“Sierra?!”
Milly watched as Sierra’s body crumpled sideways. A heartbeat later, Sierra’s cup clattered across the tabletop, spilling lukewarm tea in every direction. Milly sprang forward and caught Sierra just before she struck the ground.
Lizbel screamed. Sierra’s eyes were wide open, her mouth working in shallow, ragged breaths. The sight snapped Milly into motion. She rolled Sierra onto her side, forcing her face toward the ground.
Poison. The shallow, rapid breathing, the bloodshot eyes, the convulsions, all of it lined up.
“Spit it up!” Milly wrapped an arm around Sierra’s stomach and pressed hard beneath her ribs. Sierra gagged, but nothing came out. Not hesitating, Milly shoved her fingers down Sierra’s throat while bearing down on her belly again. Sierra writhed, and the moment Milly pulled her hand back, a gush of tea and bile splattered onto the ground. “Sierra! Can you hear me?!”
“Ghh... Ahhh...”
“Sierra!” She cried her name again, desperate, until Sierra sucked in a ragged breath.
“Thank goodness! You’re breathing. It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“M-Milly...”
“Yes, I’m here. You did so well. Thank you. I’m sorry I hurt you, but you’re safe now.”
Sierra’s eyes eased, her breathing beginning to settle. Milly rubbed her back, then turned to Lizbel, who stood pale and trembling.
“Lizbel, please, go get the school physician.”
“A-At once!”
“On your way, tell any teachers you meet. Tell as many as you can. Say the tea or the cups were poisoned. They’ll come running.”
Lizbel nodded repeatedly, then bolted away as if fleeing. Milly watched her go, clutching her friend a little tighter. Only one thought crowded her mind. Who would do something like this?
Word of what had happened was already spreading. A noisy crowd gathered around Milly’s table, some students shrieking that their own cups might be poisoned as well.
This isn’t a prank. It’s attempted murder.
Someone had deliberately slipped poison into the tea. Since it wasn’t a random contamination, there was only one answer: A person with malice in their heart was among the people involved.
And that cup had originally been meant for Milly. Because it had ended up with Sierra by chance, this disaster had unfolded.
Sierra... Seeing the girl sweating and gasping for breath, Milly felt on the verge of tears. This was nothing but collateral damage. Whether the culprit had targeted Milly didn’t change the fact that Sierra had been made to drink poison.
“You won’t get away with this.” Milly’s voice was low and cold as she gazed at Sierra’s face, her eyes shut in unconsciousness. Her friend had been put in grave danger.
There was no way Milly could forgive this. If anything, she wanted to make whoever did it suffer the same pain. She wouldn’t let them walk free. They deserved punishment, divine or otherwise.
“M-Milly?” came a faint murmur. Sierra’s hand moved weakly toward Milly.
Milly clasped it firmly and shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll protect you.”
The school physician came running barefoot a moment later, face drained of color. Lizbel, it seemed, had carried out Milly’s request faithfully. Teachers trailed behind her, and together they lifted Sierra to hurry her to the infirmary.
By then, however, the crowd had already swelled around Milly’s table, the number of onlookers enormous.
“Poison? From the grand duke’s daughter’s table?!”
“Heavens, then maybe ours was poisoned too!”
“Sierra Restreive? Never heard of her. Who is she?”
With Milly and Lizbel the only ones left at the table, the students who had rushed in on the commotion whispered among themselves. A quick glance told Milly there were close to a hundred. Teachers barked at them to return to their seats, but the shouts were drowned by wild speculation, panicked cries, and shrill gossip. The place had descended into chaos.
“They said the school had tightened security, yet poison shows up at the grand duke’s daughter’s table? What is going on here?!”
The student’s murmur spread like wildfire, and the crowd collectively began to nod.
“Yes. Someone must be involved.”
“And what about security? What were the maids and porters doing? Even the knights who helped set up the venue could be suspicious.”
“Isn’t there someone else we ought to be questioning first?” A noble-looking girl, flanked by her attendants, raised her voice above the din. Once she had everyone’s attention, she smiled with satisfaction and pressed on. “Lizbel Garcia, a girl from that scandal-ridden viscount family, her hair as dingy as dust. Doesn’t she seem just the sort to stoop to such cowardly tricks?”
At the sound of her name, Lizbel’s shoulders jerked violently.
“Those of proper rank should already know what people are saying about the Garcia viscounts in society these days.” The girl advanced slowly and stopped right in front of Lizbel, who was trembling. “Weren’t you the one who joined this table late? That makes you more than suspicious.”
Her attendants chimed in on cue, each echoing the accusation.
“That’s right!”
“She’s right about that.”
Nodding along, the ringleader flicked open her fan and forced Lizbel’s chin upward with it, the latter’s face going deathly pale. The other girl’s lips curled into a smirk, and she shot Milly a sidelong glance, like a dog waiting for praise.
But Milly only kept her usual stony expression. That alone seemed to satisfy her accuser immensely.
“I-I... I didn’t!” protested Lizbel.
“Of course you would deny it. You’ve been shunned by society so long you’ve gone mad, haven’t you? You must have bungled an attempt on the grand duke’s daughter.”
“N-no, I didn’t! I only...only...”
“You even have a motive. After all, you’ve always hated the grand ducal house.”
In that instant, a cold voice, clear and commanding, cut through the clamor and seized the space. “I had no idea society was so full of classless young ladies.”
Every gaze swung toward its source. Milly Asteara stood there, brow set in fierce lines, carrying herself with unshakable authority.
“This is beneath contempt,” she continued, her frosty eyes sweeping over the accuser and her gaggle of followers. “My friend has just been put in mortal danger, my temper is already frayed, and now you parade this tawdry farce of an inquisition before me. How much further do you mean to test my patience?” The accuser, until now blustering with confidence, froze under Milly’s stare. She paled as the realization dawned that she was being condemned. Desperately, she shook her head.
“N-No! You misunderstand, Your Imperial Highness!”
“What exactly am I misunderstanding?”
“I-I only meant to speak in your defense, so I pointed to that girl...”
“I have no need for you to speak for me. Your name and presence were unknown to me until today. Do not presume to share my thoughts.”
At that, all color drained from the girl’s face. Milly exhaled, long and heavy, and almost every onlooker watched her with rapt attention.
“Lizbel sat at this table for one reason only: because I invited her,” Milly said with calm precision. “I was taken by her beautiful silver hair at first sight. I invited her because I wished to. Who, pray tell, has the right to complain about that?”
And besides, reason made it plain that Lizbel could not have been the one to slip in poison. She had never been left alone long enough, and it was Milly herself who had brought her to the table. To accuse her family without any evidence was insulting.
“Then...who put the poison in?” The voice came trembling from among the onlookers.
“Yes, who could it have been?”
“Oh no! What if we drank some ourselves without realizing it?!”
Panic followed in shrill cries. What if their own tea had been tainted? What if they had already ingested it, and in a moment they would writhe on the ground like Sierra?
Not one of them worries for Sierra herself, do they? Watching the crowd whip itself into frenzy, Milly felt curiously detached.
The poison had clearly been fast acting. If none of them showed symptoms by now, they were safe enough. Sniffing out the culprit here and now was useless.
Nobles really do think of nothing but their own skins. Perhaps father’s hatred of society is a little easier to understand now. This uproar served only one person’s interest: the perpetrator’s.