Four years ago, Marcus Blackthorn rejected me at our Dragon bond ceremony. He chose Clara Linwood instead. Her bloodline carried the purity of an ancient dragon clan, and with her at his side, he could secure his claim as Lord Blackthorn. He told me to wait one year, promising that once his position was secure, the title of Lady Blackthorn would eventually be mine. Everyone laughed at me for believing I had ever been anything more than a useful promise. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break, and I left without begging for a place in a future he had already denied me. I left his territory in silence and followed the Dragon Goddess’s sign to my second-chance mate, Caelan Frost. He was the Frost Dragon King, ruler of every dragon clan, and even a Black Dragon lord like Marcus had to bow before him. Four years later, I returned to Blackthorn Keep beside Caelan Frost, the Dragon King. Four years later, I returned to Blackthorn Keep beside Caelan Frost, the Dragon King. At the city gate, Marcus stopped me. He looked at my plain cloak, then threw a servant’s gray livery at my feet. “Stop pretending you have somewhere better to go,” he said. “My household happens to need a nursery maid. Take the work. It is the only future you have left.”
