Page 35 of Devoted to the Dragon

It’s quiet after that. I get dressed in the back seat, trying to wrangle myself into leather as we drive steep mountain roads. It’s comical even to me, but in the front seat, Gunnar is stoic.

He’s been nervous since we entered the Alpha King’s territory, eyes scanning the tree line. It’s been a human lifetime, maybe two, since I’ve ventured so far on foot from my lair. I’ve seen the wolf center change over time through an aerial view. It’s obvious from the burnt-out old villages and silent forest that it isn’t the same place I last visited.

It’s only a few hours’ drive north. We have to pass through the Outskirts to get to the North Pass and the wolf capital. As we emerge from the forest and into the Outskirts, the trees are replaced by row after row of tents. It’s late evening, and the place is swarming with alpha wolves. All of them are young. All of them look hungry.

“You were here before?” I ask, turning from the window to look at Gunnar.

He swallows loudly, eyes never leaving the road. “I was luckier than most. I could fight.” He clears his throat. “But yeah, I lived in the tents for a few years.”

“How many wolves would you guess?” I ask, unable to think of anything other than a younger version of Gunnar trying to make it in this awful place.

“Less than a thousand maybe? It changes. But after a place turns, they bring survivors here. There are no packs in the Outskirts. Only those who live and those who don’t.”

My fire is warm in my throat, my dragon’s hiss underlying my words. “This is the Alpha King’s great plan?”

Gunnar’s sarcasm is thick, and his voice is dark when he speaks. “Isn’t the king generous? His guards patrol the Outskirts. They give a weekly food allotment and turn their backs to most things that happen in the tents. Half of the shitthey start anyway. How do you think I made it into the fights? It’s their underground.” He eyes me in the rearview mirror.

I sit up, putting my chin on his shoulder.“It seems like maybe we all need a new plan.”

We fall silent again, my insides heating and steam billowing from my nose the longer I think about it. I have to sit back and open the windows so I don’t accidentally steam my wolf.

When we get into the North Pass proper, the scenery looks as I remember, which pisses me off even more. It’s as if this area is completely untouched by the crisis. Huge log pack homes dot our climb up the mountain, each grander than the last, until we’ve arrived at the Alpha King’s estate and the city's center.

Outside Council headquarters, the staff are there to greet us.

I allow Gunnar to take my hand and escort me from the back of the SUV, but I keep walking past the staff.

“Dragoness, you’re early,” an alpha guard says, unsure what to do.

“I need a word with the king,” I shoot over my shoulder instead of a greeting.

Guards at the front eye my horns and scales but don’t stop me. That’s smart. My dragon is at the surface, and I don’t plan to wait.

I move quickly through the halls, the guardsman hollering behind me to wait. The Council’s wards are weak. Their healers stopped being powerful enough to work against my magic long ago, and I move unchecked.

At least that’s one perk of being ancient.

As I walk with purpose toward the king’s office, Gunnar hurries to catch up, a grin on his face. “I’m hot for the Goddess of Vengeance vibes you’re rocking right now, but we came to hear what the Council has to say. Sadly, it won’t involve turning the king into charcoal.”

I stop on my heel at the king’s outer chamber door and turn toward Gunnar, nose still billowing steam. This isn’t my territory, and these aren’t my wolves. I know this crisis isn’t easy to manage, but the king’s way isn’t working.

Gunnar doesn’t touch me, but even though I’m one sneeze away from becoming a volcano, I can see he wants to.

“I get it. But we should be smart, yeah?” he asks softly.

I close my eyes, forcing my dragon back enough that I won’t breathe fire, and open the door.

Inside, several wolves are sitting at a table. All are older alphas, most I’ve met. But at the end of the table, next to the king, is a young woman I’ve never seen. She’s raven-haired and all sharp angles.

They brought in someone. A human, possibly? Something about her sends my dragon into overdrive, and I sniff the air but find only wolves.

Chatter around the table dies, and the king stands in greeting. “Welcome, dragoness. How was your travel? You made quick time. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

The king is a thick-muscled man with a jagged scar that runs from his chin to well beyond his hairline. The scar is one he earned when he unseated the previous Alpha King a little more than fifty years ago in an unexpected challenge. It’s a stark reminder of his dominance and power, of how he usurped a family line that had been ruling for generations.

But I’m no wolf, and I don’t bow to him. “A word, Alpha.”

“After you’ve settled. Drinks in my office? Let me have the staff bring you dinner.”

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