“Are you ok?” Storm looked up at the beautiful Elven woman that was standing over her with a concerned look in her emerald green eyes. Shavaris. Storm knew the woman, all of those of the other races who bore a mark did. Unlike the rest of them Shavaris had not been raised in the Capital by the Council. Shavaris’ mother, Darunia, had kept her daughter and taught her to hide her mark. If that wasn’t strange enough Shavaris was lowborn, a servant, no one had expected her to be the mate of a Dragon on the High Council. Storm tried to imagine hiding her marks but she couldn’t fathom it. That was the other problem, she had marks, plural. One ran up her leg in a serpentine fashion, one started at her hip then crossed over her belly, up her rib cage and ended below her left breast and the last one started at the top of her left shoulder then circled her neck like a collar. Three marks. Three mates

It was the first day of the tournament and the air was alive with excitement. People came from far and wide to watch the ruling race of Eterrand perform daring feats and strength and cunning all in the hopes to win a coveted seat on the High Council. However there was one that was not excited about the proceedings. Storm was not happy to be at the Tournament. She had spent her entire life waiting to find out who her mate was only to be told that they would not be introduced until it was over...if he survived.

the time has come, when Dragons test their mettle in feats of strength and cunning to see who will rise to the top 20 and claim one of the seats on the High Council.