“We can’t keep her here, Ariana – she’ll just cause more problems!” that had been my father, and because of that line, I had stuck around to see how the fight would unfold.

“You can’t just abandon her, Simon – it’s cruel! It’s barbaric!” and that, as always, had been my faithful aunt, Ariana, sister to king Simon.

“I will do as I wish! Not only does she cost more than the whole kingdom put together, she also is problematic!”

“Simon!” Ariana had hissed, elbowing her brother firmly in the ribs. “How can you possibly entertain thoughts of locking Beryl up? She’s the sweetest girl I know.”

And that had been where my blood ran cold in my veins (if that could ever happen to a dragon).

I realized they had been talking about me.

Not of some unruly maid who needed to be fired.

Not a steward who had failed to serve the king faithfully.

It was about me. Beryl the princess destined to ascend the throne, was adopted.

How do I know this, you say?

Because it is impossible for two mortals to have a dragon child.