Elaine Serrano POV:

Two days had passed since my letter was dispatched. The Dragon Palace hadn't replied yet, but I wasn't anxious. A petition of that magnitude took time.

For the past forty-eight hours, I had barricaded myself in my freezing chambers. Whenever the Castro servants pounded on my door, demanding I come out and scrub the new Lady's bedsheets, I simply ignored them.

Bang, bang, bang!

The heavy oak door to my quarters shuddered under an impatient fist. Hazel, the personal maid of the dowager, Lady Icie, stood in the hallway with her nose pointed at the ceiling.

"Elaine," Hazel announced, deliberately dropping my title. "Lady Icie requests your presence in the grand solar. Immediately."

Phoebe bristled beside me, but I simply gave her a calming glance. I smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on my elegant, dark velvet gown. I knew exactly why I was being summoned. The financial freeze had finally hit them where it hurt.

When I stepped into the lavish solar, Icie Castro was sitting in the center of a plush chaise lounge. Standing right next to her was Brittaney Kirk, wearing a sheer morning gown, her arms crossed as she glared at me.

"Elaine, my dear child, come sit," Icie cooed, suppressing her obvious panic and forcing a tone of artificial, sickening affection.

"I heard you froze the estate accounts out of a little... childish jealousy," Icie began, her tone soft and placating. "I know you feel wronged. But you must understand, you've managed this household for the past year, and you've done it well. Unfreeze the accounts. Pay the Royal Dragon Healer and the merchants for tomorrow's ceremony. As long as you hold the purse strings, you will always be the true mistress of this Dragon Court in my eyes."

I watched her perform, my heart cold and detached. In my past life, I had believed these honeyed words, only to be drained dry.

I gave a small, flawless smile, my eyes wide and perfectly innocent.

"Mother, you misunderstand," I said, my voice soft, respectful, and dripping with absolute compliance. "How could I possibly freeze the accounts out of jealousy? I am merely following Lord Brian's strict orders."

Icie frowned. "What orders?"

"Two nights ago, Lord Brian made it very clear that I am stripped of my title and am now nothing but a lowly personal maid," I explained, blinking gently. "According to the kingdom's customs, a personal maid has no right to manage the noble finances of a Dragon Court. It would be a severe overstep of my bounds. I wouldn't dare touch the accounts."

Icie's face stiffened. She hadn't expected me to use Brian's own vicious words as a shield.

I turned my gaze to Brittaney, offering her a respectful, subservient curtsy. "Since Lady Brittaney is the true Fated Mate and the new Lady of this house, it is only natural that I make way for her. It is my duty as a servant."

"You...!" Icie switched tactics, her voice rising in panic. "Brittaney is a noble Dragon Knight! She will be busy with her training. How could she have time for these trivial matters? You must continue to manage the household. That is an order!"

"I'm afraid I cannot, Mother," I refused gently, maintaining my perfect, harmless smile. "If outsiders were to find out that a glorious Dragon Court relies on the dowry of a cursed, magic-less Dragonless to feed its warriors and pay its Healers, wouldn't that make Lord Brian and Lady Brittaney's Fated Love a laughingstock across the entire kingdom?"

I paused, letting the humiliation of that truth sink into their arrogant bones.

"I am doing this to protect House Castro's honor," I added smoothly. "I have already instructed my stewards to prepare the handover of all estate management. Lady Brittaney, with her powerful dragonfire, will surely have no trouble conjuring bread and paying the merchants for tomorrow's ceremony, right?"

Brittaney's face turned ashen in an instant. Her arrogant glare shattered into pure panic. She knew how to swing a sword, but she didn't have a single copper coin to run a massive estate.

"You... you dare!" Icie shot up from her chaise lounge, the sudden movement causing her to cough violently. She pointed a shaking finger at me, her face purple with rage, completely unable to speak.