Reborn as the Sleeping Dragon's Bride

Freya wakes on cold marble, gasping back into a life she already lost. In her first run, she chose the golden crown prince, crawling past sacred offerings to grab at his clothes. He called her a clingy breeder, let the court humiliate her, and eventually had her thrown into a pleasure house to die like rotten meat. The moment the king invites her to pick any dragon lord in Valeria, the crown prince's voice cuts across the hall, sneering he would rather be torn apart by wild dragons than mate with her.

She faces the throne and announces that her heart belongs only to the prince's uncle—Lucian Dravenmore, the black-silver Dragon Duke who has lain under a curse for a year, unresponsive. The hall erupts. Queen Marianne's smile sharpens as she grants the match. Freya presses her forehead to the marble until it bleeds, swearing it is Lucian or no one. The nobles call it a widowhood with a title.

But Freya remembers what no one else can. In her past life, Lucian woke three years into her hellish marriage. Half-crippled and still terrifying, he rose from a wheeled chair and stood between her and a pack of dragonborn ladies who were tearing her apart. Alone in the bridal chamber, she leans down and kisses his warm lips. The air cracks open. Black-silver scales surge along his neck, windows shatter, and his hand locks around her throat as dragon fire scorches the ceiling. He doesn't push her away.

The sleeping dragon is stirring. Behind Lucian's curse lies the poison that felled him, the treason that destroyed her family, and a debt of honor Freya intends to collect. The court laughed at the girl who married a corpse. They don't know she came back with a memory and a plan—and neither one will break.