The Godblood Bride: Mending the Cursed Dragon Lord

Anya (Elsa) POV:

"By the decree of the Dragon King," the royal envoy read from a golden scroll, his monotone voice echoing in the vast, opulent hall of House Beaumont.

"The betrothal of Isis Beaumont to Lord Gideon Carlisle is hereby dissolved. In her stead, her dragonless adopted sister, Elsa Beaumont, shall be given to the crippled Lord of the South."

The envoy paused, casting a brief, pitying glance my way.

"It is noted that Lord Carlisle's dragon soul was severely damaged, leaving him paralyzed. A dragonless bride is deemed a suitable match. The true noble blood of Isis Beaumont shall be reserved for the Crown Prince."

The formal descriptions hung heavily in the air. One a golden child, the other a worthless outcast meant to be thrown to a monster.

The silence in the room was thick, but it didn't weigh on me.

I sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair, my hands resting loosely in my lap, calmly observing the theater playing out around me.

My adoptive father, Lord Corbin Beaumont, stood by the gilded mirror. His back was rigidly straight, putting on a show of grim authority. But to my awakened senses, the overextension of his shoulder muscles betrayed pure, anxious tension.

He was nervous. I found that amusing.

"The wedding carriage will arrive at dawn," the envoy concluded, neatly rolling the scroll. With a curt bow, he turned and walked out of the manor.

The silence returned.

Corbin finally turned to me, his expression a carefully constructed mask of coldness. He pointedly did not look me in the eye.

"Put on the silk, get in the carriage, and take your sister's place in the monster's bed," he ordered, his voice dripping with casual cruelty. "Consider this your sole duty to this house."

He braced himself, likely waiting for the hysterics, the tears, or the desperate begging that the old Elsa would have provided. To him, I was just damaged goods being offloaded at a steep discount to preserve an alliance.

Instead, I stood up smoothly, brushing a piece of lint from my cheap linen gown.

"Tomorrow at dawn," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet room, entirely devoid of tremor. "I will be ready."

Corbin blinked, caught completely off guard by my sudden compliance. "You... you will?"

I tilted my head, letting a cold smile touch my lips. "On one condition."

I took a slow, deliberate step toward him. "From the second my foot touches that carriage, my bloodline is severed from House Beaumont. Every debt, every humiliation, every scrap of stale bread your household threw at me is paid in full."

Corbin's face flushed an ugly crimson. "You ungrateful wretch! You dare negotiate with me? You will obey the King's decree, or I will have you dragged to the Ironscale Duchy in chains!"

"Drag me?" I murmured, stopping inches from his chest. My eyes, once dull and subservient, now held a faint, molten amber gleam.

"There will be no need for chains. But by the ancient rite of blood-renunciation, I am no longer your daughter. If you ever attempt to claim authority over me again, I will burn your house to ash."

The air turned scorching hot for a fleeting second-a manifestation of pure, suppressed dragon aura. Corbin's knees buckled slightly. He stared at me in horror, unable to comprehend the terrifying pressure radiating from a supposedly powerless girl.

His desperation to pawn me off outweighed his pride. "Done!" he spat, grinding his teeth. "Go die in Godspire Castle, you insolent viper!"

"Consider it done," I said calmly.

Before he could recover from his visible shock, I turned on my heel and walked up to my tiny, drafty bedroom in the attic.

I was sitting at my cracked vanity, looking out at the quiet night, when my door burst open without a knock.

The cloying scent of rare dragon-roses, heavily laced with unearned triumph, announced her arrival.

My dear sister, Isis. She was flanked by her ever-present shadow, Livia.

"Oh, my poor little sister," Isis cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she glided into the dim room. She wore a fiery red silk gown that highlighted her perfect curves.

She came to stand behind me, her fingers reaching out to stroke my hair as if comforting a pet. "I was so heartbroken to hear the news."

Livia chimed in with a cruel giggle. "Don't be so harsh, sister. Perhaps the crippled beast has a taste for sickly little things. I just hope you survive the winter. His last two brides did not."

I remained perfectly still, watching their reflections in the mirror. When I gave them no reaction, Isis's facade quickly cracked.

She sneered, leaning in close so her breath brushed my ear. "You know, being dragonless, you were never worthy of anything good. You are just a sacrificial lamb for my happiness."

She reached out, grabbing my cheap wooden hairbrush from the table, and threw it to the floor with a loud clatter.

"You belong in the dirt, Elsa," Isis whispered venomously. "Don't ever forget your place."

Slowly, deliberately, I rose from my chair and turned to face them.

A bone-chilling smile spread across my face.

"Is that so?" I whispered softly.