Agadart ver Kleelan was sixteen years old when she realized that she did not, actually, want to get married and go to the capital to serve as a handmaiden to the Dragon Queen of Kaaltendt, Theaedra. She thought that, given her family history, there were better things she could do with her life.

She announced her new plans to her father, Lord Stigar ver Kleelan, over their shared breakfast.

“You’re what now?” Her father put down the broadsheet he was reading.

“Volunteering. For the Dragon Maids Corps.”

He frowned a little, then returned to his reading. Agadart drank her tea and waited.

“Any particular reason?” he asked a few minutes later, without looking up.

“I thought maybe it was time I got out for a bit.”

“Harumph.”

She kept waiting. Eventually her father put the broadsheet aside and looked at her. “Does this have anything to do with your betrothal to Baron Parrel Stewardt of Trinx?”

She nodded. “Oh yes.”

He smiled, because he had as much patience with the stuffy manners of Baron Parrel Stewardt as she did. In fact, she suspected there was no man who would ever gain her father’s approval for her hand, which suited her just fine. She knew her father would never have allowed her to be married off to Baron Stewardt in the first place if her mother had not been so keen on the alliance.

Stolen story; please report.

Her father sighed. “Dangerous business, working with dragons.”

“I don’t expect I’d be working with them, would I? Helping the wounded and whatnot.”

“They’re a tough lot.”

“The wounded?”

“Dragons. Remember your uncle,” her father admonished. Agadart sighed. The only living dragon in their family was her father’s older brother Hrecht ver Kleelan, who had disappeared into the far Westlands to work as a hired mercenary for some exotic Westlands queen, last anyone heard. More sordid gossip was that he was less a proper guardian than a favored courtesan, but either way, it had been quite a scandal. Agadart’s father, who inherited his title and lands in the aftermath of his brother’s abdication, rarely talked about it. It had happened years before she was born, anyway.

Her father knew a lot about dragons, growing up with one, but no one would guess it by his manners or comments. That the proper ver Kleelan lineage had once again been besmirched with the birth of a dragon after several generations without was a stain not easily overcome, but Agadart’s mother was doing her damnedest to try to erase it by way of betrothing her only child to the baron. To Agadart, it felt like being sold off to the highest bidder.

“You’re always welcome to come home when it gets rough, sweetheart.” Her father smiled at her.

“I know, Father. And I will come home again, eventually.”

He nodded agreeably before picking up the broadsheet, then paused as they both heard sharp heels clicking down the hallway to the breakfast room.

Agadart’s mother swept in triumphantly to tell them that the marriage contract had been signed by Queen Theaedra and the date for the wedding set.

Staring down at her plate, Agadart thought it had been nice to pretend otherwise for a moment.