The Dragon Court smelled like smoke, gold, and people who had never begged for their lives.
I was dragged before the throne with stolen jewels sewn into my apron.
Theft from the royal hoard meant execution by flame.
King Aurelian leaned forward, eyes molten and bored.
"Any final claim?"
Panic chose my mouth before wisdom could stop it. "I am your fated mate."
The court burst into laughter.
Then every dragon brand in the hall ignited, and Aurelian's gold mark appeared across my collarbone.
The king stopped breathing.