Chapter 141: Slow Down There, Stabby
Guinevere had spent twenty years believing her origin story was boring. Turns out it was a high-budget clusterfuck with a covered-up affair, a blood contract, and a family with more skeletons than a graveyard.
Lord Solandris, also known as Edward and Grandfather dearest, raised his hand lazily, halfway up. The tent cleared immediately, leaving only the people at the table and the weight of what was about to happen next.
RULE 28: Eyes drop first, mouth opens first. Every goddamn time. Shut the fuck up and wait. The next words out of their mouth are always a confession.
Edward Solandris rotated his glass between his fingers, studying Guinevere.
She met his gaze unflinching. If he was hoping for a reaction to the grandfather bit, he wasn’t going to get one. Her emotions were floating somewhere off in the distance and the strategist version of herself was out.
Two seconds.
Five seconds. Seven.
He broke eye contact first. His lips twitched in what might have been the world’s most reluctant almost-smile before he took a sip of whiskey.
"Twenty-three years ago, your father saved a life that mattered to me. The details are sealed under an oath so don’t bother asking. A debt was owed to him by House Solandris, which is a rarer thing than gold."
Kael grinned. "A life that mattered to you? Bold of you to admit feelings, Grandpa."
Lord Solandris ignored him.
"A year later, I convened seven men I respected: the now late Dragon King, four Dragon Lords, a king of something else that I shall not name, and a young Wolf King from Nyros. Your father was the first and only wolf to ever sit at a Solandris table."
Renwick leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other completely at ease like he owned the table and every motherfucker sitting at it.
"House Solandris does not invite outsiders into our walls often," Lord Solandris continued. "None of those men knew the nature of the meeting. All took a blood oath before entering the chamber."
"I’ve been to worse dinner parties. Not many," Kael commented.
"Quiet, dragon," Lord Solandris ordered, without looking at him. "You are a guest in a history that is not yours to witness. Act like it."
Kael’s smirk widened. "The ’guest’ ship has long since sailed, Your Lordship. I’m part of the story now."
Lord Solandris picked up his whiskey, took a deliberate sip, and set it down without acknowledging the comment. "Before another word is spoken, everyone present will swear a blood oath. This is not a request."
"Yeah, no. Hard fucking pass," Kael said immediately. "She’s good. Aren’t you, Wolf Girl?"
Guinevere remained silent, eyes on her grandfather, waiting for more. Edward waited too. A second silent war of stubbornness unfolded.
She won. Obviously.
"I am also bound by oath," Lord Solandris clarified. "I cannot continue without one for that reason."
Silence filled the tent.
She knew this was a terrible fucking idea. How many batshit decisions can one girl make in one night? Apparently the limit did not exist because it took two seconds for her to hit the FUCK-IT button.
"Okay. I’ll take a blood oath."
"Wolf Girl, blood oaths will kill you if you break them," Kael warned, using the voice of a hostage negotiator who knew damn well the hostage was the problem.
"I am aware of the mechanics. Your concern is noted," she replied, voice soft.
"Got it. You know it could kill you and you’re fine with it." Kael took a long swig of his drink. "That tracks."
"Blood oaths are impossible to break. You physically cannot. But if you somehow managed to, yes, the result would be death," Lord Solandris confirmed.
His eyes landed on Kael. "You will take a blood oath as well if you want to be in here, that term is non-negotiable. Your memory will also be wiped. Choose."
Kael rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, gramps. Fine, I’ll take your creepy blood oath. Say please next time."
The ’please’ never came. What came instead was a crystal basin placed at the center of the table by Eron. He stood, hand hovering over it, and silver and white fire ignited inside. Two shades of flame that Guinevere had never seen before.
Marek rose out of his seat next.
"The offering of blood shall constitute acceptance of this oath. No word, act, or communication shall reveal that which is sealed herein."
He pricked a finger on his good hand with a dagger. The second his blood dropped into the flame, it turned blue.
He offered Guinevere the dagger next, but Kael’s hand shot in between them, intercepting it. "Slow down, Stabby. You lost trust privileges five cum-chanting demons ago. The others go first before she touches it."
"Stabby," Marek repeated flatly, holding up his injured hand. "She stabbed me with a goddamn letter opener and I’m the one who can’t be trusted?"
Kael didn’t move his hand.
"Fine," Marek snapped. He handed the dagger to Eron on his other side. Eron pricked his finger, the basin flared back to silver-white. When Beta Draven went, the flame turned green. Renwick’s was identical. Lord Solandris’s flame matched his brothers, silver and white.
Kael went next. "If I die, tell my brother I died doing something stupid for a pretty girl. He’ll understand and hate that in equal measure."
As soon as his blood hit the flame, it peacocked, flaring brighter and taller than the others. Most of it was Drakencrest gold. There was white at the edges and a single streak of black.
Marek, Eron, and Edward looked like they’d just witnessed a war crime and a miracle at the same time.
"My mother," Kael said lightly. He did not elaborate.
Edward Solandris nodded once like he’d just connected the final piece of a very annoying puzzle. But he said nothing.
Guinevere decided she would be asking Kael about that later. But for now, she would continue pretending she understood what the fuck was happening.
Kael handed her the dagger. Last to go.
She pricked her finger and let her blood fall into the basin. The flame instantly shifted into gold and white. More white than Kael’s.
WHOOMPH.
The fire roared upward in a towering pillar that punched through the canvas ceiling, sending a shock wave across the table that knocked a whiskey glass to the floor. Kael caught his and Guinevere’s glasses before either toppled off the table.
She glanced down at her hands and blinked. The gold surrounding her and Kael had shut off at some point between the finger prick and whatever the hell that was, and she wasn’t sure how she did either.
"That was caused by your blood. You didn’t do it," Kael said in a low voice, reading her face.
She swallowed and gave a single nod.
THWUMP.
Just as violently as it had surged towards the sky, the fire returned back to silver.
Guinevere glanced around the table.
Beta Draven was stuck mid-sip with the most beautiful ’what the fuck’ face imaginable, while Marek’s expression screamed ’oh shit.’
Renwick was staring at the flame like it was a giant fuck-you bonfire. Next to him, Lord Solandris looked like he’d just been personally told ’go fuck yourself’ by fate on something he’d been dreading. Eron just looked constipated.
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