They called it the perfect match. Highborn. A Golden. The kind of man girls are supposed to dream of. My brother said I should be grateful-that my duty was to marry well, smile sweetly, and lock our families together with heirs. So I did what any sane woman would do. I ran. Well-technically, I rode. And my best friend, bless his unhinged tendencies, came with me. The plan was simple: get to Ashborn Academy-three thousand feet above the sea, where dragons breathe fire into the bones of the mountain. Get accepted. Learn to ride a dragon. And then fly wherever the hell I wanted. Only problem? He's here too. The so-called perfect match. And dragons? They aren't horses. They're chaos with wings, and they don't care whether I live or burn. I thought I was ready. I thought freedom would taste sweeter than silk and silence. But it seems I've only traded cages. This one isn't golden-it's iron, and raw, and hiding more secrets than I ever imagined.
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