The dragon therapist hummed as she read from her notes. “It says here that you shot your suitor with several blunted arrows while yelling, ‘Feel the love, bitches!’ and ‘It’s not real love unless it fucking hurts!’”

  “Wellll,” the princess drawled, shrugging. “It was Cupid’s arrows.”

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  “So… you named your bow Cupid?” The dragon arched a brow.

  “It’s a good name for a long bow! And besides, I was just trying to spread some love.” The princess huffed, rolling her eyes. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle my love language.”