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?"

Aubree POV:

My voice rang out across the stone square, making the Dragon-kin guards pushing the heavy iron doors freeze in their tracks.

The palace steward frowned deeply, disgust flashing in his eyes as he stepped forward. "Miss Weeks, His Highness gave strict orders. A Dragonless cold-blood must not disturb the majesty of the Dragon God Altar. You may only use the side entrance."

"I am the Royal Consort wedded by His Majesty's personal decree!" I snapped, cutting him off while digging the silver hairpin deeper into my palm. "Open the main gates, or I will smash my skull against that Dragon Core boundary stone right now and let every noble in the realm see the God of War's honor!"

The steward's face turned livid. Glancing at the gathering crowd of onlookers, he gritted his teeth and waved for the guards to push the heavy gates open a crack.

I lifted my chin and strode over the high threshold. Daisy hurried behind me, only for a Dragon-kin servant by the door to deliberately stick out his leg, tripping her hard onto the flagstones.

"Blind little Dragonless rat," the servant sneered, drawing loud laughter from the guards around him.

I stopped dead in my tracks, spun around, and swung my arm without warning.

Crack!

A sharp slap echoed across the courtyard as my palm struck the servant's face, whipping his head to the side.

Dead silence fell. The tall Dragon-kin servant clutched his reddening cheek, staring in disbelief at the supposedly spineless woman before him.

"My servant is not for a palace mutt to discipline," I said coldly, pulling Daisy up and smoothing my plain cuffs before marching down the main corridor.

We walked through the long stone gallery, where murals inlaid with dark-red Dragonslayer Gold lined the walls-a suffocating reminder of royal dominance.

When we reached the Great Hall, blinding light poured from massive Dragon Crystal chandeliers overhead, illuminating rows of high nobles dressed in red-gold scaled formal attire.

Yet before the sacred Dragon God Altar at the center of the hall, the groom's spot was completely empty. Damien Vaughn wasn't even here.

Instead, tied to the altar pillar with a piece of red string was a large rooster draped in a ridiculous scrap of red silk.

The surrounding nobles burst into roaring laughter that scraped against my eardrums.

"Look at that! The legitimate consort of the War God has to complete the Dragon God Ritual with a barnyard bird!" a Countess in a crimson scaled gown jeered behind her feathered fan.

The steward walked up to me and held out the other end of the red string. "Miss Weeks, His Highness is in the rear court soothing Consort Cora's startled dragon soul. The auspicious hour has arrived. Please bind your oath with this auspicious creature."

I stared at the flapping rooster, my rational training crushing the lingering humiliation of this body's previous owner.

I didn't cry or scream. Without blinking, I reached out and calmly took the red cloth from his hand.

"Wonderful," I murmured, a cold smirk curling my lips. Since you want to play dirty, don't blame me when I burn your royal dignity to ashes.

Under the mocking eyes of the entire court, I walked through the motions of the sham ritual without uttering a single word of sacred Dragon Speech.

The second I dropped the cloth, a servant roughly kicked the rooster aside, sending dusty feathers flying across the polished floor.

"Escort the Consort to the side courtyard woodshed," the steward ordered coldly, denying me even a proper bridal chamber.

Following two stony-faced guards down a dark, winding path away from the heated main palace, I was shoved into a damp, freezing woodshed reeking of rot and mold.

Bang!

The wooden door slammed shut from the outside, followed by the harsh clanking of heavy iron chains locking us in.

Daisy threw herself against the planks, pounding and crying. "Let us out! How dare you treat the Duke's daughter like a prisoner!"

A guard snorted outside the door. "A cold-blooded waste thinks she's nobility? His Highness said to let you rot in here."

I ignored the guard, walked over to a rough wooden plank in the corner, and stripped off my heavy outer robe.

Right then, the leftover Dragonslayer Gold poison in my veins surged back with a vengeance, squeezing my heart like a burning iron fist.

My vision went black, cold sweat soaking my underclothes as I collapsed hard onto the wooden boards.

Before darkness swallowed me whole, the original Aubree's tragic memories merged completely with my soul.

I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing the fresh blood-Damien Vaughn, I will make you pay for tonight with the pride of your entire royal bloodline.

Aubree POV:

Hours later, quiet sobbing pulled me out of the dark, and I forced my heavy eyelids open.

Gray morning light filtered through a tiny crack in the woodshed wall, doing nothing to warm the damp, moldy air.

"My Lady is awake! Sister Chloe, she's awake!" Daisy cried out in relief.

I turned my head stiffly and saw another girl in neat, coarse linen kneeling beside the plank bed-Chloe, my senior dowry maid who handled intelligence and our trained messenger hawks.

"Water..." My voice scraped like sandpaper against gravel, my throat still burning from the metallic toxin.

Chloe quickly pulled a leather waterskin from her tunic and supported my neck, feeding me several sips of lukewarm water.

As the liquid cooled my throat, I closed my eyes and sorted through the memories I had absorbed during the night.

One lethal fact stood out immediately: the poison the original Aubree drank was dissolved Dragonslayer Gold, the ultimate forbidden substance in this realm.

That dark-red metal could pierce dragon scales and extinguish Dragonfire. Even for a Dragonless human, its residue would rot the heart veins within three days if left untreated.

I raised my right hand and pressed two fingers against my left wrist, checking my pulse with the field-medic skills from my past life.

Thankfully, the original girl had spilled half the cup in the jolting carriage. With a few specific wild herbs to purge my stomach, I could clear the remaining toxin on my own.

"My Lady, we must send word to the Duchy," Chloe whispered, her eyes blazing with anger. "On your wedding night, His Highness stayed in that scheming Cora's courtyard while the front hall feasted with Dragonfire-warmed wine. He didn't even send a healer to check if you were alive."

Hearing Damien's name caused zero ripple in my chest; to me, he was nothing more than a hostile target on a mission board.

"We will contact my father, and we're walking out of here clean," I said, pushing myself up against the damp wall.

"But... you've already entered the palace gates," Daisy said, wringing her hem. "Under Dragonreach law, a Dragonless wife has no right to petition for nullity of marriage."

I let out a short, mocking laugh and touched the tip of my nose. "Who said I care about their laws? I'm going to execute a Rejection Ritual."

Both maids gasped sharply. In a world ruled by Dragon-born, a Dragonless woman initiating a Rejection Ritual against a Pure-Blood Prince was unheard-of treason.

"Chloe, how much emergency coin did you smuggle in on yourself?" I cut straight to business.

"Only five gold coins sewn into my belt. All ten miles of your dowry chests were seized at the front gate by the steward under the excuse of palace inventory," Chloe said through clenched teeth.

"Find me something to write on. If there's no parchment, tear your inner skirt," I ordered.

Chloe immediately ripped a clean strip of white cotton from her petticoat and handed me a piece of charred firewood from the corner.

Leaning against the wooden board, I used the charred wood to scrawl a short, encrypted message in the private military cipher only my father, Duke Alistair, could read.

"Send this to the Duchy with your messenger hawk. Deliver it straight into my father's hands," I said, rolling the cloth into a small copper tube from Chloe's pouch.

"The palace sky is covered by a Dragon Scent detection net." Chloe hesitated. "A strange hawk flying out of the side court will be shot down by the Dragon Guards."

"Then release it through the kitchen chimneys during tonight's banquet," I replied calmly. "They're holding a second feast to celebrate Cora's title tonight. The smoke from roasting spirit-beasts will mask the hawk's scent."

Before Chloe could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the outside stone path, accompanied by the clinking of iron armor.

The iron chain outside rattled violently, and the rotting wooden door was kicked wide open, letting blinding sunlight flood the shed.

Four arrogant palace guards stood at the entrance, their captain holding a thick hemp rope in his gauntleted hand.

"Get out here! There's a grand show waiting for our Royal Consort," the captain barked.

I slipped the copper tube deep into my cuff and pressed Chloe's wrist to stop her from reaching for her hidden dagger.

Standing up slowly, I brushed the sawdust off my plain skirt and looked the captain dead in the eye.

"Lead the way," I said, my icy stare making the veteran Dragon-kin guard freeze for a split second.