Chapter 147: Royal Duties & Other Unexpected Tortures

Chapter 147: Royal Duties & Other Unexpected Tortures [Osric’s POV—Everheart Mansion, Osric’s Chamber] "Did the maid confess anything?" I asked, pushing open the heavy chamber door. It groaned like an old beast—same as my patience lately. Aldric, vice-captain of the Everheart Knights and the most maddeningly by-the-book man I knew, stood waiting by the hearth. Firelight caught on the polished edge of his armor, and for a moment, he looked like he belonged on a stained-glass window. He inclined his head. "No, my lord. She keeps repeating the same thing—says she never saw the man’s face. Hooded. Voice distorted. Paid in foreign coin." I nodded, already peeling off my black overshirt. The fabric clung to my skin, stiff with dried sweat and palace heat. My body ached—though I wasn’t sure if it was from sword drills or the weight of carrying too many secrets. "And... Marquess Everett?" I asked, voice low as I tossed the shirt aside. Aldric exhaled slowly, like he didn’t want to answer. "We investigated. Thoroughly. But he came up... Clean, my lord. Not a trace of anything suspicious. No bribes. No leaked documents. Not even a late-night stroll." I stilled. He continued, cautiously, "Forgive me, but... I don’t understand why you suspect him. The Marquess has no clear motive to poison the Princess." I turned slowly, fixing him with a stare sharp enough to crack stone. "Did I ask for your understanding, Aldric?" He flinched. "I—I apologize, my lord. I overstepped." I ran a hand through my hair, suppressing the urge to snap. "Just... look deeper. Dig beneath the clean surface. I want to know if he’s had any contact with foreigners in the past three months. Anyone unaccounted for? Anyone who came in shadow and left without a trace." "Yes, my lord," he said with a bow of his head. "And what about the poison?" Aldric straightened. "It’s unregistered. A compound of rare herbs, difficult to trace. But one of the ingredients we identified... was bellvine." That got my full attention. Bellvine. The herb that burned slowly through blood like acid. Nearly tasteless. Fatal in the right dose. Illegal in every kingdom across the continent. His next words were the nail in the coffin. "Refined. Laced into imported teas... from the Southern Continent." My lips barely moved as I muttered, "Southern Continent... I see. You can leave now." Aldric bowed again. "Yes, my lord." And with quiet efficiency, he left the room. I stood still for a beat. Then, slowly, I dragged a hand over my face and whispered to the empty room, "He’s playing clean..." But I knew better. The dreams. No—visions. The memories that felt too vivid to be mere nightmares. In every one, it was Marquess Everett who slipped the poison to Caelum. Except... this time, Caelum never delivered it. And the attempt happened sooner than it should’ve. That terrified me more than anything. It feels like the timeline was changing. The path that came in the nightmare was bending. Which meant... "Someone else is pulling the strings," I murmured, pacing toward the window. "Someone deeper. Higher. Maybe even closer." The foreign coin. The missing face. The altered plan. "Everett wasn’t acting alone," I said aloud, to no one. "He’s being led. Encouraged. Used." But by who? I turned away from the window, frustration mounting. Am I missing something? Or... is someone rewriting the script while I play by the old rules? I sighed—deep, exhausted—and collapsed onto the edge of the bed. The soft cushion swallowed me whole, and for the first time in days, I let myself feel the weight in my shoulders. "Everything feels heavier now..." I whispered into the quiet. And for once again, the silence didn’t comfort me. It made everything feel... inevitable. *** [Lavinia’s POV—Council Meeting Room, Next Day] The royal meeting room smelled like old scrolls, spiced ink, and the collective stress of too many people trying to sound important. I sat near the far end of the grand mahogany table, legs daintily crossed beneath about four layers of silk. "...The trade route through the Eastern Country Pass has been delayed due to recent weather conditions." Count Talvan droned on, voice smooth. "We propose a minor tax adjustment on grain to offset the delay," he added, glancing up as though he just dropped a nugget of divine wisdom. I blinked slowly. My soul had left the room ten minutes ago since my butt was hurting from sitting here for so long. I glanced sideways at Papa. There he was—seated at the head of the table, regal, composed, and wrapped in an aura of quiet intimidation. His expression? Unreadable as always. Probably thinking about sword maintenance or whether the council room needs better acoustics for dramatic silences. "What do you think, Your Majesty?" Count Talvan asked. Papa smiled. Smiled. Uh-oh. Because I know that smile. It’s the one he wears when he’s about to throw me under the metaphorical political carriage. And sure enough, he turned to me, his voice smooth and vaguely amused. "What do you think we should do, my dear daughter?" My spine straightened. Every head in the room snapped toward me like we were in some kind of synchronized political ballet. Oh gods. This felt like an exam. No. Worse. Like an oral presentation with a surprise question and zero notes. And the examiners? An entire room of nobles who smell like scrolls and skepticism. I cleared my throat. "I... I think we should lower the tax a little," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable while internally screaming. "The heavy rains must’ve damaged a good portion of their goods. And if the people are already struggling, they won’t be able to pay full taxes on top of it." There was a pause. Then— Nods. Several of them. Smiles. Even the forever-frowning Baron Fenwick nodded like I’d just told him poetry. Count Talvan cleared his throat. "A fair and compassionate proposal." Papa raised a brow at him, then looked toward the table’s far end. "Do as she said," he instructed. Both Talvan and Fenwick rose slightly in their seats and bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty." I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. And with that—praise the heavens—the meeting finally ended. The nobles gathered their scrolls and shuffled out of the chamber, whispering politely about "what a fine young voice the princess has" and "how well-bred she sounds." I slumped in my chair like a deflating cushion. "God," I mumbled, stretching my arms above my head with a little groan, "how can sitting still for this long be this exhausting? I swear I burned more calories here than I did sword training this morning." Papa stood with all the grace of a man who hadn’t just survived an hour-long boredom ritual. "You’ve earned a break," he said, and for once, his voice was softer—like warm tea with a hint of approval. My eyes sparkled. "Then I shall seize the moment." I shot up from my chair like a sparkly comet. "Time for some strawberry cake! Real diplomacy fuel." Papa raised a brow. I darted toward him and, before he could dodge, planted a dramatic kiss on his cheek. "See you later, Papa~!" I practically twirled out of the room like a sugar-starved pixie. Behind me, I heard the deep, unmistakable sound of his chuckle. And then— I froze. My eyes widened. My heart did a little backflip. "NANNYYYYY!" I bolted toward the familiar figure like a drama heroine reunited with her long-lost soulmate after seven lifetimes of reincarnation. She barely had time to react before I launched into her arms, clinging like a koala with abandonment issues. "Oh thank the stars—you’re back! I missed you soooo much!" Nanny chuckled, warm and teary-eyed, wrapping her arms around me in that cozy, squishy way only she could. "I missed you too, Princess. My sweet little sunshine." "Ugh," came a voice nearby. "I arrived too, you know." Marella. I peeked over Nanny’s shoulder. Marella stood there, arms crossed, expression thoroughly unimpressed by my dramatic reunion. I blinked. And promptly ignored her. "So, Nanny," I said sweetly, "did you enjoy your little royal vacation?" Nanny smiled kindly, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Of course I did, Princess. It was a lovely change of pace." (Translation: she finally got a full night’s sleep without me causing chaos.) I had sent both of them—Nanny and Marella—on a much-needed break before the whole poison incident. They deserved it. Honestly, they served me more loyally than half the knights in the empire. Nanny opened her mouth again. "But when we heard you—" "Nope!" I cut her off, grinning. "I’m fine now. Alive. Kicking. Sparkling with vengeance and immune system of a demigod. See?" I spun in a circle for emphasis. "No poison’s gonna get me twice!" Nanny sighed and touched my cheeks, her voice cracking. "I never should’ve left your side. If I was here, no one would’ve dared lay a hand—or poison—on my sweetheart." Her eyes were getting shiny. Oh no. Tears alert. Before I could deploy distraction tactics, Marella popped in dramatically. "And if I was here," she said, hands on hips, "I would’ve beaten that treacherous maid to a steaming, floor-washing pulp." I blinked at her. "Very aggressive. I’m strangely proud." Then I narrowed my eyes. "Wait a minute... Did you bring something for me?" Marella froze. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "Well... I—we couldn’t find anything suitable for you—" "Ohhh no." I slumped against Nanny, draping myself like a tragic heroine in act two of a heartbreak opera. "Betrayal. Utter betrayal. What kind of lady-in-waiting forgets to bring a gift for her emotionally fragile, recently poisoned princess?" "Princess, no—! I really wanted to bring you something! It’s just—every shop looked like it was meant for goats and overly cheerful merchants!" "Sure. Sure," I mumbled. "Tell it to my empty hands." Nanny chuckled, clearly enjoying Marella’s slow unraveling. "She might not have brought you a gift, but..." Her eyes twinkled. "She does have a certain news to share." My head perked up. "Aha?" I turned to Marella, intrigued. "Well? What is it?" She blushed. Like, full bloom blush. The kind where even her ears turned pink. "I... I... I’m getting married." ... ... ... "WHEN?!" She giggled. "We haven’t fixed the date yet, Princess..." I blinked. "Okay. One moment." I turned to the sky. Shouted at the heavens. "WHY IS EVERYONE AROUND ME GETTING MARRIED?!" Both Nanny and Marella stared at me, startled. "Wait—someone else is getting married too?" Nanny asked. I nodded solemnly. "Yes. It’s—" "PRIIIIIIINCESSSSSSSS!" And then he came. Theon. Bounding down the hallway like a lovesick gazelle on caffeine. He skid to a stop in front of me, eyes shining, arms outstretched. He knelt dramatically—like, full theatrical kneel—tossing his head back like a swooning duchess. "THANK YOU! BECAUSE OF YOU—!" One arm shot into the sky like he was summoning lightning. "I AM FINALLY GETTING MARRIED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!" The corridor echoed with his joy. Somewhere, a harp probably played. I looked at Nanny. She blinked once. Twice. "I... see," she said, slowly processing the chaos in front of her. Marella leaned in and whispered, "Poor Lady Evelyn... she’s going to have such a hard time dealing with this grown child." I nodded. "May the gods have mercy on her." We all stared at Theon, who was now spinning in place and mumbling about floral color palettes and moonlit kisses.