Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Guinevere Drakencrest was singlehandedly the worst, most difficult criminal Commander Veyron had ever brought to justice and they weren’t done yet.

It started with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the stairs and kept getting worse.

Resistance? He could handle. Defiance? He could break. Whatever the hell this was? He had no framework for because the criminal was treating her arrest like it was an interactive museum experience and his officers like tour guides. And now the entire damn police station was participating.

CEREMONIAL INTAKE JUMPSUITS

A guard uncuffed Guinevere then handed her a folded grey jumpsuit. Standard issue. Regulation fabric. The garment equivalent of giving up.

Kael’s cuffed hand intercepted before Guinevere could take it.

”She’s not doing that.”

”Kael, they’re offering us ceremonial intake garments.”

”You are the future Queen of Drakencrest. You are not wearing a jumpsuit. Your husband will never let me hear the end of it.”

”We are guests in their justice system.”

”Honey, we are being arrested. Remember? That means we are prisoners.”

”It’s a cultural garment assigned during their rehabilitation process. Refusing it would be disrespectful. When in their kingdom, we honor their customs, even if they are different from our own, Kael.”

”Guinevere—”

He stopped mid-word because she had already taken the jumpsuit from the guard.

Argument over. Guinevere won.

She held it up. Turned it over. Checked the seams. Ran her thumb across the fabric. Brought it closer to her face and rubbed the material between two fingers with the focused assessment of a textile expert conducting a quality review.

”Oh, this is lovely. Feel the material, Kael.”

”I will not feel the material.”

She looked at the guard. ”Your people clothe their captives with more care than mine clothe our young. I am humbled by your ways. My people could learn a thing or two about your way of life.”

The guard handed Kael a jumpsuit without comment.

She put on the jumpsuit over the silk pajamas right there and held out her wrists to the guard for re-cuffing.

The guard looked at her. Looked at the changing room she did not use. Looked back at her. She offered him a warm smile. After a second, the guard shrugged then re-cuffed her. Done.

Across the station, Commander Veyron watched this and said nothing. He had started this evening with standards. The standards were gone.

Guinevere did a spin for Kael, presenting herself with the composed posture of a woman at a fitting who wanted a second opinion and was going to get one whether the second opinion was ready or not.

”I think it’s a prison jumpsuit and you are treating it like a runway, Guinevere.”

”Presentation matters regardless of circumstance, Kael. You taught me that.”

”I absolutely did not teach you that.”

”Fair point. I taught myself that. But I wanted to include you in the growth moment.”

”Thanks. I’m included. I’m also incarcerated. Those two things are happening at the same time and I need you to hold both.”

”And there’s even pockets. Pockets are an early sign of an advanced civilization, Kael. Check yours.”

”I’m not checking for pockets.”

”Check.”

He stared at her. She stared back. The stare lasted four seconds. He lost.

”Fine,” he snapped. ”Both sides. Happy?”

She gave a single nod. ”And?”

Kael’s jaw worked once as he felt the depth of both pockets.

”Functional,” he admitted. ”Well-stitched. Better than my usual pockets. Don’t make this a thing.”

She flashed him a devilish grin that said this is already a thing.

”Whatever it is you’re thinking. I’m going to need you to stop,” Kael said flatly.

”Kael, you’re smiling.”

”I am not smiling.”

”On our land, pockets are a privilege for women. Here, they are a right. Extended even to those who have wronged the community. I want you to marinate with that, Kael.”

THE PRISON CELLS

The moment Guinevere’s boots hit the corridor floor, the cell bars lit up.

Every single one. Both sides. The metal ignited in sequence as she passed, a rolling wave of light that traveled down the corridor like a standing ovation performed by ironwork. Prisoners in occupied cells looked up from whatever they had been doing, which was probably staring at walls that were already beautiful, and found themselves blinking at bars that were now blinding.

She clapped.

CLINK. CLINK. CLINK.

Kael blinked at her. Of course she clapped. The sun rises. Rain falls. Guinevere claps at things. These are constants.

Then the prisoners joined in on the clapping.

Every guard in the corridor turned around. Hands on weapons. Again. Then they gave a knowing nod as a collective unit because it was the same woman. They stopped what they were doing to watch. Their shift commander had given up on telling them to go back to work around plate six and had long since joined in.

Kael had stopped being surprised after Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. But the prisoners joining in on the joy managed to surprise him one more time. She had been in the corridor for fifteen seconds and already had a following. He was watching a cult form in real time and it didn’t bother him.

”Fuck it.”

He joined in on the clapping.

For three seconds, a dragon and a queen clapped together in a Luminari prison corridor while inmates cheered and guards pretended this wasn’t happening. It was the best three seconds of the worst night of Kael’s life.

A guard’s hand twitched toward the clap. He caught it. Pulled it back. Put it behind his back. The restraint cost him something visible.

Veyron’s head rotated toward Guinevere with the patience of something about to fire.

Target confirmed.

Her chains were still jingling away.

The glare he gave her was powered by a thousand suns and usually made even the most dangerous criminals behave.

Guinevere noticed it and gave him a solemn nod while she lowered her hands.

”Oh, right,” she said in her library voice. ”My apologies. I was moved by your infrastructure again and expressed it physically. I don’t yet know the boundaries of your community’s justice customs during the guided walk to captivity. Is there a quiet way to express admiration during the walking portion? Such as snapping? I want to participate respectfully.”