rin

calm, operating with the cold, lethal precision of a veteran vanguard knight. Deep within my chest, my newly awakened dragon core-triggered by the agonizing grief I had experienced at the military camp-pulsed with a suppressed, violent golden heat. I ha

ng. They stared at the black urn in my arms, pointing and whispering to each other

g comfortably on plush velvet sofas. They were sipping imported floral tea, both wearing lavish silk gowns h

ng eyes locked onto the black stone urn in my arms, and her perfectly powde

nquet last night, you should have just stayed out on the muddy streets where you belong. You are completely useless compared to Elianna. She is a noble

"Gods, what is that hideous thing? Don't tell me you actually went to a common graveyard to pick up some dirt just

urn down. I turned to face them. My cold, dead gaze first locked onto Felic

ing to a lethal, vibrating whisper. The sheer, predatory intent in my eyes made her instantly turn a sickly shade of pale.

ly flat, suppressing the golden fire trying to ignite in my veins. "To answer your question, my lady

in, stop dressing up the truth. They were just two common, low-class Dragon-kin who died in a meaningless border skirmish. Hundreds of them die every year like stray dogs. Bringing something sta

, I might have lowered my head, bitten my tongue, and silently endured it to ke

, submissive d

e it. I took a sudden, incredibly swift step forward. Before Genevieve could even blink, I raised my heavy le

as

teacups shattered into a hundred pieces on the marble floor, and the pot of

frantically brushed the hot tea and wet tea leaves off her ruined dress, her face r

ically flinch. "My parents died protecting the borders so an ungrateful, useless, parasitic old bat like you could sit here drinking t

ckward, tripping over the broken porcelain. For a second, she looked genui

the hell is

hough he had just woken from a long nap. He paused at the bottom of the stairs. He took one look at the

I was angry. He immediately rushed to his moth

and exhaustion. "Why must you always throw a hysterical tantrum and attack my mother just beca

ilitary camp this morning to go comfort his mistress. There was no empathy

ther just called my heroic parents low-class cannon fodder. She called their ashes filth.

ight to be upset. I know those are your parents' ashes, but you should not have brought them in here! You know she hates dirty things. You should

ng him snuffed out. He wasn't just a cheate

t wave of nausea hitting the back of my throat.

nds gently on the cold stone of the urn. I picked it up, ready to

esence and protection, stepped forward, blocking my path to