Ember wiped her hands on her apron, ignoring the sting of soap on her cracked palms. The kitchens of the dragon palace were always sweltering, but today the heat felt heavier. The chatter of servants carried news that made her stomach twist: Prince Theron had returned from the war.She pressed a damp cloth to the counter, trying to steady her shaking hands. Omegas didn’t matter in the grand halls of dragons. Their lives were counted only in the meals they served and the pups they produced. Ember had learned long ago not to hope. Not even when her heart thumped strangely in her chest.“Ember!” a sharp voice called. She flinched and turned to see Marla, the head kitchen maid, glaring.“Careful with that soup, or you’ll ruin it,” Marla snapped.“Yes, ma’am,” Ember muttered, lowering the ladle. She hated how the omega scent in her blood flared whenever a dragon was near, making her feel like prey.The kitchens fell quiet as heavy steps echoed from the main hall. Ember froze, her ears catc
آخر تحديث : 2026-04-02 اقرأ المزيد