The Jilted Dragonless Bride's Royal Revenge

"My Lady! You're finally awake!"

My eyes snapped open. The stench of cheap incense mixed with the violent jolting of the carriage made my stomach heave, and the thick taste of copper flooded my throat.

In the dim light, my hand instinctively shot to my waist for my service pistol. Instead, my freezing fingertips brushed against heavy layers of plain, unpatterned silk.

Daisy, my young maid dressed in coarse linen, threw herself at my knees. Tears streaked her dirt-smudged face as she kept her voice barely above a whisper, terrified of the guards outside.

I ignored her sobbing as a splitting ache tore through my skull, flooding my mind with memories that didn't belong to me.

In my past life I was a special-forces scout-I fell off a cliff while tracking a suspect, and now I wake up in the Dragonreach Kingdom, a realm that worships bloodline above all else.

This body belongs to the eldest legitimate daughter of the prestigious Weeks Duchy. A Dragonless cold-blood who could never shift... and today is her wedding day to Damien Vaughn, the Pure-Blood Dragon Prince, the so-called God of War.

But Damien Vaughn had already brought a woman back with him from the northern campaign, and everyone in the realm knew how fiercely he doted on her.

Which is why the original owner of this body swallowed a lethal dose of dissolved Dragonslayer Gold, right here inside this bridal carriage.

I pressed a hand against my chest, where a vicious poison burned like molten lead.

A cold laugh escaped my lips. Drawing on years of special-ops conditioning, I forced down the spasms in my heart and wiped the black blood from the corner of my mouth with my plain sleeve.

Suddenly, the carriage screeched to a halt, slamming my back against the wooden wall with a heavy thud.

An ear-splitting roar erupted outside, heavy with a terrifying beastly pressure that sent Daisy collapsing onto the floorboards, trembling uncontrollably.

"Gray-scale Drakes..." Daisy covered her ears, her face chalk-white. "Why would the Prince's high guards use sub-dragon beasts to block the main consort's carriage?"

I shoved open the half-shut wooden window. Freezing wind rushed in, carrying a nauseating, metallic stench of molten gold and sulfur-the signature scent of high-ranking Dragon-born.

Through the gap, I saw our battered wooden carriage forced into the muddy ditch at the side of the road.

Ahead of us, a luxurious redwood carriage pulled by two massive, iron-gray four-legged Drakes rolled arrogantly down the center of the street.

Across its silk curtains, red-gold threads formed blazing Dragonfire patterns-a privilege strictly reserved for high-blood nobility.

"Who is in that carriage?" My voice was raspy and ice-cold, stripped of all the original Aubree's timidness.

"It's Cora Chavez... His Highness's vassal consort," Daisy sobbed. "The Prince ordered her carriage to enter the palace gates before yours!"

My eyes narrowed as my mind instantly mapped out the situation: favoring a low-born concubine to humiliate the legitimate wife in public.

I watched the Drake-drawn carriage kick up dirty water, splashing mud across our plain, crestless curtains in a blatant display of class dominance.

Along both sides of the street, commoners and low-ranking red-blood Dragon-kin crowded together, their buzzing whispers pouring into our cabin.

"The eldest daughter of the Weeks Duchy doesn't even get a single Drake to clear her path. What an embarrassment for the Dragonless," a common Dragon-kin bystander mocked loudly.

I dropped the curtain to cut off their stares and pulled a sharp, plain silver hairpin from my bun.

Without hesitation, I jabbed the silver tip into my index finger, using acute pain to trigger a rush of adrenaline through this failing body.

"My Lady, what are you doing?" Daisy gasped.

"Shut up and help me sit straight." My voice was quiet, yet the commanding pressure in it made Daisy clamp her mouth shut instantly.

Just then, Cora's carriage brushed past ours. A gust of wind lifted her red-gold curtain, revealing a delicate, tearful face hiding vicious triumph in her eyes.

She looked straight at me, her lips curving into a mocking smirk as if watching a lamb led to the slaughterhouse.

I stared back with a deadpan expression, giving her the exact cold gaze I reserved for targets marked for death.

As Cora's procession rolled into the palace courtyard, the massive iron gates inlaid with glowing Dragon Cores groaned loudly, slowly swinging shut.

"Hurry! The main gates are closing! The main consort hasn't entered yet!" The old palace steward yelled in fake panic outside, though not a single guard moved to stop the heavy doors.

I stood up, ripped the heavy, cheap red veil from my head, and stomped it under my boots.

Shoving the carriage door wide open, I stepped out as the howling wind whipped my golden hair across my face.

I planted my boot on the carriage footboard, looking down at the smirking palace guards, and spoke in a voice that cut through the wind.

"Is this how the God of War welcomes his royal bride? Too cowardly to even leave the front door open?"