Rising From Exile: The Dragonless Queen

Katia POV:

Darby wept beautifully, her tears cutting clean tracks through the dust on her cheeks. She looked like a fragile, broken doll, a calculated performance designed specifically to manipulate Gideon Sterling's sympathies.

I merely watched her, my face an unreadable mask. I had successfully diverted the guards' attention and secured enough stolen jewelry to keep my family alive for the next few weeks. But Darby wasn't finished.

Seeing that Gideon remained impassive, her eyes flicked toward me, burning with a sudden, vicious malice. She wiped her tears and took a step toward me, her voice dripping with fake, syrupy sorrow. "Sister... you are right. It is my fault. I am so sorry. Let me bow to you to make amends!"

She lunged forward, her hands outstretched, aiming directly for my chest. It wasn't a bow; it was a violent shove intended to knock me backward into the heavy iron braziers.

But I had survived a lifetime on the unforgiving streets of a modern metropolis. I didn't even blink. I simply pivoted on my heel, shifting my weight to the side with the grace of a matador.

Darby's momentum carried her forward. With nothing to stop her, she tripped over the hem of her expensive silk dress.

*Splat.*

Darby thrashed in the foul, green sludge of the drake stables, spewing fermented hay and drake bile from her mouth. The stench was apocalyptic, a suffocating wave of sulfur and rot that instantly cleared the immediate area.

"If you want to eat dung, just say so! No need to dive in so eagerly!" I yelled, my voice dripping with exaggerated shock, ensuring every villager and soldier heard me.

The hardened royal guards couldn't hold it in. A chorus of booming, shoulder-shaking laughter erupted across the yard. These were men who spent their lives taking orders from arrogant nobles; seeing one face-down in manure was the highlight of their year.

Darby crawled out of the muck, weeping hysterically, her pristine azure silk ruined beyond repair. The smell was so horrific that even her own Carlisle escorts took a step back, covering their noses. She gagged, spitting out chunks of foul-smelling sludge.

While the guards were distracted by the comedy, I noticed an elderly man standing near the edge of the courtyard. He was the old groundskeeper of the estate, a man who had served the Hollands for decades, now weeping silently at our downfall.

I walked over to him, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. From the depths of my pockets, I pulled out a small, tightly woven leather pouch. Inside were rare, drought-resistant wheat seeds I had cultivated in my spatial storage-seeds that could survive the harshest winters.

"Take this, old man," I whispered, pressing the pouch into his calloused hands. "Plant them deep, water them sparingly. They will yield enough to feed your family when the winter comes. The Hollands may be gone, but you must survive."

The old man looked at the seeds, his eyes widening in shock and profound gratitude. "Bless you, child. The Dragon Gods bless you."

I felt a gaze on the back of my neck. I turned slightly and saw Gideon Sterling watching me. His cold green eyes were analytical, processing the stark contrast between the girl who had just violently robbed her rival and the girl who was now quietly ensuring an old servant wouldn't starve.

Darby, having finally wiped the worst of the dung from her eyes, pointed a trembling, filth-covered finger at me. "You'll pay for this!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with hysterical rage. "The Carlisles will make sure you don't survive this journey! You'll die in the wasteland! I'll see you all dead! The Northern Wastes will be your graveyard!"

My eyes narrowed. She had just handed me a loaded weapon.

I immediately turned to Gideon Sterling, raising my voice to a piercing volume. "Master Gideon! Did you hear that? The Carlisle family intends to bypass His Majesty's decree and murder us on the road! The Dragon King sentenced us to exile, not death! If we die on this march, it is the Carlisles defying the absolute authority of the crown! I demand this threat be recorded in the royal ledger!"

Gideon's cold green eyes snapped toward Darby. His pale brow pinched into a severe furrow. He didn't care about our family, but he cared deeply about the absolute authority of the crown. To usurp the King's justice was treason. He shot Darby a warning glare so frigid it seemed to drop the temperature in the yard.

Realizing she had just implicated her new masters in treason in front of a royal investigator, Darby's face drained of color beneath the sludge. Whimpering, she scrambled into her luxurious carriage, the driver cracking the whip as they fled in a cloud of dust and shame.