/1/126653/coverbig.jpg?v=808274b67c4a9ce89c7883174aee2e27&imageMogr2/format/webp)
RE'S
trying to calm the fra
d meat, the expensive Dragon's Breath perfume worn by the nobility, and something else
giant tapestries hanging on the walls, bringing them to life. Woven with gold thread, they
e's got a crowd
in my ear, her tone a mix
side of the hall. Courtland Beaumont stood there, a prince from
idered in silver thread on his shoulder. His short, golden hair gleamed u
chest. I bit down on my lower lip,
t's a good chance. Almost everyone is here to
scale patterns, no family crest. It was the typical attire of
bitterness sharp on my own tongue. "I'm just one of the Drag
who could shift into dragon
t, Claire. So what if you're Dragonless? You're a th
s just trying
entire life just to give me the chance to be a handmaid
raising his glass. On his hand was a signet ring carved with t
lowly handmaiden, not as one of the
es on my fingertips, a permanent reminder of m
thinking and do something! At least
hen filled with a str
east for Hardin Beaumont. The atmo
d the chattering group of women. He
ct chance. My brea
le push from behind,
ned skirt, and started walking toward the
ing on clouds. My palms began t
evening, Lord Courtland
s raced, Cour
s if waiting
sive, dragon-carved stone pillar, my
ntle smile sprea
le wasn'
walked up to him. It was Rosalind Sterling, a
instant, like being doused
d the pillar, unabl
face etched with wor
g a smile. "Nothing. I
't hide in the shadows forever. I took a deep brea
/1/126653/coverbig.jpg?v=808274b67c4a9ce89c7883174aee2e27&imageMogr2/format/webp)