A breathtaking romantic fantasy inspired by From the “Everything I love in a story--danger, complex characters, romance, betrayal and gorgeous writing.” --Mary E. Pearson, Truyan Saigas didn''t choose to become a con artist, but after her father is lost at sea, it’s up to her to support her mother and two younger sisters. A gifted art forger, Tru has the unique ability to paint the future, but even such magic is not enough to put her family back together again, or stave off the gangsters demanding payment in blood for her mother’s gambling debts. Left with few options, Tru agrees to a marriage contract with a mysterious dragon lord. He offers a fresh start for her mother and sisters and elusive answers about her father''s disappearance, but in exchange, she must join him in his desolate undersea palace. And she must assist him in a plot to infiltrate the tyrannical Dragon King''s inner circle, painting a future so treasonous, it could upend both the mortal and immortal realms. . . .

Autorentext

ELIZABETH LIM grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she was raised on a hearty diet of fairy tales, myths, and songs. Before becoming an author, Elizabeth was a professional film and video game composer, and she still tends to come up with her best book ideas when writing near a piano. An alumna of Harvard College and the Juilliard School, she now lives in New York with her husband and her daughters.

Elizabeth's bestselling novels include Six Crimson Cranes, The Dragon's Promise, Her Radiant Curse, Spin the Dawn, and Unravel the Dusk. She is also a contributor to Disney's A Twisted Tale series.

Klappentext

"A girl who paints the future and a cursed dragon lord, bound by love and deception, pair up in a plot to bring down the gods"--

Zusammenfassung
**#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A breathtaking romantic fantasy inspired by Beauty and the Beast about a girl who paints the future and a cursed dragon lord, bound by love and deception in a plot to bring down the gods.

From the New York Times bestselling author of Six Crimson Cranes!

“Everything I love in a story—danger, complex characters, romance, betrayal and gorgeous writing.” —Mary E. Pearson, New York Times bestselling author of Dance of Thieves**

Truyan Saigas didn't choose to become a con artist, but after her father is lost at sea, it’s up to her to support her mother and two younger sisters. A gifted art forger, Tru has the unique ability to paint the future, but even such magic is not enough to put her family back together again, or stave off the gangsters demanding payment in blood for her mother’s gambling debts.

Left with few options, Tru agrees to a marriage contract with a mysterious dragon lord. He offers a fresh start for her mother and sisters and elusive answers about her father's disappearance, but in exchange, she must join him in his desolate undersea palace. And she must assist him in a plot to infiltrate the tyrannical Dragon King's inner circle, painting a future so treasonous, it could upend both the mortal and immortal realms. . . .

Leseprobe
Chapter One

Mama used to fancy herself the best fortune teller in Gangsun—­that is, until Baba disappeared at sea.

Her talent was in reading faces. She could divine someone’s lifespan from the texture of their hair, whether they’d be faithful lovers from the way their mouth slanted. Too often she’d go up to strangers and pinch their earlobes, for that was her way of gauging how prosperous they’d become. Mama loved nothing more than money.

With such a gift, you’d think that Mama would’ve married the richest merchant she could find. Certainly not Baba—­ a middling trader with blue hair, grand dreams, and nine coppers to his name. But no matter how my sisters and I begged, neither would ever tell the story. All Mama would say, with a sniff, was “Foreign faces are harder to read. Had I known your father would chase adventure over riches—­”

“She’d still have picked me,” Baba finished for her one lazy Sunday morning. His eyes twinkled. “Your mother knew from the start what I was.”

“A pirate,” Mama muttered. “A thief.”

“An adventurer,” I said at the same time as Baba. With a grin, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And once, in another life, your mama was one too.”

I stared at him, convinced that he was telling tales. I couldn’t imagine my prim mama with her hair down, let alone chasing after bandits or swilling rice wine with sailors.

She saw my skepticism and waved it away. “Those were desperate times. Before I had my three girls.”

I longed to know more, but Baba and Mama exchanged a look that drew the shutters over their past.

Mama picked me up and set me on her lap, her voice softening. “Thankfully, your fate will be different, Tru.” She touched the mole by the right corner of my mouth. “This means you’ll never go hungry, and you’ll have a gift for making coin.”

“Will she have a gift for saving it too?” Baba teased. He eyed the silk shawl draped around Mama’s shoulders and the new bangles at her wrists. “Because her mother certainly doesn’t.”

Mama glared, but her mouth betrayed the smallest of smiles. “Being married to a Balardan makes it harder to earn people’s trust,” she retorted. Her gaze raked over Baba’s hair, which shimmered dark blue under the summer sun. “I need to look presentable in case you scare away all my customers.”

“Your daughter isn’t a customer. She didn’t ask for her fortune to be read.”

“I don’t mind,” I said quickly. “I like it when Mama reads me.”

Back then, it was the truth. I was young and gullible, and no one believed in Mama’s abilities more than I did.

Baba clicked his tongue. When Mama was out of earshot, he leaned down until we were eye to eye and said, “No one can see the future, Tru. Not even your mother.”

“But she says—­”

“Mama likes to . . . pretend,” said Baba in his lowest voice.

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You remember that old story about the fish and the dragon?” he asked, instead of explaining. “Fortune finds those who leap, my Tru. Whatever yours is—­riches or love or adventure—­you make it yourself. Nothing is predetermined. Not by the gods, not by the lines on your palm or the creases on your brow.” He counted my worry lines with his fingers. “Or else these lines mean you’ll have seventeen children.”

That made me giggle.

“See? It’s nonsense.” Baba tousled my hair. Then—­as if by magic—­he drew out a wooden ship from behind my ­collar.

“Oh,” I breathed as Baba dropped the ship onto my palm. It was as small as a teacup and still in a rough state, but the smoothly sanded sails and the outline of a magnificent phoenix along the bow gave me glimpses of its potential. “It’s going to be your finest yet.”

“I think so too,” Baba agreed.

Art and the sea, those were what my father loved most, after his family. When he was away, he carved us trinkets of marvels he’d encountered on his travels: monkeys and tigers, shadow puppeteers, bridges cast like crescent moons—­my younger sisters and I had an entire collection under our bed. This was the first time he’d shown me something that he was still workin…