The room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood whenever Elizabeth shifted in her chair.
Eustass lay still on the bed, his breathing slow, eyes closed—playing the role of the fainted prince with unsettling patience.
Elizabeth sat beside him, brushing her fingers lightly over his hair. Her gaze was fixed on his face, unblinking. She didn't speak. She didn't even frown. She just… watched.
The maid who had helped carry him here stood at the door, hands clasped in front of her, posture stiff. The stillness was heavy—thick enough to feel.
Minutes dragged on before Elizabeth finally pushed back her chair with a soft scrape. She lingered a moment, then rose to her feet.
"I'm going to my room," she said, her voice steady but edged with weariness. "I… need to pack."
The maid blinked. "Pack, my lady?"
Elizabeth's hand hovered over the doorframe. "Every time my son steps foot in this palace, something happens. First, the fall from the horse. Now…" she glanced at Eustass, "…this. I've had enough. We're leaving."
She took a step into the hall, then turned back to the maid. "Watch him. If anything changes—or if he wakes—come to me immediately."
"Yes, my lady."
Elizabeth left, her footsteps fading into silence. The door began to close—
"It's you… isn't it."
The voice was low, calm, but it made the maid's blood run cold.
She froze, her fingers tightening on the door handle before she slowly turned.
Eustass was no longer on the bed. He sat in Elizabeth's chair, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, watching her like a judge awaiting a confession. The boyish softness in his face was gone.
Her throat tightened. "I… don't understand, Your Highness."
"You're the one," he said evenly, "who wiped the poison on my glass. And my mother's."
"I—" she faltered, forcing a shaky laugh. "Your Highness, I would never—"
"Don't bother lying." His tone didn't rise, but the sharpness in it cut through her words.
He stood, walking toward her slowly. "So… who ordered you?"
She kept her gaze locked on him, trying not to flinch. "…No one. I don't know what you—"
He raised his thumb to her face.
She frowned. "…What is that supposed to mean?"
"I want you to kiss it."
The maid let out a nervous chuckle. "Your Highness, that's—surely you're joking—"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
The dead calm in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Almost against her will, she knelt, took his small hand, and brushed her lips against his thumb.
The moment she did, his voice came, low and almost amused.
"It has the same poison you wiped on my glass."
Her eyes widened. She jerked back, gagging. The taste hit her tongue, sharp and bitter. Within seconds, she was clutching her throat, retching violently onto the floor.
"It takes what—eight to ten hours?" Eustass asked, as if idly making conversation.
She coughed, eyes watering. "How do you—know about that—?" She stopped, too late realizing her mistake.
His smirk widened. "So I was right."
Something in her broke. She lunged at him, slamming him to the ground. Her hands locked around his neck, squeezing hard.
"If the poison doesn't kill you," she spat, voice trembling, "then I will. I know I'm going to be executed anyway… but at least I can save my family!"
Her fingers dug into his skin, her breath uneven, but Eustass didn't resist. He simply looked at her—unblinking, unreadable.
Then, slowly, his right hand lifted and cupped her cheek. His voice was quiet, almost warm.
"It's alright."
She froze. She hadn't once looked at his face since she started choking him. But now she did—and what she saw stopped her heart.
No fear. No anger. Just a faint, genuine smile.
Her grip loosened.
Tears welled in her eyes before spilling over. Her hands dropped, trembling, as she covered her face. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I didn't have a choice…"
"You still do," Eustass said softly.
Her shoulders shook. The poison's bitter taste still clung to her tongue, but the weight of her guilt was heavier. She sank to the floor, sobbing openly.
Eustass rose slowly, as though testing whether his legs would hold. The faint reddish marks along his neck were stark against the pale of his skin—raw, undeniable proof of what had just transpired.
He didn't rub them. He didn't flinch. He only stood there for a moment, watching the girl before him.
Emilia remained where she had fallen, knees pressed into the polished floor, her shoulders quivering with the kind of tremor that came from both fear and shame. Her head stayed bowed, and the tears that fell from her cheeks left small dark spots on the rug.
Eustass crossed the short distance to the bed and sat down, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was thick, coiled tight, heavy with the words neither had spoken yet.
He drew a breath, ready to speak—
"If you wish to punish me…" Maid's voice broke through first, thin and trembling but urgent, as if she feared the opportunity to speak might vanish. She still stared at the floor, never daring to meet his gaze. "…I know what it means. Death." Her voice caught, but she pushed on. "But… please… don't involve my family. Let them be spared. I don't want them to suffer for what I've done… even if I deserve it."
The request hung in the air for a moment, soft but desperate.
Eustass's head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable. His voice, when it came, was cool and direct. "So… who's behind all of this?"
For a heartbeat, she didn't answer. Her lips pressed tight, trembling with hesitation. Then, in barely more than a whisper: "…It's Sir Dwayne. He told me to put the poison in your drinks."
Eustass's eyes narrowed slightly.
Dwayne Cliffmond…
A name that fit too neatly. A former Royal Envoy—the king's chosen voice in foreign courts, the man trusted to negotiate with other kingdoms on matters of war, trade, and peace.
Fifteen years from now—1015—history would record him as a traitor. Executed for treason and fraud. The trial had been too clean. Too perfect. Dwayne had confessed to everything, as if eager to claim the role of villain. Eustass had always believed he was only a puppet. Someone else had been pulling the strings.
But if Dwayne was already making moves now… who was commanding him?
Eustass's thoughts clicked back into the present. His voice cut through the silence. "Alright. You may leave."
Her head snapped up slightly, eyes wide. "W-wait, Your Majesty…"
"It's fine," he replied evenly. "It's not your fault. You were ordered to do it, and you had no choice." He leaned back slightly, folding his hands loosely in his lap. "What happened here stays between us."
She blinked, confusion flickering over her tear-streaked face. "Then… you could at least punish me. For hurting you."
"There's no need."
Her brows knit. "Then… what's the cost? At least let me do something right for you, Your Majesty."
Eustass tilted his head slightly, studying her as if weighing whether to tell her something. Before he could answer, Maid's lips trembled into a small, bitter smile.
"It doesn't matter," she murmured. "Even if you let me go… I'm already as good as dead."
His gaze narrowed. "And why is that?"
"Because of the poison," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on his hand. "You… made me kiss your thumb earlier. If it was laced with what I put in your glass, it's already in my blood. I can feel it in my chest now… the way it will burn, and then slow my heart." She laughed weakly, a sound more pitiful than amused. "I suppose… that's fitting, isn't it?"
For a moment, Eustass just stared at her—then he exhaled slowly. "You're mistaken."
Her eyes lifted, uncertain.
"There was no poison on my thumb," he said simply. "I didn't wipe it from the rim of the cup. I let you think I did."
She blinked, stunned. "But… then why did I taste something bitter?"
Eustass's gaze softened just slightly. "That was the ointment my mother rubbed on my neck earlier."
The realization sank in, and her breath hitched. "…You… spared me?"
"I saw no reason to kill you," he replied, tone even. "You've already been used once. I won't let you be used again for someone else's convenience."
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She lowered her head, and for the first time, her tears weren't from fear—they were from the strange warmth of gratitude that flooded her chest. She pressed her palms against the floor and bowed low. "Thank you, Your Majesty… for your kindness."
He lay back on the bed, eyes closing briefly as though the conversation now bored him. "Just… stay as you are."
The weight of the moment lingered, silent but charged.
The door burst open.
"Oh, thank God, you're awake!" Elizabeth's voice was sharp with relief as she rushed inside, her skirts sweeping over the floor in quick, heavy steps. She moved straight to the bed, her hands cupping her son's face, eyes scanning for any sign of harm. Then her gaze shifted—and fixed on the maid still kneeling near him.
"Why didn't you call me the moment he woke?" Elizabeth's tone hardened. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And why are you crying?"
The maid's lips parted, but before she could speak, Eustass's voice slipped in, smooth and unhurried. "She's just happy I'm awake. That's all." He glanced towards the maid with a subtle, silent warning in his eyes.
"Yes, milady," the maid said quickly, bowing her head. "I apologize for not telling you sooner."
"You can leave now," Eustass added, his voice calm but final.
The Maid rose to her feet, bowing deeply. She had just reached the doorway when his voice stopped her.
"What's your name?"
She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. "…Emilia."
"Alright, Emilia," he said quietly. "Go."
She bowed once more and slipped out, her steps fading into the corridor, leaving only the faint, lingering tension behind.