The air inside the Rose Quartz Hall was suffocatingly warm, thick with the heavy scents of expensive perfumes, wine, and a little bit of panic.
While the strict order confining everyone to their individual assigned chambers had finally been lifted, no one was actually permitted to leave the palace grounds yet. Imperial guards still stood in rigid formation at every major exit, their polished breastplates reflecting the sunlight.
For a crowd used to absolute freedom and deference, being allowed out of their rooms only to be contained within the grand estate felt like a cruel joke.
"This is completely absurd," Baroness Vane hissed, her silk fan clicking open and shut with frantic, erratic snaps. She paced near a velvet chaise lounge, her elaborate skirts rustling loudly against the marble floor. "We are the pillars of the capital! To keep us locked away in here like common suspects while the princess suffers... what if the culprit is still among us? What if we are the next targets?"
"Oh, quiet down, Vane," a minor count muttered from the corner, loosening his cravat with a trembling hand. "If the culprit wanted us dead, they would have poisoned the entire fountain. They went after Princess Iryna specifically. This wasn’t a random act of terror, it was a targeted execution."
A heavy, uneasy silence fell over the immediate circle of nobles. The fear was there, but as the hours dragged on and the initial shock began to wear off, the panic naturally mutated into its most toxic form, gossip.
"If it was targeted," a sharp-eyed viscountess whispered, leaning in closer to a small group gathered near the heavy drapes, "then we have to look at who stands to gain the most from Her Highness’s sudden... departure."
"What are you implying?"
"Think about it," the viscountess murmured, her eyes darting toward the closed doors before she dropped her voice to a confidential breath. "Wasn’t Duke Zarius the prime candidate for a political betrothal to Princess Iryna?"
A collective intake of breath rippled through the small circle.
"You don’t mean..."
"Why not?" a wealthy young lord chimed in, crossing his arms and wearing a deeply cynical smirk. "Lord Cherion has been clinging to the Northern Duke’s side like a shadow ever since he arrived at the capital. If Princess Iryna were to officially step into the picture as the future Duchess, where does that leave for someone like him? The second? Out on the street?"
"But to poison a member of the royal family?" a conservative elder noble shook his head, looking scandalized. "Isn’t that a bit too cruel? Even for someone desperate to keep their position?"
"Desperate people do desperate things," the viscountess countered smoothly, thoroughly enjoying the center of attention. "And let’s not forget who we are talking about. Look at how many tricks Lord Cherion pulled on Lord Philia in the past. He’s clever, he’s ruthlessly sharp, and he knows exactly how to manipulate the people around him. Who knows what kind of dark alchemical knowledge he brought with him from the North? He certainly has the strongest motive."
"Honestly," a younger noblewoman sighed, twirling a stray curl around her finger with a look of twisted admiration, "if someone tried to snatch my man away from me, I’d probably go crazy too. Can you blame him? It’s going to be the second time! No wonder Lord Cherion took drastic measures to make sure his man didn’t get stolen."
The murmurs grew louder, spreading through the salon like wildfire. Human nature was fickle, in the absence of solid answers from the imperial mages, a convenient, dramatic scapegoat was exactly what the restless crowd needed to distract themselves from their own terror. The narrative was spinning rapidly out of control, shifting from fearful speculation to a dangerous, collective consensus.
"That is enough of your pathetic, small-minded slander."
The nobles turned, their faces flushing with a mix of irritation and embarrassment, only to freeze when they saw who had spoken. Standing near the refreshment sideboard was Derrick, the young heir of the prominent Avery family. His jaw was clenched tight, his posture rigid with an intense, and fury that looked incredibly intimidating for a man who usually kept to the background.
"Lord Derrick?" the viscountess stammered, her smooth composure faltering slightly. "We were merely discussing the possibilities..."
"You were fabricating malicious lies because you are bored and terrified," Derrick snapped, stepping forward into the center of the room. His eyes locked onto the viscountess with absolute disdain. "You sit here in your silks, whispering poison of your own while a woman fights for her life in the infirmary. Lord Cherion saved my life in front of half the court when I was choking, using his own power without a moment’s hesitation while the rest of you stood by and watched like useless statues. To suggest he would cowardly slip poison into a princess’s glass is not only insulting, it’s entirely baseless."
"Lord Derrick, watch your tone," the cynical young lord warned, stepping forward to defend the viscountess. "We are all under immense stress. There is no need to defend someone like him so aggressively. We are just looking at the facts. He has the most obvious motive."
"Motive?" a new, deeply authoritative voice echoed from the side of the salon.
Marchioness Avery stepped out from the crowd, her presence immediately commanding the room. Her expression was colder than a northern winter. She walked to her son’s side, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder, though her icy gaze remained fixed on the gossiping nobles.
"If we are discussing ’facts,’ young man," the Marchioness spoke, her voice filled with disdain, "then let us discuss the fact that the capital’s finest mages have found absolutely zero chemical residue on the tables. If he managed to execute a flawless, untraceable poisoning under the noses of the entire Imperial Guard, then perhaps the entire capital administration should resign in shame."
The young lord swallowed hard, stepping back under the weight of her glare.
"The Avery family does not forget its debts," Marchioness Avery continued, her eyes sweeping across the entire room, forcing several high-ranking nobles to look away in shame. "Lord Cherion proved his character and his medical capabilities before the entire court. He is currently working alongside the Duke and the King to find the actual culprit while you all sit here cowering and spinning fairy tales to comfort yourselves. I suggest you hold your tongues, before the Duke finds out exactly who has been slandering his fiancé."
The mention of Zarius’s name had an immediate, chilling effect. The image of the brutal, unforgiving Northern Duke turning his wrath toward their estates was enough to make even the most vocal gossips turn pale.
The viscountess quickly cleared her throat, looking down at her fan. "Of course... we meant no disrespect to Marchioness Avery, or the Duke. We just... we simply want to go home. We want this nightmare to be over."
Derrick crossed his arms, turning his back on them with absolute disdain.
"Then sit in silence and pray the culprit is caught soon."