Princess survival rule number one: do not look at the dragon king. Do not look at the dragon king. Do not look at the dragon king.

She looked at the dragon king. Again. He was watching her, almost as if he was waiting to catch her in the act. On reflex she looked away, as if she’d done something wrong. Another entry in the running tally of small humiliations she would be addressing with the Moon Goddess.

Her father resumed his speech as if a dragon king hadn’t just threatened someone at his dinner. Impressive composure. Terrifying priorities.

The Alpha at the fifth table looked like he was considering crawling under it. Whatever he’d said, the room had not recovered.

".... Lunaris takes our alliances very seriously... court trained...."

Cassian didn’t move next to her, but his eyes slid sideways and his lips twitched into a smug smile.

"—leave here with a virgin bride."

She choked on her drink. For a moment there, she thought he said something about her going somewhere with one of these strangers. After she just escaped.

Her father shot her a look that communicated everything. He held it two full seconds. Almost like a ’try me’ which she wouldn’t have.

He held the stare long enough that it was an assertion of dominance. Any wolf with two eyes would’ve seen that she wasn’t challenging it. Just genuinely surprised.

He turned back to the crowd. "Any house that sees value in such blood and wishes to strengthen our houses, may approach me tonight. I will consider all offers."

She blinked again. She hadn’t misheard. She didn’t know what was worse being here or making a run for it with at least twenty wolves capable of Alpha speed.

"Every Alpha in here is wondering the same thing, Lunaris." Two hundred heads swiveled to Alpha Ashfang. "Has the girl had a heat yet?"

Guinevere’s face heated at the very question. Gods, this was twice now in twenty-four hours that an alpha openly asked that. She wondered if it was possible to set yourself on fire through sheer embarrassment alone.

"She has not," her father answered. Guinevere didn’t know if that was a bad or good thing.

"How do we know if she is fertile then?" the Alpha from the fifth table asked.

"I’ll take my chances." Ashfang’s eyes raked over her openly. "Two million pounds of northern gold, plus the iron mines along the Black Ridge. My pack controls the best steel in Nyros." He gave a wicked grin. "Three wives. Fourteen pups. I don’t miss."

Tyler blinked. Cassian blinked. Guinevere strongly considered blinking herself right out of existence.

Renwick Lunaris kept his expression neutral, but Guinevere knew her father. The man hadn’t invited every Alpha to the same room by fucking accident. This was exactly what he wanted. No private offers.

Across the hall, King Drakencrest’s fingers had curled into the edge of the table hard enough that the wood was complaining about it. His golden eyes had darkened from sun to fire, and the message his face was sending was one she did not have a vocabulary for.

If she wasn’t stunned by the fact that this was happening, she’d have blushed. But at the moment she was detached. Like this was happening to another girl in a white dress. Not her.

"Four million pounds of pure gold," Alpha Duskwin said, standing like he expected applause. "The entire eastern timber forest, and safe passage for all Lunaris trade through my rivers for the next fifty years." He turned to Ashfang. "Your mines are half depleted, your steel is overpriced, and your pitch was revolting. You and your sperm can sit down."

Everyone froze. Somewhere in the back, a fork hit a plate. Nobody picked it up.

"Six million." Nightclaw stood and addressed Guinevere directly. "I don’t do charm. I do intelligence." He scanned the room. "A piece of free advice for every Alpha who’s bid so far: I have at least three secrets that could end each of you. Including the one who bathes regularly."

Duskwin stopped smiling.

"I offer my information network. Pledge my armies. And open my borders to Lunaris." He sat back down. "That’s my offer, Renwick."

This time, someone did choke on their drink. Next to her Tyler let out a breath. Cassian shot her a look, like he was confused why any of the alphas were offering for her at all. She gave him a flat unimpressed fuck-off look right back.

Snickers followed. Whoops.

"Nine million pounds of gold, my personal fleet of twenty war galleys." Alpha Redmoon paused, swirling his wine. "And the hand of my sister as a secondary bride for your son Cassian. Two alliances for the price of one." He raised his glass towards Cassian. "You’re welcome."

Cassian’s smirk formed, then collapsed the second he processed what was actually said. He turned to his father. Guinevere fought the urge to laugh.

Tyler was full-on grinning, the smart-ass energy radiating off of him could have powered the castle. His entire posture was a victory lap.

Alpha Grimscar didn’t stand, but his voice cut across the hall. "Ten million by dawn. The Crimson Pass permanently. Redmoon keeps his trade route if his sister goes to the son. My Beta’s daughter pairs with yours. Three alliances. Full coverage. No weak flank."

Tyler’s smirk vanished so fast it should have left skid marks. There it was. Justice. Swift, brutal, and wearing a three-way alliance as a disguise.

A few high ranking officers were taking obvious sips of their drinks, fighting laughs. One had his goblet pressed to his mouth so hard the rim was leaving a mark.

Grimscar surveyed the room. "Every king here is bidding with gold, Lunaris. I’m bidding with geography. Gold runs out. Land doesn’t."

Her father seemed pleased with that. Guinevere exhaled. At least if she was going down, the two geniuses next to her were going down with her.

"Beautiful. Write that down, someone." Lord Raventhorn let out a laugh, and clapped. "Gold talks, Grimscar. Don’t act like you’re above it. We’re all here for the same reason, and it isn’t geography."

He rose from his chair.

"One hundred million. A dragon fleet. She would be my first wife. Every Alpha here has been offering pieces. I’m offering the whole board."

The room went dead silent. Dragons were more powerful than wolves. One dragon could burn an entire wolf army. An entire fleet was unheard of.

Guinevere forgot how to breathe. Her wolf started to whimper inside her mind, something she’d never heard it do before.

She forced her expression neutral and pressed her palms against her thighs under the table to hide the fact she was trembling.

Her father opened his mouth. Closed it. That was too good of a proposal to refuse. Everyone knew it.

He opened his mouth again, but King Shadowfell spoke first. The most powerful man on the entire continent of Nyros, ruler of the largest pack and the most territories. The young one that she hadn’t seen before tonight.

"One hundred and fifty million pounds of gold paid tonight. Full military support. Open borders. And I will personally ensure Stonehowl doesn’t step foot in your territory again."

His eyes were locked on Guinevere with blatant possession, there was no mistaking it now. Half the alphas growled softly under their breath at the open claim, the other half joined the stunned faces.

Then the Drakencrest King spoke. The one she told to go hide in a hole. The one who’d been staring at her for the past thirty minutes and that she kept accidentally looking at.

"Two hundred and fifty million pounds of gold paid tonight. A full dragon fleet," he said. "And I’ve already taken care of Stonehowl."