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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 publicly humiliates her, laughing that a worthless girl like her could never be his type. Heartbroken, she flees—only to collide with a terrifying stranger, mock and curse him, then discover he is Hardin Beaumont, the Dragon Lord's violent second son, newly returned from exile. Having offended both the heir she loved and the dangerous prince she fears, she tries to slip away. But his chilling voice stops her cold, demanding to know if she looks down on him—or the Beaumont family.
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Chapter 3

CLAIRE'S POV:

The day after the feast was the young nobles' court strategy class. The noise in the corridor pulled me from my thoughts. Last night's accidental touch still made my heart skip a beat.

I walked into the classroom, which was already half-full. It was a spacious room, devoid of lavish decorations, with only rows of dark wooden desks and a map of the kingdom on the wall.

Maeve had saved me a seat and was waving at me excitedly.

I walked over and saw an empty chair next to her. "What's this?" I asked, confused.

Maeve gave a mysterious smile and lowered her voice. "I found out Lord Courtland is auditing the class today. I picked this spot up front. He'll probably sit here."

My heart leaped into my throat, a mix of anticipation and anxiety. If I could sit next to him...

Just then, the court official in charge of seating arrangements walked in. He held a parchment scroll, his expression stern.

He cleared his throat and began reading names, assigning each person a seat. "... Miss Maeve Riley, third row, seventh seat."

Maeve's face fell. She was being sent to the other side of the room.

The official continued, "... Miss Rosalind Sterling, first row, third seat." I watched as Rosalind rose gracefully and took her place near the front.

Soon, only a few of us were left—the lowest-ranking Dragonless and other auditors.

The official didn't even look at us. He just waved a dismissive hand toward the back corners of the room. "You lot, find a place to sit."

It was a naked, dismissive gesture, as if we weren't living people but objects to be placed. The class seating was just another display of power.

My cheeks burned with heat. Maeve started to protest, but I pulled her back. I knew these were the rules, the unshakeable order of the dragon world.

A few other servants with Dragonless status hung their heads and shuffled to the back.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the humiliation. I walked to the very last row and sat in the seat closest to the wall. From here, I could barely see anything but the backs of the nobles' heads.

Courtland walked in at that moment. He wasn't in his formal attire but in a fitted training uniform that made him look even more imposing. He went straight to the front row and sat in the empty seat next to Rosalind.

They shared a smile and exchanged a few quiet words. The sight was a thorn in my heart.

Maeve shot me a sympathetic look from across the room.

I forced my gaze away and pulled a papyrus scroll and a charcoal pencil from my cloth bag.

If I couldn't stand beside him in status, then I would prove my worth in other ways.

My father used to say that knowledge was the only weapon for the Dragonless. I couldn't shift into a dragon, couldn't fight on a battlefield, but I could learn strategy and bring honor to my family.

I straightened my back, focusing all my attention on the lesson.

The Elder in charge of the class walked in, and the lesson began.

He lectured on the defense strategies for the kingdom's eastern border. The content was dry and complex.

Many of the noble children were yawning or whispering amongst themselves.

But I listened intently, scribbling notes on my papyrus. Every defensive node, every resource allocation, I committed it all to memory.

I told myself I wasn't learning for anyone else. I was learning for myself, so I wouldn't be completely abandoned by this world.

I felt a faint gaze from the front of the room.

I looked up sharply, but I only saw Courtland's profile as he focused on the lecturer. It must have been my imagination.

I gave a self-deprecating smile. How could it be? In his eyes, I was probably no different from the desks and chairs in this room.

I refocused, burying my head in my notes.

The charcoal pencil scratched against the papyrus.

The sound was surprisingly clear in the quiet back of the room. It felt like my own silent declaration.

I, Claire Bullock, would never just accept my fate.

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