"the Wyfgroove Garden doesn't serve special drinks. The scent of the flowers is the special. Whatever you drank wasn't from the garden."
"I didn't know," Salviana murmured, guilt flashing in her eyes.
Alaric nodded, though his fury simmered just beneath the surface. "Can you recognize this maid if you saw her again?"
Salviana hesitated, then shook her head regretfully. "I don't think so. I was so enthralled by the flowers… I didn't even look at her properly. I just sipped the drink."
Alaric stood abruptly, his eyes flashing with determination. He stretched out a hand to her. "Then we're going to the Wyfgroove Garden. Now."
"Right now?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Right now, fiery," he said firmly. "We have an evil thwart to catch."
Salviana nodded, sensing his urgency. "Okay," she agreed, taking his hand.
Together, they left the bedroom, walking swiftly through the corridors and down the grand staircase.
Alaric's fury radiated off him in waves, but he kept his movements measured, his focus unshaken. Salviana followed closely, her heartbeat quickening.
As they passed through the halls, their footsteps echoed ominously, the palace's air suddenly heavier. The garden awaited them—and so did the truth.
Alaric and Salviana arrived at the Wyfgroove Garden in a sleek, black carriage, their presence commanding attention.
Two guards followed closely behind in a separate carriage, their expressions as stoic as their weapons were sharp.
The moment the couple stepped out, Alaric extended a hand to help Salviana down, his movements deliberate and smooth.
Together, they strolled into the vibrant garden, where the scent of flowers mingled with the cool evening breeze.
Three maids rushed to greet them, their bows low and their voices polite but nervous.
"Your Graces," the head maid said, her tone steady but betraying a flicker of unease.
Alaric led his wife to one of the ornate tables, pulling out a chair for her before taking his seat.
His posture was casual, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that made Salviana tilt her head slightly in curiosity.
"I want the garden special," Alaric said, his voice even, though the weight of his words made the maids glance at each other.
The head maid frowned, confusion flashing across her face. "The garden special, Your Grace?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes," Alaric said, leaning back. "The drink."
Salviana watched him carefully, intrigued by his calm yet commanding demeanor.
"I apologize, Your Grace, but I am unaware of any such drink. My Lady, if you could describe it, we'd be happy to prepare it for you," the maid offered hesitantly.
Alaric's gaze was cold as steel as he smiled faintly, gesturing for silence. "Who served my wife here yesterday?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm. The faint smile lingered, but there was no mistaking the threat behind it.
The maid in question hesitated, her hands trembling. "I-I don't know, Your Grace. It wasn't me. I swear—"
"Enough," Alaric cut her off sharply, his voice slicing through her excuses. "I detest liars more than anything else in this world. And you're standing here wasting my time with lies."
The maid shrank under his gaze, her face pale.
Salviana stepped forward slightly, her voice softer but no less firm. "You were here yesterday. All three of you were. Someone handed me that drink—someone poisoned me. I need to know who."
The head maid, still trembling, stepped forward, bowing low. "Your Grace, I beg for mercy. I—I think it was the culprit maid. She was assigned to serve refreshments yesterday."
Alaric's dark eyes shifted to the young woman who had been quiet until now. the culprit maid's head snapped up, her face a mask of shock and fear. "N-no! I didn't—Your Grace, I would never—"
Alaric raised a hand, silencing her. "If you're innocent, you'll have no issue proving it. If you're guilty…" He let the sentence hang, the unspoken threat heavy in the air.
He turned to the guards. "Bind her hands and take her to the interrogation chamber at the estate. She will explain herself there."
the culprit maid began to wail, shaking her head. "No! Please, Your Grace! I swear, I didn't mean to—" She clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing too late her slip of the tongue.
Alaric's faint smile widened, a predator who had just cornered his prey. "Didn't mean to…what? Poison my wife?" His voice was ice, his words deliberate.
the culprit maid collapsed to her knees, sobbing. "It wasn't my idea! I was told to do it! Please, Your Grace, spare me. I was only following orders!"
Salviana's hand gripped Alaric's arm. "Who gave you those orders?" she asked, her voice trembling but determined.
the culprit maid sniffled, looking around as if the trees themselves might be listening. "I—it was one of the queen's attendants. She said it was a test of loyalty."
Alaric's expression darkened further. "A test of loyalty that could've killed the woman I love?" He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "Who. Was. It?"
"I don't know her name," the culprit maid sobbed. "She wore a veil—said the queen wanted to see who could be trusted!"
Alaric straightened, his hands balling into fists. His voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous. "You're lying again. Guards, take her away. I'll question her properly when we're back."
Salviana looked at him with worry in her eyes. "Do you think this could lead back to the queen?"
Alaric shook his head grimly. "We'll find out soon enough. For now, we're going to get answers. And if someone in that court dared to touch you, Salviana, they'll pay in blood."
As the culprit maid was dragged away, Salviana slipped her hand into Alaric's. His grip was firm, grounding her, though his fury burned just beneath the surface.
They returned to the carriage, the garden silent save for the soft rustling of leaves.
"Are you alright?" Alaric asked as they settled inside.
Salviana nodded slowly. "I'm just scared. If this is tied to the queen…"
Alaric's jaw tightened. "Then the throne itself is corrupt. But I'll burn it all down if it means keeping you safe."
They rode back to the estate in silence, but both knew the storm was far from over.