I Left The Wolf King Who Loved Me For The Dragon King Chapter 13

I Left The Wolf King Who Loved Me For The Dragon King Chapter 13

Three days before the fated mate rites, the Alpha King delivered the final binding scroll.

Bryony, completely floating on a cloud of her own vanity, eagerly dipped her quill and signed her name across the parchment without a second thought.

Watching her reckless infatuation, Grimm felt a sharp wave of irritation ripple through his chest, yet he felt compelled to offer a word of caution. “You’re signing a royal decree without even scanning the terms? Are you not a fraction afraid the King is laying a trap for you?”

Bryony offered a flippant, dismissive wave of her hand. “I glanced at it, Father. There’s nothing unusual.”

“Besides, the Alpha King’s sovereign signature is already dried on the seal. If I make his heralds wait any longer, he might assume I am harboring reluctance about the alliance. What then?”

Grimm stared at her, a deep, hollow disappointment settling heavily in his gut.

He had spent a lifetime shielding this girl from the world, never realizing until this exact moment just how thoroughly superficial and power-hungry Bryony truly was.

…

The morning of the binding ceremony arrived.

Draped in a magnificent bridal gown embroidered with thousands of rare sea-pearls, Bryony arrived at the ancestral wolf-keep alongside the elite delegates of House Selwyn.

But the moment they crossed the threshold into the grand ceremonial hall, an entirely unexpected figure arrested their attention.

“Ulvarr?!”

Bryony’s shock fractured her pristine composure, her voice screeching across the rafters. “What are you doing here? And why on earth are you confined to a wheelchair?”

Ulvarr merely offered a thin, dangerous smile, his lips remaining sealed.

Beside his chair, a towering shadow guard stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade as he blocked her path. “You stand before the Alpha King. Mind your tongue, lest we take it.”

“The Alpha King?”

The revelation hit the Selwyn delegates like a physical blow. Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine the mysterious, ruthless monarch of the north would be a man so young—let alone the low-ranking vanguard grunt who had been performing domestic chores in their own manor.

Violet broke from the ranks, her features twisting into a desperate, groveling smile as she reached out to grasp Ulvarr’s sleeve.

“Your Majesty… to think our house was blessed with the Alpha King’s presence all along! Had you merely revealed your crown, we would have afforded you the seat of honor at every high banquet. Our past… our past omissions were nothing but a tragic misunderstanding. Forgive our ignorance.”

Ulvarr didn’t utter a word. He looked down at Violet’s trembling hands as if she were nothing but a pile of stagnant refuse.

Grimm shook his head, his mind completely unspooling as he stepped into the light. “How can this be? If you carry the sovereign crown, why on earth did you court Aylin? Why proclaim a wolf-less hybrid as your fated mate? What manner of game is this?”

Grimm turned to demand answers from his daughter, only to find the color had entirely drained from Bryony’s face. He nudged her shoulder.

Bryony collapsed inward, hot tears spilling over her lashes in torrents, instantly ruining her meticulous cosmetic paint. “No… no, this is impossible,” she wailed, her hands shaking violently.

Grimm stared at her, thoroughly bewildered. Bryony had spent moons plotting and weeping to secure a marriage with the Alpha King. Ulvarr was merely one of her discarded targets. Now that the two had fused into the ultimate sovereign power, shouldn’t she be ecstatic?

“Bryony, what is the meaning of this?” Grimm demanded again.

“Allow me to illuminate the math for you, Lord Selwyn,” Ulvarr murmured. He casually flecked a stray speck of dust from his velvet sleeve, his deep voice carrying an arctic chill. He raised his eyes, offering a terrifying smile. “Commence the rites. Bring forth the legitimate groom.”

The heavy iron doors at the eastern flank of the altar swung open.

Two massive vanguard enforcers marched into the hall, leading a towering, obese male between them.

The man appeared to be well past his past his thirties, yet his features were entirely slack, his eyes vacant, and a thick, dim-witted grin stretched across his face as he let out a series of hollow, childish giggles.

Ulvarr’s smile turned thoroughly demonic, looking down at them like a monster straight from the dead-lands. “Allow me to introduce the master of tonight’s altar. My esteemed cousin, Zarath.”

Bryony’s knees buckled, and she dropped straight onto the cold stone floorboards. “No! I won’t do it! I refuse to be bound to that creature—the man is clearly a half-witted fool!”

Grimm and Violet’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets. Roaring in outrage, they lunged forward, throwing their bodies between Bryony and the guards to shield her.

But the midnight vanguard had already closed the circle, cutting off every vector of escape. Two colossal warriors stepped forward, ruthlessly tearing Bryony from her parents’ arms and dragging her up the steps of the sacrificial altar.

“I’m afraid there is no clause for retraction, Lady Selwyn,” the commander rumbled coldly. “You signed the imperial binding scroll with your own hand. You assured your father you had scrutinized every name on the parchment, did you not?”

Bryony thrashed against the iron grips, her screams growing frantic and raw. “I was marrying the Alpha King! I didn’t know his sovereign name! This is treachery! This is a fraud!”

“Ulvarr, look at me! What have I ever done to deserve this malice? Why are you executing me like this?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a desperate, pathetic pleading. “Did you not love me above all others?”

Ulvarr’s expression remained flat, his obsidian eyes completely hollow as he repeated the exact words she had uttered in the privacy of the study, syllable by brutal syllable, “A broken cripple… how could a stray like that ever be worthy of House Selwyn?”

He leaned back against his chair, a mirthless scoff leaving his chest. “Since you harbor such an insatiable craving for status, Bryony, I searched my royal lineage to find a mate whose mental capacity perfectly complements your moral character. You should be singing praises to the altar.”

Bryony was hoisted onto the sacred dais, her voice cracking into a ragged, guttural shriek as the sacred bindings were clamped around her wrists.

Unable to endure the sight of his favored child being broken, Grimm turned toward the wheelchair, bellowing in desperation. “Whatever grievance you harbor against House Selwyn, strike me instead! Take my title, take my lands—I just release my daughter!”

Ulvarr’s silhouette was completely swallowed by the shadows of the high pillars. Looking at that unreadable, distant posture, Grimm was suddenly hit by a violent wave of familiarity.

The memory pulled him back to the afternoon in his study—the day Aylin had stood before his desk and calmly volunteered to throw herself into the dragon’s pyre. He hadn’t been able to read her expression either.

A suffocating weight crashed into Grimm’s chest. Perhaps… perhaps from the very moment he turned his back on his firstborn, every choice this house made had been a swift descent into ruin.

The pride entirely drained from his frame, and his voice dropped into a broken, weeping plea. “Ulvarr… please. I know the ghost of Aylin still commands your heart. I see the rot now. I regret what occurred in this house.”

“Let us form an alliance—I will march to the volcanic caldera with your vanguard, and we will extract Aylin together. We will bring her back to the light, properly. What say you?”

A fraction of the arctic ice in Ulvarr’s gaze seemed to fracture, a lingering shadow of hesitation crossing his sharp features.

But before the silence could settle, the heavy iron doors of the keep were violently thrown open.

A vanguard scout sprinted into the hall, his chest heaving, his voice ringing across the rafters with a manic, breathless urgency. “My King! Heralds from the Obsidian Isle have crossed the border! The Dragon King, Draekon Ashenstar, has issued an imperial decree—the Lunar Deity’s curse has been shattered!”

The scout dropped to one knee, his breath rattling against his armor. “His Majesty has commanded a grand, royal ceremony to commemorate the miracle.”

“And the sovereign Queen riding at the Dragon King’s side… is Her Majesty, Aylin Selwyn!”