Count Klarence slowly let his hand slip off of the table. A snort then escaped his mouth, bobbing his head as he gritted his teeth.
After a few seconds, he stopped his movements altogether. He drew a long breath next before facing the lady once more. He bared his teeth at her, his eyes now filled with sharp glints.
Ilya didn't mind the hostility being thrown at her. In peace did she raise her teacup, taking a sip of her tea at once. Satisfied of the taste of the Chamomile tea blooming in her mouth, she lowered the cup.
"You're not that kind of a person who's always on edge, Count Klarence. Are you perhaps trying to get me to lower my guard? Let me ask you again. What's your true purpose for coming here?"
"True purpose, you say? That's what I should be asking you, Lady Ily Gertrude." The Count said as if he was spitting every word, "What's your purpose for including an unnecessary memory inside the sphere? I'm certain that there are other episodes in your life that could've been a better proof of your legitimacy."
Instead of Ilya, the Marquis began laughing at the Count's inquisition. Count Klarence quickly turned his towards Marquis Benedict, glaring at him with all his might.
"I'm serious here, Herkel. If you have nothing good to say, can you just shut your mouth and behave?"
Marquis Benedict immediately stopped himself, but not because he wanted to heed the Count's reproach. It's only for the reason that he wanted to return Count Klarence's glare.
"Therius, why do you even have to beat around the bush? Just tell it to her straight." the Marquis said, taking another sip of his tea thenceforward.
This time, he didn't let go of the cup until it was a drop away from being empty. He then called for one of the maids to refill the cup. Count Klarence watched every move that the Marquis made with a scowl on his face.
Since he was being ignored, the Count chose to divert his gaze towards Ilya. He met her gaze in that instant, making him frown.
"Lady Gertrude, don't be mistaken. I'm not here to antagonize you. I'm here to ask why you're trying to revive Duchess Hevelia von Bismarck's case? Someone did raise concerns on the nature of her death, but it was dismissed by the Noble Tribunal's representative at that time."
The moment that the Count was done speaking, Ilya slammed her hands on the table. She couldn't control her strength, so a crack appeared on the glass. Her lips quivered as she opened her mouth, thus she took a deep breath to calm herself down.
"So," Ilya uttered, her voice shaky, "Are you saying that I should just keep quiet about my departed mother's unjustifiable death?"
Count Klarence broke away from the staredown, lowering his gaze to the cup of tea in front of him.
"You know that I didn't mean that, Lady Gertrude. It's just that-- uh, you don't have to bring up that case in order to gain the favor of the Emperor. I'm sure there are other wa--"
"No!" Ilya shouted as she slammed her hand harder on the table.
A small section of the glass surface finally shattered. Fragments of glass embedded themselves in Ilya's palms. The Marquis hurriedly stood up and made his way to Ilya. However, she stopped him from approaching further by raising her hand. Marquis Benedict clicked his tongue as he scratched his head.
"Call Leahmir Dantallion this instant!" He screamed before beginning to pace back and forth behind Ilya.
On the other hand, Count Klarence merely stared at Ilya. Despite how fragile Ilya looked, he was not the least bit surprised that she was able to break the table. He could see just how infuriated Ilya was at his words.
As she balled her wounded hand into a fist, Ilya started to speak.
"I don't want to hear any of these, Count Klarence. I'm only doing what I have to do in order to accomplish my goals."
"Is it not your goal to be recognized as the Gertrude Dukedom's heir?"
"My goal is none of your business, Count Klarence." Ilya subsequently stood up, "I've had enough of this conversation. Since you've done your job, please take your leave. I'm not feeling well all of a sudden."
Without waiting for the Count's response, Ilya sauntered towards the door with Marquis Benedict on her trail. Count Klarence was left to watch their departure, feeling like there was something lodged in his throat.
~~~
Silence thrived freely inside the parlor. No one dared to make a single move.
Ilya disallowed anyone from approaching the couch she was cheating on and simply let her hand bleed out.
Needless to say, the people around her were frustrated with how she was acting. The most notable one among them was Marquis Benedict. His hands were on his waist as he was thinking of a way to convince Ilya.
Overwrought with the situation, Dantalion ignored Ilya's wishes and went near her. Her accompanying nurses hesitated at first, afraid of the consequences of violating a noble's order. Withal, Viscountess Dantalion urged them with her gaze, compelling them to move in the end.
"Pardon me, Your Grace. However, your health is our top priority at the moment. We can't just leave you with this wound."
Receiving no answer wasn't enough to make Dantalion back down. She immediately knelt beside Ilya and gently took her hand. Relieved that Ilya didn't resist, the woman then quickly glanced at her assistants.
"Get me a small tub filled with water. Also, prepare a soft towel, a pair of tweezers, alcohol, cotton balls, a roll of gauze, and tape."
"Right away, Your Grace."
While the nurses became preoccupied, Dantalion proceeded to check Ilya's palm more thoroughly.
"What is this?" Dantalion abruptly exclaimed, her eyes widening. "I didn't do anything!"
Marquis Benedict, who was observing Dantalion, became curious so he made his approach. Upon seeing Ilya's palm, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Burn marks? Why are burn marks suddenly appearing on your hand, Lady Gertrude?"