Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Red flag held hands with denial for fifteen miles straight on the trip home.

But once they walked through the gate of Lunaris Keep, reality decided to show up with a crowbar, and reality didn’t give a fuck about thunderstorms.

DOMINO 8: DADDY’S HOME AND DADDY’S NOT HAPPY

LUNARIS KEEP - 6:30 PM

DRAGONS - 75 MILES OUT

ETA - 26 MINUTES

Renwick walked in on a bunch of glowing alien fucks playing veterinarian with his wolves. Maria then machine-gunned an entire goddamn briefing that contained a siege and a glowing man who just saved Tyler’s ass, followed by dropping an I-am-pregnant-bomb. Because his day demanded one more middle finger, Cassian was also in the fucking dungeon.

Roll it back. Back it the fuck up. Rewind.

Renwick Lunaris went through six levels of ’what the fuck’ first, and each one earned its place in the sequence.

That’s how it ended. It started with a gate, a courtyard, and the gradual, soul-crushing understanding that every red flag on the ride home had been dramatically underselling the complete fucking situation.

WHAT THE FUCK 1:

The keep was a mess. There was ash everywhere. Glass was scattered across the courtyard in a clear ’something went boom’ pattern that made zero architectural sense.

"Ash and glass."

"Yes."

"In a PATTERN."

"A radial pattern, yes."

"Draven, what makes a radial pattern?"

"Explosions, Your Majesty."

"And what do we think exploded?"

"Everything, by the look of it."

WHAT THE FUCK 2:

He stepped into the main courtyard. About half the wolves dropped to one knee. The rest couldn’t because they were actively bleeding.

Wounded soldiers everywhere. Way too many to ignore.

A stretcher with a sheet over it drifted past like the universe was making damn sure the message landed.

WHAT THE FUCK 3:

Renwick needed Cassian or Tyler. One of them should have been standing in this courtyard with a clipboard and an explanation. He got neither.

"Where would you be right now if this was your Keep?" Renwick asked.

"Right here. In the courtyard. Meeting my Alpha at the gate. Explaining everything. With a drink in my hand and an apology on my lips."

"And where is my son?"

"Not here."

"Which means?"

"Which means I’d like to reserve judgment until we find him."

They had two jobs. ’Run the Keep’ and ’help run the Keep.’ Neither man was doing either job because neither man was anywhere to be fucking found.

"War room," Renwick decided. "That’s where they have to be. There’s no way both of them dropped the ball with this."

"Strategy session," Draven agreed. "Reviewing defenses. Coordinating repairs. Being productive, capable leaders who have everything under control and we just happened to walk into the worst of it."

They picked up the pace the way men pick up the pace when they’re not running but they’re definitely not walking anymore either.

WHAT THE FUCK 4:

The next what the fuck was smaller but made the list.

Someone had drawn a giant goddamn dick on the wall in chalk and no one had bothered to clean it up.

Both men froze in their tracks, staring at it for three full seconds.

"It has balls," Draven observed.

"I noticed."

"Two of them."

"That’s standard, Draven."

WHAT THE FUCK 5:

They stopped cold again one corridor later.

The old healer was either asleep or dead on a chair. Renwick had known this healer his entire life. Never had he seen the man do this.

Draven was already moving. He pressed two fingers to his neck. Frowned. Tried another spot.

The healer sneezed directly into Draven’s face so loudly the Beta jerked back, knocking into Renwick, who grabbed a wall sconce to keep from falling.

The healer’s eyes snapped open.

"WHAT."

Both men stood there, one holding a sconce, the other clutching his chest, staring at a ninety-year-old man in a chair who was looking at them like THEY were the problem.

"I was RESTING."

"You looked dead," Draven said flatly, wiping the sneeze off his face.

WHAT THE FUCK 6:

Just when he thought he escaped glowing fucks, a bunch of them were in his great hall, and none of them were aware that he was the Alpha King.

Renwick approached the nearest one. "Lovely work. Really. Hands on my wolves, light in their chests, very impressive. Quick question. Who the fuck authorized this?"

The man didn’t flinch. "King Solveil, Your Majesty. Every healer present is master-level, by order of—"

Renwick cut him off.

"Does the Luminari King typically install his army in foreign Keeps, or am I receiving special treatment?"

The healer blinked. "We’re healing your wounded, Your Majesty."

"Who’s in charge of your unit?"

"Captain Vael, Your Majesty. He’s on the rampart overseeing the ward installation."

Renwick’s eyes found Draven’s. Draven shook his head a fraction of an inch. Helpful as always.

"We appreciate it," the Beta jumped in. "We also appreciate knowing what happens inside our own walls. Please continue."

WHAT THE FUCK 7:

All of the furniture was rearranged in the great hall. Either there had been a barricade or someone had redecorated during a psychotic break.

But what turned this into a proper what-the-fuck was his wife charging toward him in hysterics. The last time Maria played Luna without him, Stonehowl rolled in and took his daughter. Same tears. Same face.

Except this time was supposed to be her easy-do-over because Cassian was on deck.

She spoke the way avalanches move. Fast, downhill, and indifferent to the concept of pausing for breath.

Renwick could barely understand a word.

"Saved Tyler from what?" Draven cut in.

"The stabbing."

Draven’s face went white.

"Go," Renwick said. Draven was already running.

"—and then the dragon, dungeon, demon, light—"

Renwick dragged a hand down his face.

"Those are just nouns, Maria. I need context between the nouns."

"Purple holes. In the sky. Bugs with swords. CASSIAN WHIPPED HER and a king glowed and bugs demons stabbed Tyler and the windows exploded."

His wife was having the kind of breakdown that required a stretcher and a priest.

"Maria. My love. I need you to pretend I am very stupid and explain this to me like I am five years old."

"Cassian had—"

Maria hunched forward mid-sentence.

Renwick caught her by both arms. "What is it? Let’s get you back to your chambers—"

"No."

"Yes. I’m not asking."

She forced herself straight.

"I’m fine. I just need to see a healer because I’m pregnant. As I was saying, Cassian had Guinevere whipped."

His grip on her arms locked. Not for her sake. For his. She was the only thing stopping him from folding like cheap lawn furniture.

"The glowing men are making the walls to prevent the bug demon fae from making those purple rifts and they said they will help repair the windows too," she added.

For three full seconds, the Alpha King of Lunaris resembled a man who had been told the sky was green and the ground was up and was checking both.

"Cassian did what?"

"He called everyone to the great hall and ordered lashes on her. She was in her pajamas and looked frozen. Then the dead dragon woke up and killed three guards," Maria replied.

It was the most coherent thing she said so far.

"Where is he?"

"The dungeon. On the order of the dragon who saved our Keep last night."

Renwick’s face didn’t change.

"And Guinevere?"

"Gone. She left this morning to represent Lunaris at the continental alliance summit."

"That summit is eight hundred miles away."

"Tyler was supposed to go. But he couldn’t shift. Cassian was..." Maria paused, choosing words with care. "Not available."

Renwick ran the catastrophe through his brain a few times and it still wasn’t making sense. How the fuck was his daughter here? His son was locked in a dungeon. His Keep was being repaired by foreign soldiers. And a dragon he never green-lit was currently giving orders in his kingdom.

Truly the gift that keeps on fucking.

He looked at a Luminari healer.

"She’s pregnant. Sit her down. Check her."

Renwick let go of her and was already moving towards the dungeon.