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The Dragonless Maid's Dangerous Royal Mate Novel Cover

The Dragonless Maid's Dangerous Royal Mate

As a "Dragonless" handmaiden in a realm ruled by dragon-shifting nobles, she has spent years secretly loving Courtland Beaumont, the flawless heir. But when she finally approaches him at a grand banquet, he humiliates her before everyone, laughing that a worthless Dragonless girl could never be his type. Heartbroken, she flees into a dark corridor and collides with a terrifying stranger, cursing him out before running away. Then the ceremony begins, and her blood runs cold: the man she just insulted is Hardin Beaumont, the Dragon Lord's violent second son, newly returned from exile. His cruel eyes are fixed on her. Having offended both the heir she adored and the dangerous prince she dreads, she tries to slip out—until a chilling voice stops her.
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Chapter 1

CLAIRE'S POV:

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of my heart.

The air in the Beaumont Fortress's Great Hall was warm and thick. It smelled of roasted meat, the expensive Dragon's Breath perfume worn by the nobility, and something else—a faint, sulfurous scent like molten gold that only the Dragon-born seemed to possess.

Overhead, massive Dragon-crystal chandeliers cast a soft, steady glow. They illuminated the giant tapestries hanging on the walls, bringing them to life. Woven with gold thread, they depicted the Beaumont ancestors in their true dragon forms, breathing fire among the clouds.

"Look, Claire. He's got a crowd around him again."

My friend Maeve whispered in my ear, her tone a mix of excitement and teasing.

My eyes drifted across the throng of people, landing on the other side of the hall. Courtland Beaumont stood there, a prince from a storybook, surrounded by a flock of lavishly dressed noblewomen.

He wore a deep blue court tunic, the Beaumont family's dragon crest embroidered in silver thread on his shoulder. His short, golden hair gleamed under the Dragon-crystal light, making him look like a work of art himself.

My heart sped up, a traitor in my chest. I bit down on my lower lip, a nervous habit I couldn't break.

Maeve nudged my arm. "Don't just stare. Tonight's a good chance. Almost everyone is here to celebrate the return of his infamous brother."

I looked down at my own dress, a simple, plain gray. It had no scale patterns, no family crest. It was the typical attire of the Dragonless, a silent brand marking my place in this world.

"Maeve, the gap between us is too wide," I said softly, the bitterness sharp on my own tongue. "I'm just one of the Dragonless. A 'cold-blood' who can't even awaken her dragon soul."

The world was ruled by those who could shift into dragons. Bloodline was everything.

Maeve frowned, her displeasure clear. "Don't say that, Claire. So what if you're Dragonless? You're a thousand times better than those preening noble girls."

I knew she was just trying to comfort me.

My father was a scribe in the court. He had worked his entire life just to give me the chance to be a handmaiden here, to be able to watch Courtland from a distance.

I watched him offer a polite smile to a noble lady, elegantly raising his glass. On his hand was a signet ring carved with the Beaumont crest, a symbol of his absolute power as the heir.

I wished he could see me. Not as a lowly handmaiden, not as one of the Dragonless, but as Claire Bullock.

I clenched my fists. The faint sting of calluses on my fingertips, a permanent reminder of my long hours of labor in the court, grounded me.

Maeve suddenly grabbed my hand. "Stop thinking and do something! At least go say hello. Let him know your name."

My stomach dropped, then filled with a strange, reckless courage.

Why not? Tonight was the welcome feast for Hardin Beaumont. The atmosphere was more relaxed than usual.

Courtland seemed to have just escaped the chattering group of women. He was walking alone toward the balcony.

This was the perfect chance. My breathing grew shallow.

Maeve gave me a little push from behind, her eyes encouraging.

I steadied myself, smoothed down my unadorned skirt, and started walking toward the figure I had admired for countless nights.

Every step felt like I was walking on clouds. My palms began to sweat, and my mind went blank.

What should I say? "Good evening, Lord Courtland"? Too formal. Or maybe...

As my thoughts raced, Courtland stopped.

He turned, as if waiting for someone.

My feet froze. I ducked behind a massive, dragon-carved stone pillar, my heart about to pound out of my chest.

I saw a rare, gentle smile spread across his face.

That smile wasn't for me.

A woman in a fiery red, scale-patterned gown walked up to him. It was Rosalind Sterling, a high-blooded Dragon-born and his former lover.

My courage shattered in an instant, like being doused with a bucket of ice water.

I shrank back behind the pillar, unable to watch anymore.

Maeve found me, her face etched with worry. "What happened?"

I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Nothing. I just... lost my nerve."

But I knew I had to do something tonight. I couldn't hide in the shadows forever. I took a deep breath and told Maeve, "I'll wait. For a better moment."

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