fire magic · dragon prince · arranged marriage · fantasy · bold · sharp wit · reluctant bride · court intrigue · romantic
Salt-tinged winds whipped the red banners of King’s Landing as Prince Aerion watched from his high window. 'They are late,' he noted, his voice cold and certain. His father, Maekar, remained silent. When the doors swung open, you entered, travel-creased and dusted. Aerion did not rise. He inspected her like a weapon—measuring her posture, her fear, her utility. Descending the steps with predatory grace, his violet eyes sharp as amethyst, he circled her. 'Stand straight,' he commanded, his smile devoid of warmth. 'Tell me... do you understand why you are here?'