During their brief stops, the nightmare continued. Kian unfolded a portable chair in the dirt, tossing a dirty rag at her.
"Wipe my shoes quickly, orphan. They are very dusty," Kian demanded.
Princess Mirelle wanted to say "no" but she was afraid to refuse.
So, she dragged a flat rock over to sit on and scrubbed the mud off his leather boots while he lazily re-read his comic book.
She still had absolutely no idea where this black carriage was heading. Why didn't she just reveal her true identity and demand to be returned to the palace?
The answer was simple: pure survival instinct.
A desperate, hopeful voice in her head kept screaming at her to just speak up.
I have to think about this logically, Mirelle told herself, her hands trembling as she scrubbed the heavy leather boots. There are only three possibilities here.
Possibility 1, He has no ill intent and just happened to be passing by. He keeps calling me an 'orphan,' which means he genuinely does not know who I am. If I reveal my true identity right now, he will realize his terrible mistake. He will drop to his knees, apologize profusely, and escort me safely back to the palace!
She peeked up at Kian. His face was completely stoic and unbothered as he flipped a page of his picture book.
Distracted by her own thoughts, her clumsy fingers slipped. The filthy, wet rag slapped directly onto the clean cuff of Kian's trousers, smearing dark mud across the fabric.
Kian lowered his comic book and frowned deeply. "Watch out where you are wiping!" he snapped, genuinely annoyed that he might have to change his pants later.
"I-I am sorry!" Mirelle squeaked, her hands trembling violently. She quickly scrubbed at the fabric, completely terrified, swallowing her tears as she waited for a harsh punishment.
Kian just clicked his tongue in deep annoyance. He didn't strike her, but he didn't offer a single word of comfort to a crying, shivering child either.
"Just clean it and be quiet," Kian grumbled, leaning back into his portable chair and raising his picture book again, completely ignoring her distress.
Seeing his absolute, cold indifference, the hopeful fantasy of a kind, heroic savior instantly died in her heart.
Possibility 2, Mirelle thought, her chest tightening. He is a corrupt, greedy noble. He still doesn't know who I am, but he is clearly a bad person because he treats a lost child like a slave! If I proudly announce I am the Imperial Princess, a cruel man like him won't take me home. He will immediately realize my political value, lock me up, and hold me for a big ransom! If this is true, my only safe option is to keep my mouth shut and play the obedient orphan.
A cold sweat broke out on her neck.
Wait. Possibility 3 ... my portrait hangs in the grand halls of every high-society estate. How could a noble powerful enough to terrify an entire underground syndicate not recognize my face? He definitely knows who I am. My travel route was an imperial secret. That means he didn't just 'happen' to drive by. He is the mastermind! He orchestrated the kidnapping, scared off the syndicate to steal me for himself, and is now treating me like a peasant to completely break my imperial pride! He is a corrupt noble who hates the Imperial Family! If he is this ruthless, demanding to go home will get me executed to silence me. I have to play the broken, obedient princess captive.
The math was terrifying, but simple.
It is a two-to-one risk, Mirelle realized, swallowing her tears. If the first guess is right, speaking up saves me. But if the second or third guess is right, speaking up means I become a hostage or a corpse. The odds are entirely against me.
Throwing a royal tantrum carried a huge risk of death. Absolute obedience guaranteed her survival. She had to play along.
When the carriage finally arrived at a bustling town that late afternoon, Kian immediately rented a room at a local inn. He stepped out of the carriage entirely unburdened.
"Carry my bags to the second floor," Kian ordered, tossing his heavy leather luggage onto the dirt.
Mirelle stared at the large bags. She weighed barely forty kilograms. But remembering her survival math, she gritted her teeth. She dragged the heavy leather straps across the rough wooden floorboards, her small arms shaking violently as she hauled the luggage up the narrow creaking stairs one agonizing step at a time. She was completely exhausted by the time she reached his door.
When she stumbled back downstairs, Kian handed her a small pouch of silver coins. He did not care about her deep exhaustion at all, tossing the pouch to her.
"Go buy yourself some clothes," he said lazily. "You cannot travel in that ruined shirt forever."
Mirelle took the coins, her heart fluttering with a tiny spark of relief. She walked directly to the market.
Meanwhile, Kian turned to Lexi. "Find the local orphanage."
"Understood," Lexi nodded, vanishing into the crowds without asking a single question.
I am dropping this brat off immediately. She is ruining my vacation.
Thirty minutes later, Mirelle returned. She had spent every single silver coin on a single frilly lace dress. She was already wearing it. It felt stiff and cheap compared to the silk gowns in the Imperial Palace, but she thought it was at least presentable for a noble captive.
Kian stared at her, his expression turning incredibly dark.
"Are you an idiot?" Kian scolded, his voice dripping with genuine irritation. "I gave you enough money to buy ten sets of cheap durable travel clothes! Why did you buy one useless piece of fabric? You cannot do chores in lace!"
Mirelle flinched, shrinking back in pure terror.
Lexi materialized beside the carriage. "I'm back. The locals say the nearest orphanage is located in a village just before the next major city. It is three days away."
Kian let out a long heavy sigh. He rubbed his temples, furious that he could not dispose of the annoying orphan today.
"Take her back to the market," Kian told Lexi. "Force her to buy cheap linen clothes."
Lexi grabbed the terrified girl's shoulder. When they returned an hour later, Mirelle was carrying a stack of rough brown peasant garments. Kian immediately confiscated the lace dress, tossing it into the carriage storage so she could not ruin it.
Watching her only decent piece of clothing get locked away, Mirelle bit her lip. She almost cried right there in the dirt.
They left the town the next morning and resumed their slow journey to find the orphanage. Kian was eager to dump her, so his mood worsened. He treated her exactly like a lowly servant, barking harsh orders from the comfort of his padded floor.
When the big horses needed water, Kian made her carry the heavy wooden buckets from the rushing river. She stumbled constantly under the terrible weight.
When he wanted to read outside in the afternoon breeze, he made her sweep the hard dirt completely clear of pebbles so his portable chair would sit perfectly flat.
When they stopped to eat, she was forced to slice the tough dried meat for the stew, her dull knife slipping repeatedly and nicking her small fingers. She was the Imperial Princess of the realm, yet she was scrubbing thick mud off the wooden carriage wheels while the terrifying noble napped peacefully in the cool shade.
That night, the carriage stopped in a quiet dark clearing. Lexi was patrolling the perimeter. Kian was asleep inside his padded fortress.
Mirelle sat alone on a cold flat rock while staring up at the distant stars.
The freezing night air bit through her thin scratchy linen tunic. She pulled her knees to her chest, shivering violently. She closed her eyes and remembered the Imperial Palace.
She remembered her massive soft bed, the roaring fireplaces, and the dozens of loyal maids who brought her hot cocoa and brushed her hair.
Here in the wilderness, the roles were entirely reversed. She was the lowly disposable maid, and Kian was the demanding cruel prince.
She looked down at her hands under the pale moonlight. They were covered in red blisters from the heavy leather reins, stained with dirt, and covered in tiny stinging cuts from the kitchen knife.
They did not look like the hands of royalty anymore.
The overwhelming weight of her situation finally shattered her defenses. She buried her face in her bruised aching knees.
The Imperial Princess cried silently in the dark, her small shoulders shaking as her tears soaked into the cheap brown fabric.
---
By the tenth afternoon, Mirelle gripped the heavy reins with blistered hands. She clumsily steered the horses along a narrow mountain pass. A sheer, deadly cliff dropped off entirely to their right.
Up on the roof, Lexi lounged quietly. Inside, Kian lay completely flat, just staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, feeling entirely bored.
Suddenly, a massive shadow swept over the dirt. Then twenty more shadows followed.
Mirelle looked up into the clear sky. Hundreds of screeching wyverns blotted out the sun.