Chapter 135: A Backstab-Bondage Double-Dog Dare
Kael detonated through the flap, blade aimed at a seated man’s neck.
Guinevere rocketed out of her chair and inserted herself directly between her father and his sudden death. Draven’s blade clattered behind her.
She was exactly where she needed to be to save Renwick and exactly where she shouldn’t be for everything that came next.
Kael stopped mid-swing, the edge touching her arm.
"Honey. We talked about this."
"He’s a wolf, Kael."
She left out the fact he was her father. Earlier when she mindlinked Kael, she hadn’t decided if she was going to reveal her father’s identity. So she made the split-second decision.
"We’re doing this again? Really?" Kael looked at her the way a parent looks at a toddler climbing the same counter for the third time. "By all means, keep standing between me and someone I’m trying to kill."
"I was correct last time too," she replied.
Kael did not argue. He agreed. Nicholas Shadowfell had proven useful in the same way a loaded crossbow pointed at your enemy’s balls was useful.
Behind her, Renwick moved at Alpha speed. One cuff snapped over her left wrist. Her right arm was wrenched back, locked to it, and, by the time she understood what had happened, he was standing, blade drawn at her neck. The silver seared into her skin immediately.
Kael’s blade had already moved, to her father’s throat.
Nothing says thank-you-for-saving-me like silver handcuffs and a sword to the jugular. The laugh wanted out.
Screw anonymity.
"Charming, Father. Even for your standards. Well played. I hope that it’s worth the price."
She didn’t need to glance at him to know he was shocked. The most powerful act of rebellion she could have committed was done: she said ’father’ in front of witnesses while speaking out of turn. Next time she spoke, she was going to use a curse word too.
Kael’s eyes dropped to her for a fraction of a second on the word father, but immediately returned to Renwick.
Guinevere reached for her flame, but it didn’t come. Fantastic.
"Lower your weapon, Ashenvale," Eron ordered from somewhere behind her.
Kael rolled his eyes. "He’s not going to kill his own daughter. So let’s skip the theatrical hostage bullshit and get to the part where someone explains why the Wolf King is hiding in a Solandris tent playing family backstab-bondage."
Renwick’s blade didn’t move an inch. "You don’t get answers. You get a choice: leave, or I make this very complicated. And trust me, I’m extremely good at complicated."
"It’s already complicated as fuck," Kael fired back. "Daughter in cuffs, Beta in shock, me with a blade and a bad attitude. We passed complicated the second I walked in, grandpa."
"Oh for the love of—" Guinevere snapped. "Let’s refocus, starting with why the hell am I cuffed, Father?"
’Hell’ and ’Father’ in the same breath. It brought Guinevere joy. Next up: double curse words in the same sentence.
Renwick ignored her.
"Honey," Kael said lightly. "What did I tell you about cutting into conversations while the grown-ups talk? This doesn’t concern you right now."
"Oh, of course," Guinevere replied. "Please, continue. This clusterfuck isn’t going to fuck itself."
And there it was. Two curse words. One sentence.
Neither of them spared her a glance.
"Let me make this very simple," Renwick said, voice low. "My blade stays on her until your blade hits the floor. That’s the only offer on the table. Yes or no. Clock’s ticking."
"Clock’s ticking?" Kael echoed. "You’re the one with a blade to your daughter’s throat and you’re giving me ultimatums? We come full circle to the fact you aren’t going to kill your daughter, Lunaris. She’s too expensive."
Renwick chuckled darkly. "Too expensive to kill. Not too expensive to bleed. There’s a margin, boy. I live in it."
"What’s the going rate for selling out your daughter these days? Inflation must be a son-of-a-bitch."
"How much are you willing to lose calling my bluff?" Renwick replied. "Now drop the fucking blade. Your window is rapidly closing."
"How about kiss my ass," Kael snorted. "That’s not a fucking window. It’s a trap with curtains, a welcome mat, and your daughter as the bait. Real subtle, gramps."
Guinevere’s lips twitched. That was funny.
"Lower the blade, Ashenvale."
"Move yours first."
"Mine is keeping you honest. Yours is just you waving your dick around hoping I’ll blink first."
Kael grinned, completely unfazed. "Waving my dick? Says the father-of-the-year currently using his daughter as a shield. At least when I swing mine it’s with purpose. Yours clearly has performance issues."
Beta Draven, still in his chair, looked like a man watching royalty play hostage chicken and he couldn’t look away.
"Gods, I need a drink," he mumbled.
Renwick exhaled through his nose. Guinevere recognized it. He was out of patience.
"Yes, yes. We all know she revealed who I am because I cuffed her. Emotional. Predictable. Fixable. Your presence here is none of those things. So I will ask once more, and the next time I ask, I stop asking."
"Ask me again. I double-dog dare you."
Kael had just dared an Alpha wolf king to his face. The audacity was so massive it looped back around from suicidal to impressive. Even Renwick seemed torn between ripping his head off and offering him a job.
"You’re outnumbered, Fourth," Eron’s voice cut through the silence.
"Oh no. More of them than me. However will I cope." Kael’s tone was so dry it could’ve started a fire.
Renwick’s voice was ice. "They don’t know she’s my daughter. One word and that flap opens. You’ll get through five or so before one of them puts you down, and my daughter will be collateral."
"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all day," Kael said flatly. "They absolutely know who she is. Everyone in this goddamn camp knows who she is."
Renwick’s expression didn’t change. "Boy, the only thing dumber than your confidence is your grasp of politics. They know she’s a prisoner. Perception is everything. And right now your little tantrum is making her extremely expendable."
"Oh this is rich. A goddamn wolf schooling a dragon on politics. I love it. Your elite security?" Kael jerked his chin towards the flap without moving his blade a millimeter. "Two at the entrance, three east, two circling like idiots. I walked past them. They couldn’t guard a glory hole in a temple. Real elite unit you’ve got there, Solandris."
Renwick’s blade stayed locked against Guinevere’s neck as he gave Kael a sharp, charismatic smile.
"You are loud, you are outnumbered, and you’re making the fatal error of assuming I didn’t plan for you. I always plan for the loud ones, dragon."
Kael returned the grin and rolled his wrist, making the blade dance in lazy figure-eights against the wolf king’s throat. The non-verbal version of flipping him off.
"You plan for the loud ones? Cute. I plan for assholes who hide in tents playing kidnap-daddy. Who’s winning this family reunion so far?"
Renwick didn’t even blink. "You’re holding a blade to my throat in a tent full of my allies while my daughter bleeds. If this is your idea of winning, boy, I’d hate to see what losing looks like for you."
"You do realize she could roast all of you assholes, right?" Kael asked.
Guinevere closed her eyes for a split second at this. She could, in fact, not roast anyone.
"She’s in full-ward silver cuffs," Renwick replied. "Her flame and wolf are as useful as your personality. I know my daughter’s limits. Tonight, so do you."
"Fair. In that case, I could also roast you. One big dragon BBQ. Extra crispy on the father-of-the-year. Medium rare on the useless Beta who’s just happy to be here."
"If you raise a hand, I will burn you," Eron snapped without looking at him.
"If you roast me, Solandris," Kael fired back, "just remember my brother chopped a lord’s head clean off tonight for breathing wrong. He’s not the forgiving type. Lucky for you, I’m the reasonable one."
The flap opened again.
Lord Solandris stepped in and moved in a blur, stopping with his blade at Kael’s neck wearing a what-the-fuck-is-this-shit expression.
"Lower it, Ashenvale."
Kael didn’t even flinch.
"Wonderful. Now the whole gang is here."
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