Chapter 26: Food and Poison

Chapter 26: Food and Poison What would you do if you were sitting down for breakfast, your stomach growling from the hunger of a long night, only to realize there's poison in the food? Not a metaphorical poison, but the real deal—deadly, silent, creeping through the delicious aroma of whatever feast is laid out in front of you. It's a tricky situation, especially when you don't know who did it. The cooks? The maids? Or maybe some unseen hand you've never met. And here you are, the Prince Consort, sitting in a chair you never really asked for, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, trying to decide whether to take a bite. Mikhailis stared at the breakfast tray in front of him, his fingers tapping the edge of the wooden table rhythmically. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows in the room, and the soft clatter of dishes being set on the table echoed faintly. The maids worked silently, their expressions neutral, but there was something... off. He couldn't quite place it. But there it was. A tension in the air. His usual carefree smile stayed plastered on his face, but behind it, his mind was already working, piecing together the puzzle. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts, especially in situations like this. Something didn't sit right. The faint bitterness in the aroma of the soup, the slight sheen on the surface of the fruit slices—small details most wouldn't notice. But he wasn't most people. His eyes flickered to the maid closest to him, Lira, standing just a few steps away, hands folded neatly in front of her apron. She seemed fine. A little stiff, maybe, but she was always like that. No, it was the other maids, the ones he didn't know, the ones who had arrived just this morning. There was a slight tremor in the hands of one as she poured tea. Her eyes didn't meet his. Interesting. Came Rodion's voice, soft and cold, as if reading the situation right alongside him. Mikhailis hummed lightly, pretending to take in the scent of the tea. Mikhailis raised his cup, swirling the liquid around, watching as the sunlight hit the surface. "Well," he muttered quietly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "This takes me back." His mind drifted, though his eyes never left the maids, who were watching him out of the corner of their eyes. He had been here before, hadn't he? "I insist," Mikhailis had added, gesturing toward the soup with a flourish. "Join us. It's only fair, right?" The maid's face had gone pale. A slight tremor had passed through her hands as she set the soup ladle down. And then, just for a second, she had hesitated. That hesitation had been all Mikhailis needed. In a flash, he had leapt from his chair, grabbing the maid's wrist with surprising strength for a twelve-year-old. The rest of the dining hall had erupted into chaos. Guards had rushed in, his parents standing in shock as Mikhailis calmly pinned the maid down, his face still wearing that same innocent smile. "The soup's poisoned," he had said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather. "I'd check the other dishes too, just in case." And that had been that. The maid had been escorted out, her guilt written all over her face. The investigation that followed had revealed a plot, a subtle attempt on the royal family's lives, all hidden behind a charming smile and a bowl of soup. His parents had been both horrified and impressed. His father had called him reckless, while his mother had simply looked at him with a mixture of pride and concern. "You have the mind of a king," she had said later, her voice soft as she knelt beside him in the quiet of the palace library. "But be careful, Mikhailis. There will be many who will want to use it." He hadn't really understood the weight of her words back then. He had just shrugged, more interested in the book on entomology he had been reading. But now, years later, sitting at another table, in another kingdom, with poison once again in front of him, he finally understood. ___ Mikhailis blinked, bringing himself back to the present. The maids were still standing there, their eyes on him, waiting for his next move. He could feel the weight of their gazes, the subtle tension in the air, but he remained calm, his grin never faltering. "Well," he said, picking up his spoon and twirling it between his fingers, "I suppose it's time to eat." But instead of taking a bite, he set the spoon down again, his eyes locking onto the maid who had poured the tea. "You know," he said, his tone light, almost playful, "I always prefer to share my meals. It's so much more fun when everyone gets to taste the same thing." He gestured to the tray of food in front of him, offering the maid a wide smile. "Why don't you join me?" Her face paled instantly, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the table. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation. Rodion's voice whispered in his ear. Mikhailis leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well?" he asked, his voice still light but with a hint of steel beneath it. "Don't be shy. After all, it's just breakfast, right?" The maid swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the other servants in the room, looking for some kind of escape. But there was none. And Mikhailis knew he had her.