By tradition, Drakon was the Crown Prince, so he and Vania entered the palace first. Lysander and I followed behind.

He held my hand the entire journey. His palm was warm, and his touch brought me a quiet sense of safety. I stole glances at him from time to time.

His face was handsome, his posture tall and straight. Dark brows like forged blades carried a cold edge. His deep eyes, like frozen pools, held a certain regal authority.

Suddenly, his gaze met mine. I looked away quickly, my ears growing warm. The hand holding mine tightened slightly.

Inside the palace, we parted ways to go to our separate chambers.

Drakon, who had been laughing and whispering with Vania the whole way, suddenly stopped.

He turned to Lysander, mockery dripping from every word.

"Third brother, let me give you some friendly advice. Watch your filthy princess carefully. Do not let her pollute the dragon royal bloodline."

Vania tugged his sleeve with feigned innocence. "My prince, do not speak of my sister that way. She would never do anything shameful."

Her eyes held no trace of reproach. Only calculation.

The two of them performed their little duet perfectly. Quite the married couple.

Lysander gripped my hand tighter. His voice was cold steel.

"Brother, you should worry about your own little Ice Blue bride."

Vania's face went pale. Her status was her deepest wound. She glared at me with pure venom.

I lifted my lips in a small smile. "I wish the Crown Prince and my sister every happiness. May you soon give birth to a Royal Gold heir."

"I have pure blood," Drakon boasted, pulling Vania into his arms. "Of course I will father a golden dragon."

A cripple with no ability to father children.

Where did his confidence come from?

I let Lysander lead me away. There was no point in fighting now.

The best was yet to come.

When we reached our chambers, Lysander's expression grew troubled. His lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes burned with determination.

"From this day forward, I will protect you," he said.

I laughed softly. "I believe you. But we have made an enemy of the Crown Prince. Neither of us will have an easy life from now on. Unless..."

He looked at me, confused.

I let a mischievous gleam enter my eyes. I leaned up and kissed him.

Unless we give birth to a golden dragon first. And send Drakon to his grave.

One month passed. There was no news from their chambers. But I began to feel unwell in the mornings.

The healer confirmed it. I was with child.

King Theron was overjoyed. He sent lavish gifts and issued a royal decree: whoever produced a golden heir would abdicate the throne to them immediately.

The same decree as in my past life.

But this time, I would be the mother.

The news reached Drakon within hours. He stormed into our chambers, his face twisted with rage.

"What do you have to be proud of, Seraphina? You will only give birth to some lowly Ice Blue dragon. Nothing worth boasting about!"

Ice Blue dragon.

The words cut deeper than he knew.

Beneath my wide sleeves, my hands curled into fists. In my past life, I had performed the Blood Rite for him. I had bled myself dry to give him a child. And he had murdered that child.

I closed my eyes and buried my hatred deep in my heart.

The vengeance for my child's death and my own suffering. I will have it.

Lysander stepped between us. "No matter what rank our child is," he said quietly, "it is my child. I will protect both mother and child with my life."

Warmth spread through my heart, like a gentle ray of sunlight slipping into a dark room.

Drakon's face turned purple. He spun on his heel and stormed out.

Another month passed. Still no news from Drakon's chambers. The King grew impatient. He summoned the royal healer and marched to the Crown Prince's quarters.

I took Lysander's hand. "Let us go."

I could not wait to see Drakon's face when he learned the truth about himself.

When Drakon saw the King arrive with the royal healer, his expression darkened instantly.

"Do I look like a sick man?" he demanded.

The healer trembled. He glanced at the King.

King Theron frowned and waved his hand. "Examine the Crown Princess first."

They were avoiding the real issue. If Vania was found to be ill, the dragon palace would save face. But if the problem was Drakon...

I wondered how they would handle that.

Drakon's eyes met mine. His gaze was dark and stormy, filled with endless fury.

"Seraphina," he hissed. "You came to mock me? What, you think because you married my brother you can produce a golden dragon?"

He stepped closer. "Do not forget. My brother is only a Silver dragon. You may be Royal Gold, but I know exactly what kind of creature you are. You will never give birth to a golden dragon."

He was so certain.

Lysander moved to shield me. He raised one eyebrow. "Brother, why not let the healer do his work first?"

Vania looked reluctant, but she could not refuse the King and the Crown Prince. She held out her wrist.

Drakon snorted. "Healer, you had better be thorough."

His face was full of confidence.

With the memories of his past life, he knew Vania's body was not the problem.

The healer knelt, trembling, and carefully pressed his fingers to Vania's pulse.

Vania gripped her handkerchief tightly. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was terrified that something was wrong with her.

"Your Majesty, Crown Prince," the healer finally said, "the Crown Princess is healthy. She has some hormonal imbalances from stress, but nothing more."

Vania let out a visible sigh of relief.

Drakon shot me a smug look. "You see, Father? Since Vania is healthy, just give us time to rest and recover. We will surely produce a pure Royal Gold heir and bring glory to the dragon palace."

Vania curtsied. "I will do my utmost, Your Majesty."

King Theron laughed heartily. "Good! I will wait for your good news."

I sighed softly.

Examine the healthy one. Ignore the sick one.

I would wait and see where their pure golden dragon came from.

The King left. Lysander and I turned to go, but Drakon blocked our path.

"You truly thought bringing a healer here would embarrass me?" he sneered. "Seraphina, you are as despicable as ever."

I smiled calmly.

The Crown Prince of the dragon realm cannot father children. Is that not a joke?

"Carrying some bastard in your belly," he went on, "and you act as if you have accomplished something."

Lysander's eyes turned cold. "Brother, watch your tongue. The child in Seraphina's belly is dragon royal blood."

Drakon shook his sleeves in fury. "I will wait and see what kind of creature you spawn."

"My child is none of your concern," Lysander replied coldly.

He took my arm and led me back to our chambers.

With the child growing inside me, Lysander became even more attentive. He treated me with the utmost care, afraid I might bump into anything or hurt myself.

Natural pregnancy was nothing like the Blood Rite. In my past life, the Rite had drained my life force. My body had withered away. Toward the end, I could not even leave my bed.

Now, despite the morning sickness, I grew stronger and healthier.

Several more months passed. Still no news from the Crown Prince's chambers.

Finally, the King could wait no longer. He ordered the healer to examine the Crown Prince.

Drakon sat with a dark expression on his face. "Healer," he said in a low voice, "you had better examine me carefully."

He still refused to believe the problem was his.

In the past life, he had never learned that I used the Blood Rite to give him a child. He was certain of his own fertility.

The healer's face went pale. His hands trembled as he reached for the Crown Prince's wrist.

At last. The truth was finally about to be revealed.