what we can get, young man."

A slow chant started from the far cell. "Let her go. Let her go. Let her go." It picked up. Two cells joined. Then four.

Cassian’s grip didn’t loosen. "I said SHUT UP."

Guinevere’s brain started working again. She went limp. Full dead weight. Zero warning. Her head lolled. Cassian let go of her like he’d been burned.

She fell against the bars, then slid down, before hitting the dungeon floor.

"FUCK. Guinevere." Cassian’s voice cracked.

"Oh, he’s panicking."

"Love this for us."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Her brother dropped to his knees behind the bars. "Guinevere. Wake up. WAKE UP. I didn’t. I barely. The pressure wasn’t. GUINEVERE." He shoved both arms through the bars, trying to reach her. His fingers grazed her shoulder. "Come on. Come ON."

Nothing.

"Congratulations, Your Highness. You murdered your sister in front of witnesses. We’ll testify. Pro bono."

"SHE’S NOT DEAD," he snapped.

The dungeon erupted.

"How would you know? Are you a healer now? Ten minutes ago you were a strangler."

"HE KILLED HER."

"OH, HE ACTUALLY DID IT."

Cassian’s hands were shaking. "She’s breathing. She’s BREATHING. Shut up. SHUT UP."

"Is she though? Because from here she looks pretty goddamn dead, Your Highness."

"She’s alive," Cassian insisted.

The prisoner tilted his head. "I’m a healer’s apprentice. I can check her pulse if you’d like."

"YOU’RE NOT TOUCHING HER."

"Bit rich coming from the man who just strangled her, don’t you think?"

Cassian pressed two fingers to her neck. Pulse. Strong, steady, absolutely fine. His breath came out in a ragged exhale. "She’s fine. She passed out."

"Yeah, people do that when you CHOKE THEM."

He pulled his hands back through the bars. Sat against the wall. Put his head in his hands.

"Fine," he whispered. "Fine."

The dungeon booed. Actual, full-throated, theatrical booing.

"BOO."

"BOOOOO."

"BOO THIS MAN."

"Worst brother alive. And I stabbed mine."

"At least you committed. This guy couldn’t even finish."

Guinevere stayed on the floor, eyes closed.

"SHUT UP!" Cassian yelled. "She comes down here looking like a victim, bleeding through her bandages, stuttering my name. The same performance she’s been doing our entire lives. Poor little Guinevere. Everyone falls for it. Tyler, the elders, Maria, even Father. Everyone except me. I see through HER. I have always seen through her."

"He’s spiraling," one of the prisoners commented. "Classic persecution complex layered over abandonment anxiety. The ’I’m the only one who sees the truth’ delusion is a hallmark of the middle stage."

"THERE IS NO STAGE."

"There’s always a stage. You’re in it. Have you ever considered that YOU actually might be the fucking idiot in the situation?"

The dungeon lost it. Full, echoing, wall-bouncing laughter from every occupied cell. Someone was wheezing. Someone else was clapping. A man six cells down who hadn’t spoken all night honked like a goose and set off a second wave.

BOOM.

The walls vibrated. The laughter died down. The torch on the wall behind Cassian’s cell flickered and dimmed.

"I need out of here. This is her fault. I need to go save my people. She deserves to be down here." He reached through the bars and started searching her like a man frisking a very uncooperative corpse. "Where is it. Where the HELL is—"

His hands checked her shoulders, her sides, her waist. "You said you came down here to free me. Unless you are a bigger idiot than I thought."

Her right fist. Closed tight. Knuckles white.

He stared at it.

"In your hand." He closed his eyes. "In your goddamn hand. You stupid, stupid girl."

He grabbed the keys.

His signet ring slid off so smoothly it was practically consensual. The keys were not so lucky, ripped from his grip by the motion and flung into the dark.

Signet Ring: stolen.

Keys: launched.

Cassian: empty-handed, bare-fingered, and staring at the ceiling like a man asking the gods what he did to deserve this.

The gods did not answer. The prisoner with the keys did. "I accept cash or apologies."