Before Cassius could push further, Edmund seized the opportunity to speak.
"No! Don't listen to him, Isabelle!" He croaked desperately, his voice raw from Cassius's grip. "You don't have to accept whatever twisted deal he's offering!"
Cassius shot Edmund a disdainful look, cutting off his protests with a sharp glare. "Did I ask for your opinion?" He said icily. "Keep talking, and I'll shove you into that fireplace over there...I'm sure roasted pig would make an excellent midnight snack." His words, though delivered with a calm tone, carried enough malice to make Edmund snap his mouth shut in fear.
Despite his indignation, Edmund tried again, his voice trembling but insistent.
"Isabelle, listen to me! I-l meant what I said before. I fell in love with you at first sight. And yes, I wanted to kill him...But it wasn't just for my ambition!" His voice grew weaker, desperation taking hold. "I wanted you to have a better life...I wanted you to be the lady of the house, not some maid. You mean more to me than you think."
Cassius rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.
"Touching." He said flatly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you don't get to monologue your way out of this." He glanced at Isabelle, who looked conflicted, her hands trembling at her sides. "Tell me, do his words sway your heart?..Or are you still willing to do anything to save him?"
Before Isabelle could respond, Edmund, realising his situation was only getting worse, made one last desperate attempt. "Cassius!" He hissed, his voice low but frantic. "Your father, Lord Holyfield! He wouldn't approve of this...He'll punish you if he finds out!"
At that, Cassius's expression shifted, his cruel smile returning.
"Ah, you mean my father, the man you tried to manipulate with your sycophantic behavior?" The same man who you betrayed by plotting against his blood?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Do you really think he'll mourn you when I tell him the truth?"
Edmund's face paled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Cassius's words. He opened his mouth to retort but found himself utterly speechless, the hopelessness of his situation sinking in.
Isabelle, meanwhile, stood frozen, torn between her sense of responsibility and the horrifying realisation of what would happen to her if she agreed to what Cassius said.
Isabelle stood silently for a moment, her mind racing. The weight of Edmund's pleading gaze bore into her, but she shut it out. A promise was a promise, and if this was the price of sparing Edmund's life, she would pay it.
Taking a steadying breath, she looked at Cassius and nodded, saying, "Fine. I'll do whatever you ask."
"Isabelle, don't! He's just toying with you! You can't trust him!" Edmund groaned in frustration.
Cassius ignored Edmund entirely, leaning back slightly as his piercing red eyes settled on Isabelle. A mischievous smile crept onto his face, and he finally spoke.
"Good. I'm glad you're reasonable. Now, my request." He paused dramatically, watching her tense as though bracing for the worst.
"...I want you to make me a meal."
The words took a moment to sink in.
Isabelle blinked, confusion flickering across her face.
"A...meal?" She repeated, her voice uncertain, as if she had misheard him.
"Yes." Cassius confirmed, his tone casual yet deliberate. "I've been eating meals laced with your lovely poison for quite some time now. It's only fair I get to enjoy one that won't kill me." He added the last part with a faint chuckle, as if joking about his near-death experience was the most natural thing in the world.
Isabelle's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she nodded quickly, determined to make up for her sins.
"I'll make you the best meal you've ever had." She said with quiet conviction before hurrying off toward the kitchen.
Cassius smirked as he watched her leave.
With a content sigh, he pulled out a small, leather-bound book from his coat and sat in a nearby chair, flipping through the pages leisurely.
The calm, almost domestic scene he created was a stark contrast to the chaos of moments earlier.
Edmund, still sitting on the floor where Cassius had dropped him, shifted uncomfortably. He tried to rise, but the instant Cassius's sharp crimson gaze landed on him, he froze.
The cold, silent warning in Cassius's eyes was enough to make him sink back down, his pride utterly shattered. He sat stiffly, like a dog waiting for permission to move.
Cassius returned his attention to his book, ignoring Edmund entirely, as though the man's very presence was beneath his notice. The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the room, save for the faint clinking of utensils coming from the kitchen.
Time stretched on, with Edmund occasionally glancing nervously at Cassius, only to find the young master utterly unbothered, as if the events of the evening were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
Finally, Isabelle entered the room with a tray stacked high with steaming containers. The enticing aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, filling the room with warmth.
She carefully set the containers on the dining table, revealing a feast of perfectly cooked dishes—roast meat glistening with juice, fragrant rice, tender vegetables, and a rich, creamy soup. She then stepped back and surveyed her work, a satisfied glimmer in her eyes as she admired the spread.
She turned to Cassius, her tone polite but carrying a hint of pride, "Young Master, please take the main seat. I've prepared this meal especially for you."
Cassius glanced up from his book, his crimson eyes flickering with mild interest. He closed the book with a quiet thud and rose from his chair, moving toward the dining table with the grace of a predator.
His presence filled the room as he approached, making Isabelle feel both nervous and eager for his approval.
As Cassius took the main seat, Isabelle's gaze darted toward Edmund, still sitting stiffly on the ground with his head bowed, his pride thoroughly crushed. Frowning, she tilted her head and asked,
"Edmund...Why are you still sitting on the floor? Come sit at the table."
Edmund flinched at her words but didn't move or respond. The humiliation of being reduced to a grovelling dog by Cassius was too much to bear, and his silence spoke volumes.
Cassius leaned back in his chair, a faint, mocking smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Oh, don't mind him." He said with an air of nonchalance. "He's just sulking...Come now, Edmund." His tone sharpened, and his eyes glinted with a cruel edge as he added, "Join us at the table...You wouldn't want to miss this meal, would you?"
The underlying meaning in his words sent a shiver down Edmund's spine. There was no kindness in Cassius's invitation, only an unspoken warning.
Realising he had no choice, Edmund slowly got to his feet, his movements stiff and reluctant. The weight of his earlier defiance hung over him, and his head remained low as he shuffled toward the table like a scolded dog. Cassius's smirk deepened as he watched the man take a seat opposite him, his unease palpable.
"Good boy." Cassius murmured, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, let's enjoy this wonderful meal Isabelle has prepared for us."
His gaze briefly flicked to Isabelle, softening just enough to make her blush before returning to Edmund, his predatory smile still firmly in place.
The atmosphere in the room was tense, the unspoken power dynamics as clear as the feast laid out before them.
Isabelle, ever the diligent and composed woman, set about making two plates. She worked with precision, her hands moving deftly as she portioned out the meal.
Cassius's plate was clearly given extra attention, with the best cuts of meat and the finest presentation. Edmund's plate, though still well-made, received far less care—a quiet but deliberate decision on her part.
Once the plates were ready, she placed them before the two men. She started with Cassius, setting the dish in front of him with a small bow before moving to Edmund, whose head remained lowered in silence. She cleared her throat softly, drawing their attention as she stood by the table.
"I've prepared a variety of dishes today." She began, her tone slightly formal but carrying an undertone of nervousness. "For the main course, we have a spiced roasted lamb with a glaze made from honey and herbs. It's accompanied by buttered rice and sautéed vegetables seasoned with a touch of garlic and thyme...The soup is a creamy mushroom bisque, light yet rich. And for dessert..." She hesitated, her cheeks reddening as she glanced at Cassius. "It's a simple honey cake that I quickly made. I hope it pleases your palate, young master."
Isabelle thought Cassius would simply brush off her explanation, perhaps give a curt nod or ignore her entirely. That was what most nobles did, after all—dismiss the words of someone they considered beneath them.
But to her surprise, Cassius rested his chin on his hand, his eyes fixed on her with genuine interest.
He didn't touch his utensils. Instead, he asked, "How did you manage to balance the sweetness in the glaze with the spices?...Honey can be overpowering if used too generously."
Isabelle blinked, caught off guard. "Ah, I used just a hint of vinegar to cut through the sweetness, Young Master." She explained, her voice hesitant but growing steadier. "It balances the flavours without overwhelming the palate."
Cassius nodded thoughtfully, his gaze unwavering.
"And the buttered rice, what herbs did you use? I can smell parsley, but there's something else, isn't there?"
"Yes." She said, feeling an unexpected thrill at his attention. "I added a touch of dill. It complements the butter without being too bold."
He leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing with an almost teasing glint. "And the honey cake, is it dense or light? It looks fluffy, but appearances can be deceiving."
"It's light." Isabelle assured him quickly. "I whipped the egg whites separately before folding them into the batter...That helps create a soft, airy texture."
"Hmm." Cassius mused, glancing at the dishes as if contemplating each detail she described. "You've put a great deal of thought into this meal."
Isabelle found herself feeling embarrassed, unsure how to interpret his sudden interest. "I...I only wanted to do my best, Young Master. I thought it was the least I could do after—"
She stopped herself abruptly, her words trailing off as guilt flickered across her face.
Cassius smirked, tilting his head as if daring her to continue. When she didn't, he let the moment stretch before speaking again.
"Interesting. You seem skilled—not just in execution, but in understanding how to create harmony in a dish. I didn't expect this from someone who..." His eyes glinted mischievously. "Let's just say he has a history with poison."
The comment made Isabelle's heart skip a beat, and she glanced down, unable to meet his gaze. "I-I've always taken pride in my cooking." She murmured, her voice trembling slightly.
"Clearly." Cassius replied, his tone softer now, though his eyes still held their sharp edge. "It's impressive, Isabelle. You've done well."
She lifted her head, startled by the genuine compliment.
It was unexpected, coming from a man she had feared and wronged. For a moment, she forgot the tension in the room. Instead, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time—pride.
Meanwhile, Edmund sulked as he quietly ate his food, his pride wounded by the stark contrast in the way Cassius treated Isabelle compared to himself. Isabelle barely noticed his sullen presence, her attention entirely on Cassius, whose unexpected interest had shifted her perception of him entirely.