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Dreamwalker's Bride

“You are the least objectionable groom of all the ones I’ve seen,” Anaisa replied seriously. “Thank you for the glowing compliment,” Trace grinned, “but that didn’t quite answer my question.” ___ Anaisa is an orphan and a pariah. In an ultimate act of betrayal, her father, a Count of the Realm, is accused of deserting and betraying the army in a time of war. Not only is he immediately executed for the offense, but the king declares he must have been a fake all along! His two daughters are stripped of their titles and inheritance, replaced by a distant cousin and cast out of their home with nothing. Anaisa swears someday she will get her title and lands back, but in the mean time, she and her sister Katia have to figure out how to survive. Trace is an anomaly among his people; instead of revealing their son as a magic user and thrusting him into the public eye, his parents kept it a secret to allow him to choose the kind of life he wanted. Trace found himself content to rest and play in his own dream world instead of invading the nighttime visions of others. As an adult, his choice to remain unknown is thrown into jeopardy when a mysterious blackmailer forces Trace to enlist in the territorial war between nations, threatening to reveal his secret if the demand is not met. With the war now over, Trace believes he can finally go home to his farm and live the simple, unremarkable life he’s always desired. When Anaisa and Trace are thrown together by a royal edict, the sisters find themselves unwittingly tangled in the web of mystery and intrigue that surrounds the blackmailer’s escalating assignments for Trace. Anaisa begins to suspect it may be connected to the plot to replace her family in the noble court. As the scheme continues to unfold, lives, loves, marriages, and magic will be put to the test to see what forces in the world are strongest.

TheOtherNoble · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
418 Chs

No thanks

Mia winced at Denholm's blunt phrasing.

"No." The wight replied.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" The son of the dead Count demanded. "You think you own the thing? Of course not! My father first discovered it, and it's mine now that he passed!"

His logic was somewhat more coherent than Mia had expected, and she glanced to the wight. It seemed puzzled, and perhaps a bit irritated, by Denholm's outburst. The man became irate, striding towards the tree and pointing to it, heedless of the dragons that softly breathed out tendrils of smoke as they watched him.

"Tree. Mine." Denholm said slowly and loudly.

"No," The wight repeated slowly, as if to a child.

Denholm placed a possessive hand on the trunk of the golden tree. He was so close to the dragons that sweat poured down his face, and he seemed to sway.

"This. Is. Mine." Denholm said again. "If you want any rights to it, you have to negotiate with me. I'm a reasonable man."