The Werewolf and the Dragon King

Chapter 7

-SELENE-

General Rasmus left the king’s room and crossed the castle, his guards dragging me behind like I was some rogue mutt. The place was even more stunning during the day with sunlight spilling in, casting golden warmth across the polished stone floor.

It didn’t match the ice queen’s vibe at all. She probably slept in a coffin somewhere, tucked in a crypt with velvet drapes and zero soul. That’s how she keeps her Grace Kelly beauty frozen in time.

Well, if Grace Kelly were a soulless b***h.

We descended a few staircases, the temperature dropping with every level. By the time we hit the dungeons, my heart felt like it had shrunk to half its size.

Back home, we had cells under our packhouse, too, and they weren’t exactly cozy. But this? This was worse. Way worse.

There were no windows. Just damp stone and gloom. The air was thick, heavy with a mixture of mold, sweat, and body fluids. It clung to my skin like a curse. Strange torches flickered with magical light, casting shadows that danced like ghosts. Somewhere in the distance, someone moaned. Low. Broken.

Rasmus was greeted by the guards like a hero. Respect, admiration, all that fuss. He was clearly a good man. Too bad he was such an ass to me all the time.

They spoke in hushed tones, too fast for me to catch. Then Rasmus vanished, and the guards marched me down a corridor, stopping in front of a murky cell.

Three side walls were made of jagged stone, and the front was barred with metal. A dark, sturdy type. Not steel, not silver either—thank the Goddess. My body was still weak from the silver baton Rasmus used. My wolf was healing slowly. She wouldn’t take another blow easily.

The guards shoved me inside without a word and slammed the door shut with a loud metallic clank. I wanted to protest, but what was the point? I had to prove I wasn’t some dark sorceress.

Hopefully, the priestess would show up soon and confirm I’d been telling the truth. I didn’t want to think about the alternative.

Inside, the light was dim. Again, no windows. A cot sat in the corner, and two metal buckets opposite, one with fresh water, one empty.

So much for privacy, I thought.

For the first time since Lohe and I crossed the portal, I was alone—just me and my thoughts. I missed my family. My pack. My university classes. I missed being treated like a person, not a threat.

And what stung the most was my mate’s coldness. I left everything behind for him, and he doesn’t even remember me.

But I couldn’t spiral now. I needed to stay sane, get my wolf back to full strength. And pray to the Moon Goddess that the chalice’s magic fades soon and my Lohe loves me again.

"Hey! My water’s out!" a rough voice shouted from the cell next to mine.

Silence. In the distance, boots scraped against the stone floor.

"I need more! My bucket’s empty!" he tried again, desperation bleeding through.

A low moan echoed from far away, the kind that made my skin crawl.

"It’s been two days. I’m thirsty." He croaked.

A guard finally showed up. "Shut up, Pagar. You know the rules. One bucket a week."

"I know. But I tripped and spilled it. Can’t you bring me some, please? I’m really thirsty, man," Pagar pleaded.

"No! Stop yelling. If you make me come back here, you’re dead," the guard snapped, stomping off.

Pagar exhaled, heavy and defeated.

I glanced at my bucket. A metal cup floated on top. I filled it and moved toward the wall dividing our cells.

"Psst. Pagar? I’ve got some spare water."

"Who’s there?" His voice came closer to the bars.

"I’m Selene Stark."

"Eerik Pagar. Nice to meet you. Thank you for the offer. I’ll gladly accept it."

I pushed my hand through the bars with the cup, hoping he wasn’t some sharp-toothed monster ready to chomp my hand off as a snack.

I was taking a chance. He was a prisoner, must’ve done something bad to deserve it.

"You didn’t," Mona whispered in my head.

And he was thirsty. I couldn’t just sit here and let someone dry out while I had a full bucket. I wasn’t that heartless.

"The ice queen would," she added.

Bulky, freckled forearms appeared at the edge of my cell, his massive, dirty hands grabbing the cup like it was a treasure.

Fast and cautious, the hand vanished the next second.

"Want some more?" I offered as soon as the gulping stopped.

"Please," he rasped, handing the empty cup back.

I repeated the process two more times before he said it was enough.

"Selene Stark, I owe you my life. The guards would’ve let me die of thirst before Monday. That’s when they replace the buckets. I wouldn’t have lasted."

"Don’t they bring food to the prisoners?" My throat was dry just thinking about it.

"Not for everyone. Some of us get food sometimes. It’s their favorite kind of torture."

"That’s inhumane!" I gasped.

"I’ve still got some reserve fat stored," he chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Wish we were outside. I’d bake you one of my specialties."

"You’re a baker? That’s so cool," I said, settling near the wall between our cells. "Why’d they bring you here? Don’t tell me the queen didn’t like the filling in one of your pastries." I laughed, then winced. "Oh Goddess. I was joking. Please don’t say that’s actually why."

"No," he chuckled. "My brother lives in Zarvia. My son was sick. He has asthma. My brother came to visit. He is an apothecary and has access to rare medicine. But someone tipped off the guards. They came to kill him. I helped him escape and got arrested."

"Ah. The ‘trespassers must be killed on sight’ rule," I added.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Now I’m waiting for the trial. If I’m lucky, I’ll get off with a few lashes."

Between the bars, I caught a glimpse of his features. A bulky man in his late forties, round face covered in a thick beard. Even in the dim light, I could see the red in his hair and beard.

"My father used to say war brings out the worst in people. Crazy laws pass." I let out a puff of air, my throat tight with memories.

"Fear brings out the worst, war or not," he said grimly.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, shifting my leg.

"Two years, I guess. It isn't easy to keep track if you don't see the daylight. I'm waiting for a trial that never comes," he said, but then took a breath and changed the tone. "Enough about me. Tell me, Selene. What brings a young girl like you to my humble dungeon?"

I grinned. But it faded fast as I started to tell him my story.

I don’t know what came over me, but I told him everything. From meeting Lohe in that cave, the cursed chalice, the crossing, to being arrested for sorcery.

He was the first person in this strange realm to really show me some kindness. He listened patiently to my words, asking questions now and then. He never judged.

By the end, I exhaled heavily. It felt good to get it all out of my chest. Like a purge.

"I’m sorry," he said.

"It’s okay. All will be cleared soon," I repeated the mantra that’s kept me standing since I arrived. "They’re bringing a priestess from the south. She’ll attest to my innocence."

"I wouldn’t be so sure, Selene," Eerik said, his tone dark.

A cold rush hit my chest, making my blood pound.

"What do you mean?"

"The priestesses… they’re in the queen Maeve’s pocket," he paused, and his tone dropped an octave. "They’ll say whatever she wants them to."