The moment Milly saw the figure approach, her eyes narrowed slightly. Angelina Grey...
The self-proclaimed villainess, Lady Angelina Grey. Just laying eyes on her was enough to make Milly’s stomach tighten with unease. And when Angelina wore that oddly cheerful smile, as she did now, the foreboding only grew stronger.
Such premonitions, Milly knew all too well, almost always proved correct.
Angelina glanced back and forth between Milly and Gilbert, then lifted her voice a note higher than usual as she said, “Say, Prince Gilbert, did you hear? They say poison was found at the grand duke’s daughter’s table.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I was just discussing with her.”
“I’m told the victim was a classmate of ours. When I heard that, I was outraged, and it simply would not abate, so I stormed over here.” Angelina spoke in a theatrically affected tone, her gaze fixed on Milly as if to glare holes through her.
Milly did not miss the way that supposed anger was laced through with mockery.
“Your Highness,” Angelina continued, “they’re even saying Lady Milly herself may have planted the poison.”
Of course she wanted to spread that rumor further. Milly exhaled heavily. What a tiresome business.
Lady Angelina Grey retained her memories from before the world was rewound, which meant she still hated Milly enough to want her dead. Given that, it was no surprise she would seize on this moment, spread the word as widely as she could, and use it to drive suspicion higher.
Just how deeply does she hate me?
Beside Milly, Gilbert frowned uneasily but gave a firm nod. “Yes, Milly already told me. But she’s not the culprit,” he said firmly.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because Milly would never do such a thing. To begin with, she’s Sierra Restreive’s friend. She has no reason, no motive, and certainly no need to resort to such elaborate means.”
“My, my.” Angelina’s eyes went wide, and the corner of her lips twitched, betraying the strain behind her smile. She clearly hadn’t expected Gilbert to declare his faith in Milly’s innocence. Relief welled in Milly’s chest, and in her mind, she stuck out her tongue at Lady Grey. This was the bond of childhood friendship at work. Yet Angelina smoothed her smile back into place and answered in a lilting voice, “Is that so?”
What is she plotting? A faint chill ran down Milly’s spine.
Angelina slipped her hand around Gilbert’s arm and said, “But there is no definitive proof, is there? Lady Milly is still a suspect, whatever your faith in her may be.”
“That may be, but Milly...”
“And to insist, merely on sentiment, that she ‘would never do such a thing’ is part of Your Highness’s charm, but surely you realize how the other nobles will twist it.” She drew his arm closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “For example, ‘The second prince must be aligned with the grand duke’s faction, shielding the daughter’s misdeeds from exposure.’”
Milly heard Gilbert draw a sharp breath. Her mind flashed back to just the other day, when Gilbert had visited the Asteara estate. He had said outright that, as the second prince, he could not be seen as being too close to her. Nobles would twist even the smallest thing into talk of factions. And now, if he were to defend Milly openly, there was no telling what would be said.
Gilbert seemed to grasp Angelina’s point. He hesitated, then shook his head firmly. “I understand your argument. But I swear, I have never thought in such terms.”
“I know that, of course. No one knows better than I that Your Highness is not a man to think so base a thought. And yet, can you be sure what the other nobles will think? Especially here at Grandor, where half the students are of noble birth.” Her brows dipped in a display of wounded sorrow, but her sidelong glance at Milly carried only mockery. “Rumors spread quickly through society. And if it is said—oh, forgive me, Lady Milly, for speaking so bluntly before you—that the second prince is aligning himself with the infamous grand duke’s house, then it is your prospects for the throne that will suffer, Prince Gilbert.”
Gilbert remained silent.
“I simply cannot bear to see you treated in such a way. Please, will you not take my feelings into account?” Moisture glimmered at the corners of Lady Grey’s eyes, and she gave a delicate sniffle. Yet her gaze, and the twitch at the corner of her lips, betrayed the ridicule she could not quite hide from Milly.
No matter how far it went, the villainess’s loathing for Milly seemed bottomless. Milly frowned, while beside her Gilbert fell into uneasy silence, troubled.
For a second prince, any suspicion of ties to the notorious grand duke’s house—a family despised not only by nobility but even by commoners—was more than an inconvenience; it was a liability. Such was the depth of loathing reserved for the grand duke’s line. The earlier rush to cast blame was proof enough. Precisely because the Asteara family was hated, the moment suspicion fell on Milly, no one was willing to believe in her innocence.
With the question of succession hanging in the air, Gilbert could ill afford to invite such rumors.
I’d like to see Lizbel, Milly thought as the two talked.
Gilbert still wore a troubled look, while Angelina was barely concealing her delight.
But Milly knew. If she simply stayed silent, Gilbert would step forward to shield her. He would brush Angelina off, declare that he didn’t care what the other nobles thought, and proclaim Milly’s innocence before them all.
That wouldn’t do. Gilbert, Sierra, and Lizbel were all equally precious friends of Milly. If her presence brought misfortune down on them, she could never forgive herself. She wanted to protect them somehow, even if her father would call it selfish and arrogant. So be it.
Arrogant is exactly what a “final boss” should be.
Milly drew in a steady breath and spoke clearly. “Indeed. She is correct. So please, leave now, Your Highness.”
“What?” Gilbert turned to her, startled.
Milly folded her arms. “A little suspicion doesn’t bother me. Don’t concern yourself further. I can handle this.”
“But...”
“No buts. If I say I’m fine, then I am. You don’t need to worry about a thing. That’s all there is to it.” Cutting off the conversation on her own terms, Milly turned sharply away, leaving Gilbert staring in shock.
The prince called after her in a fluster, but she didn’t look back. The only sound that lingered was Lady Grey’s honeyed voice, positively brimming with satisfaction. Clinging to Gilbert’s arm, she cooed, “Shall we go back?”
Shutting out the sound of the two behind her, Milly rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. “So then, who are you? The one who’s been watching all this time?”
She had sensed a persistent presence lingering nearby for a while. Whoever it was had scrambled to hide once they realized she was approaching, but they hadn’t left. That alone proved they were waiting for her.
And so, a moment later, a face emerged: plain black hair tied in a half-up style, thin-framed spectacles perched on his nose. “Good day to you, Lady Milly.”
Nicholas Einzdohr. President of the Grandor Magic Academy’s student council, and heir to the ducal House of Einzdohr. He glanced toward the direction Lady Grey and Gilbert had gone, his expression faintly uneasy.
“You actually came to the tea party with that ill-suited hairstyle?” Milly asked.
“I didn’t expect to be insulted in place of a greeting.”
“And glasses fogged with steam hardly suit a tea party. That’s common sense in society, you know.”
“Coming from you, my lady, lectures on social etiquette don’t carry much weight.”
A fair point. The grand duke’s house might be the highest of the high, but they were infamous for flouting every rule of noble society.
Milly let out a soft sigh and asked, “So, what did you want? If it’s the physician, he’s already gone on with Sierra to the city hospital.”
“Ah, no, that’s not it.” Nicholas shook his head.
“That’s not why you came?”
“Well, not exactly. I have business with you.”
“With me?” Milly frowned before she could stop herself. Was this to be an interrogation? “Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t the one who poisoned Sierra.”
“I know that. I just wanted to talk a bit.” With that, Nicholas cast a brief glance toward the infirmary. He clearly wanted to move somewhere quieter, more private. Whatever this was, it didn’t look like “just a bit of talk.”
“Does it have to be now?” Milly asked.
“I’d prefer it.”
“Is it truly that important?”
“Yes. And if possible, I’d like it to be just the two of us.” Through the lenses of his spectacles, Nicholas fixed her with those unsettlingly clouded eyes.
I really don’t like the way he looks at me. She couldn’t see what lay behind his fogged spectacles, yet it felt as though he could see straight through her. Milly turned her gaze away almost at once and gave a small nod. “Very well. But when you invite a lady, you might try something a little more gallant.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nicholas answered with a weary look, and Milly allowed herself a faint smile.