Chapter 109
The morning broke too politely for what was about to happen. Birds chirped outside the stone windows, the sun glimmered across the marble floor of the palace, and yet my stomach churned with the kind of tension that only comes before a very bad day.
And just as Lady Moray had predicted, the poisoning incident had wrapped up suspiciously neatly.
The news was that a dead guard had been found hanging from a rafter in his chamber with a note beside him in perfectly neat, conveniently legible handwriting. A confession so fluent it might as well have been written by a playwright: "I alone am responsible for the poisonings at the banquet. I despise the corrupt elite. I had no accomplices. This was my justice."
Even better, a stash of "identical" poison ingredients had been discovered tucked neatly under his bed.
The castle buzzed with murmurs of relief. The nobles, reassured that the threat had been dealt with, relaxed into their usual routines of feasting and scheming.
