Chapter 39
Lilah POV
I watched the goblet being poured before I saw the hand that tampered with it. Quick. Precise. A slight shimmer of silver dust—nothing more than a breath—fell into the ceremonial wine. Not enough to cloud the liquid. Just enough to kill slowly.
The maid didn't notice. She poured, smiled, and stepped back. I did nothing. Not out of fear. Not even out of loyalty. I simply waited. Because the truth always reveals itself when chaos dances. And chaos came swiftly.
The nanny—always so dutiful, always a step ahead of her young miss—did what she always did: tasted the wine first. She pressed the goblet to her lips, took a delicate sip, and smiled. For a heartbeat.
Then the blood came. Bright. Suddenly. Violent. She collapsed against the polished floor with a loud thud, hands clawing at her throat, blood foaming past her lips. The hall fell silent. A single second of stunned disbelief.
Then—screams.
Flora's face crumpled before the shock could even reach the back of the hall. She cried out, stumbled toward her nanny, and Nicholas moved. He didn't hesitate. He pushed past the startled nobles, the guards, the servants, and gathered Flora into his arms like she was the last thing tethering him to the earth. He held her too tightly, chin bent low, shielding her from everything and everyone.
The room didn't breathe.
And I? I didn't blink. I remained at the corner of the hall, cloaked in shadows, watching them all burn in their own panic.
The Royals were the first to recover. Their eyes turned sharp. Accusations clung to the air like smoke.
- "Levite treachery."
- "They poisoned a royal child."
- "She was the intended target!"
And just like that, the celebration bled into suspicion. Foolish. Predictable. The Levites had no motive to harm the girl. Flora was too insignificant in the grand game. Barely even a piece on the board. A sweet, harmless child that had nothing to offer—except, of course, that Nicholas seemed to care for her. Too much. And now, everyone has seen it.
I scanned the crowd, noting every widened eye, every half-whispered name. "They say he held her like a mate." "But he's already bonded to the Levite girl. Viona, isn't it?" "Maybe that's why... maybe the Levites wanted the girl out of the way."
A ripple of poison far more potent than the one in the wine spread across the hall. And Viona... was nowhere. I had seen her during the opening dance. Graceful. Composed. That fire hidden beneath layers of silk and protocol. Her absence now was a knife against the Levites' pride. At the worst possible moment.
I wondered if Nicolas noticed. If he had enough room in his golden heart to spare a thought for his actual mate while he cradled the wrong girl against his chest like she was his moon-bound destiny. It was the kind of moment people would remember. And gossip would not be kind.
He stood with Flora in his arms even as the nanny was taken away, her body limp and pale. He whispered something into Flora's hair—something I could not hear, but read in the way her sobs quieted.
The party was declared over within minutes. The Royal delegation pulled back, faces stiff, as though being under our roof now offended them. As though we had invited them here only to spill blood and shame.
I exhaled slowly, turning away from the scene as it unraveled further. The Levite guards shifted into a defensive stance. The elders argued in hushed tones. And Nicholas... not with rage. With disdain. Like we were filth beneath his boots. He didn't even look back. Not at Viona. Not the elders. Just walked out with the girl still trembling in his arms.
I remained at the edge of the hall even after the music died and the light dimmed. My gaze lingered on the stained goblet still resting on the table. Silvervine and brokenmint. Rare. Untraceable by most. Deadly only in high doses. And yet... it was never meant to kill instantly. That's what bothered me.
Flora's nanny took the first sip. She collapsed. But if Flora had sipped first, she wouldn't have dropped immediately. No—she would've suffered slowly. It would've taken hours before symptoms showed.
So then... Why? Why use such a substance at all? It wasn't designed for spectacle. It was designed for secrecy. A quiet death, away from prying eyes. Something meant to be dismissed as illness. Something timed.
Which meant the nanny had not only died protecting the girl... but disrupted the entire plan. So, who was the intended victim? Flora? Or the nanny?
I ran the scene through my mind again. The maid—one I had never seen before tonight—had moved with purpose. No hesitation. She poured only one goblet. No rotation. No confusion. Which meant she had a target in mind. And she did not expect the nanny to drink first.
A flicker of memory returned to me. The maid's gaze—cold, unfeeling—watching the nanny drink with no sign of alarm. Her expression only changed when Flora began to cry. That's when she slipped out of the hall. I narrowed my eyes.
The poison was meant for the nanny. Why? Who would target a servant whose sole purpose was to protect a child? Unless she had seen something. Or heard something. Perhaps she had known too much. Perhaps her loyalty to Flora was the threat itself.
In this court, kindness is weakness. And loyalty? Dangerous currency.
As the hall emptied and silence returned like a ghost to the room, I stepped closer to the goblet. I reached out, picked it up, and inhaled. The scent was faint now, masked by wine and blood. But I could still taste the truth beneath it.
Someone wanted the old wolf dead. Someone knew she stood between Flora and whoever was trying to reach her. And someone knew tonight would provide the perfect distraction.
I turned and made my way toward the eastern wing. There were questions to ask. Servants to interrogate. Secrets waiting to crawl out from behind silk curtains. And I would find them. Because chaos is just the first breath of war. And I've always been better in the aftermath. Here I thought that the battle was over only to realize it is just beginning.
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