Marianne's trembling figure lingered in Evelina's mind as they left the kitchen, her evasive answers raising more questions than they solved.
Her jaw was tight, her fingers gripping the stem of the goblet as though it might slip away and take the truth with it.
Damian's voice broke the tense silence. "If she didn't prepare it, someone else did. We're not leaving this unanswered."
Evelina nodded, her thoughts racing. "The wine. The poison had to have been introduced before it was poured into the goblet. That means the wine itself—or whoever poured it—is the next piece."
Damian glanced at her. "The wine cellar. That's where we go next."
The descent into the palace wine cellar was quiet except for the sound of their footsteps. The air was cool and smelled faintly of old wine and damp stone. Shelves filled with neatly labeled bottles stretched into the shadows.
