I Left The Wolf King Who Loved Me For The Dragon King Chapter 04

I Left The Wolf King Who Loved Me For The Dragon King Chapter 04

The second I stepped onto the grand staircase, Bryony materialized from the shadows of the upper corridor. She lunged forward, shoving her shoulder viciously into mine. “Get out of my way.”

The impact sent me stumbling backward, my lower back crashing hard against the heavy stone balustrade. Before I could fall, a pair of strong arms caught me by the waist, anchoring me. Ulvarr.

His face darkened instantly, his towering frame cutting off Bryony’s path. “Apologize to her.”

Bryony scoffed, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief. “To her? What is she, a servant? By what right do you command me to bow to a wolf-less stray? You are overstepping your bounds, Ulvarr.”

Ulvarr’s eyes swept down to my lower back, spotting the dark flush of a fresh bruise already rising through the fabric of my shirt. The air around him turned arctic.

“Do not force me to show you what overstepping truly looks like,” he rumbled, his voice laced with a lethal threat.

Bryony flinched, her haughty demeanor fracturing as tears welled in her eyes, transforming her instantly into a trembling, defenseless creature.

I had spent years wishing someone would stand behind me in this house and take my side. But now that it was happening, it felt utterly absurd.

Because beneath the scent of pine and rain on Ulvarr’s skin, I caught the distinct, heavy fragrance of Bryony’s milk-honey bath hidden in his collar.

They had clearly enjoyed a very intimate afternoon together before stepping out.

I pulled away from his grip, removing his hands from my waist.

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice deadpan. “The family banquet begins shortly. I need to change into my formal attire.”

Ulvarr stared at me, unable to mask the flicker of astonishment in his obsidian eyes. “You’re letting her walk away without an apology?”

I let out a cold, sharp breath. “There’s no point.”

A strange, unsettled look crossed Ulvarr’s features. He quickly stepped closer, reaching for my hand. “Let me escort you tonight, sweet. I can’t bear the thought of being apart from you among the elders.”

“Suit yourself,” I replied, my tone flat as ice as I walked past him.

…

Later that evening, the great hall of the wolf-keep was bathed in golden torchlight.

It was the first time Ulvarr, the “lowly vanguard warrior,” had ever been permitted to attend a high-tier pack function.

He wore nothing but a simple leather jerkin over a tunic, yet his striking features and sheer presence instantly arrested the room. The moment he crossed the threshold, the sea of aristocrats parted for him.

Whispers broke out across the banquet tables.

“Is that Aylin’s mate?”

“Look at them… they actually look remarkably well-suited.”

I remained indifferent, staring ahead.

But the murmurs were enough to drive Bryony into a quiet frenzy. She practically threw herself into her mother’s lap, weeping softly to draw attention.

Her mother, Violet, smoothed Bryony’s golden hair, raising her voice so the surrounding elders could hear her lament.

“My poor, fragile Bryony… condemned to be exiled to that dragon’s caldera. A wasteland of eternal ash and suffocating fire—how is a delicate creature like her supposed to survive? Why shouldn’t the wolf-less bastard take her place in the alliance instead?”

A mirthless smile touched my lips.

It seemed every single member of the Selwyn household shared the same philosophy: sending me to the monster’s den was a perfectly acceptable sacrifice.

The Dragon King’s peak was a living purgatory for Bryony.

Did they truly believe it was a paradise for me?

Then, ensuring the entire room was watching, Violet unclasped a heavy glod chain from her neck and presented it to Bryony.

“This pendant is the ancestral token of the true Selwyn heir,” Violet announced proudly. “Keep it safe, Bryony. Let it remind you that this pack will always be the shield at your back.”

“No.”

The deep, resonant voice cut through the silence like a thunderclap.

Ulvarr was half-reclined against the high-backed chair, a casual, aristocratic grace rolling off his shoulders that completely contradicted his low station.

A thin, dangerous smile played on his lips as his sharp gaze pinned Bryony to her seat.

“The legitimate heir to the Selwyn line is Aylin, is she not?” Ulvarr challenged, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. “I was under the impression that this exact heirloom was gifted to Aylin by her biological mother twenty winters ago.”

I leaned in, keeping my voice low and brittle. “I don’t care about the glod, Ulvarr. Drop it.”

Ulvarr offered me a fleeting, reassuring smile, but the moment he turned back to Bryony, his gaze became deliberately heavy—almost salacious.

“Tell you what, Bryony,” he murmured, his voice laced with a dark, teasing undertone. “Why don’t you beg me a little? If you ask nicely, perhaps I can convince your sister to let you keep it.”

A sudden chill settled in my gut.

I was nothing but a convenient excuse for their flirtatious games.

I had spent my entire youth praying for someone to defend me. But now I realized the only person I could rely on was myself.

Violet slammed her palm onto the table, erupting in fury.

“Aylin! You insolent wretch! How dare you allow your stray of a mate to humiliate your sister in front of the high council!”

She pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’ve been harboring these treacherous ambitions for a long time, haven’t you? You think you deserve the inheritance? Delusional! If you do not drop to your knees and beg Bryony’s forgiveness this instant, I will have the elders strip you of your name and exile you to the dead-lands!”

She sneered, her mask completely slipping. “You’re just like that weak-willed mother of yours—nothing but a low-born mongrel!”

My fingers curled into tight fists. I raised my head, my gaze locking directly onto my stepsister.

“Bryony,” I said, my voice carrying a cold, piercing clarity that silenced the room. “Let’s settle this. A formal trial.”

Bryony’s smug expression faltered for a fraction of a second, her posture stiffening. “A trial of what?”

“A trial of the bloodline. Let us see whose inheritance of the Lunar Deity’s magic is pure.”

I took a step closer to the high table. “Whoever wins takes the ancestral pendant. Whoever loses surrenders everything.”

An uneasy murmur rolled through the elders. It was absurd. Everyone knew I was a wolf-less hybrid—by what right did I have to challenge the favored daughter?

Bryony clearly reached the same conclusion. She smoothed her silk skirts and let out a ringing, mocking laugh. “How amusing! Very well, I’ll indulge in this little pre-banquet entertainment. But remember your terms, Aylin—when you fail, you will crawl to my feet and apologize on your knees!”

Within minutes, an elder brought out two wounded woodland rabbits, placing them on the stone dais between us.

We both extended our hands over the small creatures.

Instantly, twin bursts of celestial light erupted from our palms. But as the magic flooded the room, the contrast was blinding. The luminescence radiating from my skin was vibrant, flawless, and so pure it cast Bryony’s flickering, erratic sparks into complete shadow.

The color drained from Bryony’s face in an instant, her voice cracking as she stumbled backward. “No… this is impossible!”