The Godblood Bride: Mending the Cursed Dragon Lord

Anya POV:

"By the decree of the Dragon King," the royal envoy read from a golden scroll, his monotone voice echoing in the vast, opulent hall of House Beaumont.

"In recognition of House Beaumont's generous tributes to the Crown, the betrothal of Isis Beaumont to Lord Gideon Carlisle is hereby dissolved. In her stead, her dragonless adopted sister, Anya Beaumont, shall be given to the crippled Lord of the South."

The envoy paused, casting a brief, pitying glance my way.

"For the crippled Lord Carlisle, a motherless adoptee is deemed a suitable match. The untainted noble blood of Isis Beaumont shall instead be reserved for the Crown Prince."

But I knew the filthy truth hiding behind this grand "decree."

My adoptive father, Lord Corbin Beaumont, had secretly spent half the family treasury bribing the royal court's officials to alter the marriage contract.

He had shamelessly orchestrated this entire swap, throwing a worthless outcast to a dying monster just to keep his precious true-born daughter safe and available for royalty.

The silence in the room was thick, but it didn't weigh on me.

I sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair, my hands resting loosely in my lap, calmly observing the theater playing out around me.

My adoptive father, Corbin, stood by the gilded mirror.

His back was rigidly straight, putting on a show of grim authority. But to my awakened senses, the overextension of his shoulder muscles betrayed pure, anxious tension.

He was nervous. He knew he was selling me out. I found that amusing.

"The wedding carriage will arrive at dawn," the envoy concluded, neatly rolling the scroll. With a curt bow, he turned and walked out of the manor.

The silence returned.

Corbin finally turned to me, his expression a carefully constructed mask of coldness.

"Put on the silk, get in the carriage, and take your sister's place in the monster's bed," he ordered, his voice dripping with casual cruelty. "Consider this your sole duty to this house."

He braced himself, likely waiting for the hysterics, the tears, or the desperate begging that the old Anya would have provided. To him, I was just damaged goods being offloaded at a steep discount.

Instead, I stood up smoothly, brushing a piece of lint from my cheap linen gown.

"I will get in the carriage," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet room, entirely devoid of tremor. "But I'm not doing it for free."

Corbin blinked, caught completely off guard by my sudden defiance. "What did you just say?"

I tilted my head, letting a cold smile touch my lips. I took a slow, deliberate step toward him.

"You heard me. You need me in that carriage tomorrow, Lord Beaumont. Because if I refuse, the King's decree still stands.

Your precious Isis will be forced into the crippled Lord's bed, or House Beaumont will face the executioner's block for treason-and every scrap of title, land, and prestige you bought with my late mother's gold will burn to ash."

My words hit a lethal nerve. Corbin's entire aristocratic facade was built on a foundation of stolen gold. My late mother had been the sole heir to a wealthy merchant guild leader, and her vast fortune had bought Corbin his noble title, his lands, and his status.

Yet, once he had drained her wealth and secured his power, this monster betrayed her, leaving her to die in neglect while he paraded his new family in the very halls my mother's money had built.

Corbin's face flushed an ugly crimson. "You ungrateful little brat! You dare threaten me?!"

"I am negotiating," I murmured.

"Before dawn, I want my name formally struck from the Beaumont family registry. We will be absolutely nothing to each other.

Furthermore, you will return every gold coin of my biological mother's dowry, along with the locked wooden box of her relics you stole. Hand them over, or I will slice my own wrists before the carriage arrives."

Corbin's knees buckled slightly. He stared at me in sheer disbelief.

What happened to her? The thought practically screamed from his wide eyes.

She used to be a cowardly mouse, a weakling who shook at a raised hand. Now... her eyes are freezing cold. What the hell happened to her at the bottom of that cliff?

His desperation to get rid of me quickly overrode his bruised ego. If I died, his real daughter would be doomed.

"Fine!" Corbin spat, grinding his teeth. "I will have the steward bring the gold and your mother's trash to your room! Consider yourself disowned! Go rot in Godspire Castle, you insolent viper!"

"Gladly," I replied without missing a beat.

Before he could recover from his visible shock, I turned on my heel and walked up to my tiny, drafty bedroom in the attic.

An hour later, the gold and my mother's small wooden box were delivered. I was sitting at my cracked vanity, tracing the brass hinges of the box, when my door burst open without a knock.

The cloying scent of heavy perfume, announced their arrival.

My two cruel stepsisters, Isis and Livia.

"Oh, my poor little sister," Isis cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she glided into the dim room.

She came to stand behind me, her eyes flashing maliciously in the mirror's reflection.

"I was so heartbroken to hear the news. The Lord of the South is a savage beast. They say his last two brides were tortured to death."

Livia chimed in with a sweet but cruel giggle. "Don't be so harsh, Isis. It's a miracle she's even alive to be married off."

Isis sneered, leaning in close so her breath brushed my ear.

"Indeed. I still can't believe you didn't shatter into pieces at the bottom of the ravine. Falling from that cliff, only to get caught by a thick pine branch... you really are a disgusting pest. Your life is harder than a cockroach's."

She reached out, grabbing my cheap wooden hairbrush from the table, and threw it to the floor with a loud clatter.

"You belong in the dirt, Anya," Isis whispered venomously. "Don't ever forget your place."

I remained perfectly still, watching them gloat. I wasn't angry. In fact, I wanted to laugh.

They thought throwing me off that cliff three days ago was a flawless murder.

They didn't know that the fatal impact and the near-death crisis didn't kill me-it shattered the ancient seal binding my true core.

At the bottom of that abyss, I had awakened the bloodline of the Primordial Dragon God. I inherited centuries of lost medical knowledge and the deadliest poison arts the world had ever seen.

Originally, I hadn't planned to return to this cursed manor so soon.

My plan was to vanish into the shadows, to lie low and cultivate my newly awakened powers for years until I was strong enough to crush them all.

But then, while hiding in a nearby village, I heard the rumors of the Dragon King's sudden marriage decree.

The Crown demanded a Beaumont bride for Gideon Carlisle, the crippled Lord of the South.

I knew Vespera's sickeningly selfish nature perfectly. She would rather commit treason than send her precious Isis to a dying "beast." They would be utterly desperate for a substitute.

So, I intentionally dragged my bruised body back to the manor's doorstep.

Just as I predicted, the shock of seeing me alive was quickly overpowered by their greed.

They didn't try to finish the murder. Instead, they eagerly forced me into this cheap gown and tossed me into this marriage trap to save their true-born daughter.

They thought they were using me. They didn't know I was using them.

I wasn't marrying Lord Gideon Carlisle to be a sacrificial lamb. I knew the crippled monster of the South held a military force terrifying enough to rival the King himself.

I was going to his frozen castle for one simple reason: to cure his incurable legs, and in exchange, use his immense, bloody power to eradicate House Beaumont and avenge my mother's miserable death.

Slowly, deliberately, I rose from my chair and turned to face them.

A bone-chilling smile spread across my face.

"Is that so?" I whispered softly.