Sitting in the lavish bridal chamber, it still didn’t feel real. I’d died, and somehow, I was back on the day Father arranged our marriages. 

This time, my stepsister—Arya Hearthguard—had jumped at the chance to marry into the impoverished lion clan, while I was offered the privilege of marrying into the dragon clan. 

I remembered the scornful, almost gloating way Arya had looked at me. 

“Litha, you’ve never had much growing up. I’m doing you a kind favor out of pity, so appreciate it and try not to blow it.” 

I smiled. She clearly had no idea what she was walking into. 

Kael Hawthorne—clan leader of the lions— was a faithful, affectionate fool with no grasp of leadership. 

The lion clan was poverty-stricken because he squandered every resource that came his way and never knew how to sustain them. Under his reign, the entire clan had forgotten the concept of wealth. 

In my past life, I’d taken my modest dowry and stretched it to the bone to barely keep the clan afloat. 

What mattered most was that, though loyal, Kael was infertile. The only reason I had mothered an Aetherborn was the sliver of Aetheric Divinity in Mother’s Aetherblood. If it were Arya, she’d never be able to conceive with him. 

As a hybrid community, the lions were desperate for heirs. If a female failed to conceive within six months of marriage, she would be forced to mate with every proven male of the clan, regardless of age. 

Just imagining Arya in that position spread a smile across my face. I was already looking forward to the way she regretted her choice when she realized she couldn’t conceive, and was compelled to mate with old, leering male lions. 

The thought crossed my mind as I began unfastening the buttons on my bridal robe.