Chapter 3

Elaine POV:

Before I could smooth down my wrinkled skirt beside the balustrade, a crowd of nobles searching for the crown prince poured through the garden archway.

Brittnie spotted me standing in the dim light, then looked at Grant's rigid back. A vicious glint flashed in her eyes.

She threw a hand over her mouth and raised her voice. "Good heavens, Lord Marshal, why were you alone in the dark with this... unclean woman?"

Every head in the courtyard whipped toward me, and a wave of nasty whispers rose over the hedges.

Grant halted and turned around, his golden eyes narrowing with cold disdain as he looked at me.

I straightened my back and stepped into the torchlight, staring Brittnie down. "I was merely passing through. Keep your filthy imagination to yourself."

The Grand Elder of the Elder Council stepped forward, leaning heavily on his dragon-bone staff. His sharp eyes locked onto the golden glow still fading beneath Grant's collar. "Lord Marshal, that light from your dragon core just now... was it the Fated Flame?"

Dead silence fell over the garden. Not a single noble dared to breathe.

Grant's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. Keeping his eyes fixed on my face, he raised his right hand. Pure white, sacred dragonfire erupted across his palm.

Speaking in ancient Dragon Speech, his voice rang out over the courtyard. "I, Grant Walters, swear by the dragonfire to reject you, Elaine Mcfarland, as my fated mate!"

Even without a dragon soul, the broken bond tore through my chest like a giant invisible fist crushing my heart. A muffled groan escaped my lips, and my knees buckled, slamming hard onto the freezing paving stones.

Cruel laughter burst from the crowd. Jaye's shrill voice cut above the rest. "Did you hear that? Even the Crown Prince refuses to touch dirty trash!"

I bit down on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, refusing to let them hear me cry out.

Just as Grant curled his fingers to close the white flame, a booming voice carrying absolute royal authority thundered from the upper terrace. "Halt!"

King Reginald descended the broad stone steps, flanked by Royal Guards restraining eight snorting gray-scaled drakes. Upon the king's brow sat the Dragon Crown, forged from the First Dragon's core. It flared with blinding golden fire, its ancient pressure slamming down on the courtyard until every single person—including Grant—was forced to their knees.

Reginald stopped in front of his son and looked down. "Take back your oath, Grant."

Fighting the crushing weight of the Dragon Crown, Grant forced his head up through gritted teeth. "Father, she is a ruined Dragonless outcast! She is not worthy of the Dragon Queen's seat!"

Reginald let out a cold laugh and slammed the butt of his scepter against the flagstones. "The will of the First Dragon is law! If you complete this rejection tonight..."

The king leaned down, dropping his voice so only the three of us could hear. "You will never wear this Dragon Crown."

Grant's slit pupils shrank to pinpricks. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists against the stone floor as he stared at his father.

For the throne he had bled for his entire life, Grant squeezed his eyes shut and crushed the white dragonfire in his bare palm.

Breaking the rejection ritual mid-oath triggered an immediate backlash. Grant's shoulders jerked, and he coughed up a mouthful of bright golden blood onto the stones.

The surrounding nobles stared in stunned silence. None of them had expected the supreme Dragon King to force a royal marriage with a disgraced commoner.

Reginald turned his cold, calculating gaze down to me. "Prepare yourself. Three months from now, on the Night of the Sacred Flame, you two will be wed."

Kneeling on the cold stone, I stared at the burning golden crown above me. A suffocating wave of dread washed over me. I could not marry a tyrant who hated my guts and would gladly strangle me in my sleep.

Bracing my hand against the stone balustrade, I hauled myself to my feet and bowed my head to hide the defiance in my eyes.

Grant wiped the golden blood from his chin with the back of his glove and stepped close to me. "You won," he whispered, his voice dripping with murder. "But I will make your life a living hell."

I raised my head and met his murderous glare with a mocking smile. "Then I will see you in hell, Your Highness."

Across the courtyard, Preston raised his crystal goblet toward me with a slow, hungry smile.