Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Chapter 125: Co-Parenting With Baby-Dropping Idiots

The Blair-O-Meter had four levels: Pleasant, Passive-Aggressive, Pissed-off-Petty, and Psycho-Bitch.

CURRENT LEVEL: Pissed-off-Petty

She had one rule: bring Guinevere back the way you found her. She let the boys watch her for a few hours and her dress-up doll came back covered in dust and shaking like she had been left outside during a blizzard.

Aldric worked his healing magic over Guinevere as she lay on Maddox’s bed. Blair perched at the foot like a hawk with better hair and a rapidly declining tolerance for bullshit.

When the healer finished, he placed a hand on Guinevere’s forehead, then frowned. "You are burning hotter than a dragon right now."

He wasn’t wrong. Blair could see heat shimmering off Guinevere’s skin. The girl was so hot she was about to start ironing the sheets with her own body.

"You need rest," he added. "Real rest. The kind where you stay horizontal."

Guinevere didn’t respond or even seem to hear him. Her eyes were anchored to the ceiling, caught in a thousand-yard stare.

"I’ll be staying with her. They’ve officially lost all joint custody privileges," Blair said, with the energy of a mother who just watched someone drop her baby on its head.

Aldric nodded, then gave Guinevere one extra long look.

Blair narrowed her eyes, catching a flicker of something on his face before he locked it down.

"What’s wrong?"

He glanced up at her. "My gut says something’s wrong. My diagnostics say she’s stable. I hate when those two disagree." He straightened. "I need to check on a very stubborn dragon king. I’ll be back."

Blair watched him go, then poured Guinevere a glass of water without a word.

"Blair."

"Hmm?"

"I need the bathing chamber."

Guinevere swung her legs over the side of the bed and made it four steps on legs as sturdy as wet rope.

"You look like a baby deer with a drinking problem."

"I do not," Guinevere snapped, before looking down at her legs. "... Fine. Maybe a little."

Blair doubled over, laughing. "I’m sorry," she wheezed. "I can’t. You’re too much."

She wiped her eyes, still grinning, as the bathing chamber door clicked shut. The laughter slowly faded. The room went quiet except for the steady sound of running water from inside.

Good. She was probably washing her face, cleaning off whatever the hell was on her.

One minute passed. Two. Three.

The water kept running.

Blair had already redecorated the entire room twice in her head. The bachelor-king leather chairs were uncomfortable and ugly. The lack of pillows was some sick, twisted game. The curtains were an abomination picked out by a colorblind toddler and going in the trash immediately.

The walls were giving "dungeon chic" vibes, and the rug in front of the bed still had its head attached, aggressively taxidermied and judging everyone from beyond the grave. Blair had already mentally burned it. The entire room needed a complete overhaul.

Ten minutes.

She crossed to the door and knocked twice. "You good in there?"

Behind her, Maddox entered his chambers, ribs wrapped, looking like a man who had left his wife for half an hour and had hated every second of it.

His hair was a disaster. An ugly day. Happens to the best of us.

His eyes swept the room. Found Blair.

"Where is she?"

Blair held up a finger. "Hold on."

The water offered zero commentary.

She knocked again, harder. "Gwen?"

Blair pressed her ear to the wood. Beneath the loud faucet, she heard violent, dramatic, full-body retching. Her stomach took one listen and immediately tried to join in.

Maddox materialized next to her and knocked much harder than necessary.

"Guinevere. It’s Maddox. Open up."

"One minute," she called from inside.

He stared at the door frowning for exactly one second before he cocked his foot back. Blair grabbed his arm.

"Don’t be a dipshit."

She pulled a hairpin from her pocket, dropped to one knee in front of the lock, and picked it in two seconds flat. The mechanism gave way with a soft click.

Maddox stared at her.

"Oh please." Blair rolled her eyes.

She pushed the door open. Maddox moved in front of her before she took a step.

"Yes, yes, by all means cut me off."

Blair entered and saw Guinevere on her knees in front of his porcelain throne, body convulsing.

Maddox’s face turned from king to kicked puppy in half a second.

"Fuck, baby." He slid to the floor beside her. One hand gathered her hair, the other pressed flat against her spine.

Guinevere tried to push him away. "I’m okay, Maddox."

It was adorable. Like a kitten attempting to body-slam a warhorse.

Blair almost laughed.

"Sorry. No," Maddox said.

Smart man. Blair would have given him an earful if he took that hallpass.

Guinevere folded forwards again. Blood. Bright, arterial, unmistakable.

Maddox’s entire body went rigid, noticing it at the same time Blair did.

Blair didn’t need to hear the mindlinks to know what he was doing. The look on his face told her he was taking action.

"It’s really okay," Guinevere whispered, tears streaming. "It looks worse than it feels. You both can go."

Another heave.

Blair sighed.

Watching the Dragon King play nurse while his wife puked blood was the most fucked-up, disgusting, and romantic thing she’d seen all year.

His jaw was locked so tight the muscle jumped with every heartbeat. He stood. Crossed to the marble bath, then turned the taps.

Blair watched him test the water temperature with his hand, adjust it, and test it again.

For a fraction of a second, something crossed his face that looked dangerously close to enthusiasm. Then it was gone. His expression was stone, jaw set. Grim. Very kingly.

Blair blinked. No. She misread that. There was no way the Dragon King was excited about running a bath. This was the same man who found out he was married last night.

Then came the bath salts. Rows of glass jars she’d never seen in his chambers before. Definitely new.

He uncorked one. Sniffed. Rejected it.

Blair’s jaw fell down. No. She was definitely hallucinating. For a second there—

He was smelling a second fucking jar of bath salts. This was happening.

He paused, then shrugged and dumped the entire thing into the bath.

Moved to the next. Inhaled. Poured the whole goddamn jar in again.

Then, for reasons only known to the gods, he went back to the first one he’d rejected and poured that in as well.

Blair glanced over at Guinevere who hadn’t noticed.

Maddox left the bathing chamber without a word as Guinevere pushed herself to stand.

"I’m really okay," she said. "I feel better, actually."

Blair planted her hands on her hips. "Bullshit. But you do look slightly less like death warmed over, so I’ll let it slide. Where the hell were you again?"

She had asked it earlier, but her brain was still refusing to process the answer.

"A dragon library," Guinevere replied flatly, like that was supposed to mean something.

Blair’s brain rejected it again.

"There’s blood in your hair, Gwen. It looks like you’re bleeding through the back of your zip suit. Are you?" Blair didn’t wait for an answer. She crossed the bathing chamber, and gathered Guinevere’s hair. "Definitely fresh blood. Hopefully not puke blood."

"My back hurts," Guinevere admitted softly. "My zipper was down earlier and it was fine."

Blair gently tugged at Guinevere’s zipper, then gasped. "Holy fuck."

Maddox sprinted back into the bathing chamber holding silk lingerie like a man who just discovered retail therapy and emotional support pajamas.

Silk robe. Matching chemise and slippers.

So, that’s where he went. Also, that is such a cute set.

"What?" Guinevere and Maddox asked at the same time.

Blair looked at Maddox and nodded down at what she was seeing.

He moved.

His throat worked. Nothing came out.

Without a word, he gently unzipped it the rest of the way, and peeled it off her shoulders.

Underneath the suit was a horror show. Gashes everywhere. Not scratches. Gashes. Running across her shoulders, her ribs, her spine, her sides.

Fresh ones were forming as Blair watched, the skin swelling, then parting, like invisible claws dragging.

"What the fuck," Blair and Maddox said at the same time.

They needed alcohol, holy water, and a priest. In that order.