Chapter 115: Tampered Wine
Everyone rose to their feet as the door was thrown open.
The King and his entourage walked in before the guards closed the door behind them.
Redmare was yet to arrive.
They resud their seats when Yeren was well-seated.
Claire closed her mouth the mont she realized it was hanging open.
He looked different - his hair was done differently, and his black coat was styled with shimring gold buttons that enhanced the colour of his eyes.
And he didn’t glance in her direction. Not even once.
Claire moved to stand by his side, struggling not to gulp.
"Shall we begin?" Yeren asked the n before him, his eyes moving over each of their faces.
That’s when she saw Aldrich. He was wearing a pale blue attire with an impeccable cut. Their eyes t for a brief mont before he imdiately looked away. She almost forgot that she could not publicly identify with him.
It was the sa thing with Yeren, but for entirely different reasons.
The doors opened to admit Redmare.
He stood by the door and bowed to the King.
"Pardon my lateness, Your Grace."
Yeren nodded at him without bothering to look up from the letter before him.
Redmare’s lips thinned for a brief second but he covered it with a smile.
And she couldn’t help but notice.
His feet scuffed loudly against the polished marble floor as walked towards the table.
The blasted man took his seat in between Lord Plutte and Lord Falstaff.
"We have new reports from the West. More villages were invaded by rogues and it only seed to get worse after the blood moon. Three hundred and more were slain." Aldrich said, presenting a letter.
The letter was passed around until it reached Yeren.
Even then, he still hadn’t acknowledged her presence.
Wasn’t that what she wanted?
She gulped and looked ahead, at nothing in particular.
"Three hundred deaths? I need wine, who needs wine?" Redmare said, waving at her.
Claire didn’t move, casting a side glance at the man beside her.
He looked up at Redmare with a disinterested look before returning his attention to the report.
"Get us wine, woman. I will not tolerate any more insolence from a re servant."
Her hands cleared at her sides but she hid them in the folds of her dress.
A re servant.
The doors opened once more and Andon walked in. He was wearing all gray, his hair brushed back until it shone.
He smiled at her before dragging a seat to Yeren’s side and sliding into it.
Yeren looked up briefly, acknowledging him with a nod before glancing back at the parchnt in his hands.
Then, Yeren flicked his hand at her - like she was a ’re’ servant.
She stumbled back slightly, grasping the head of his high-backed chair to steady herself.
The crest on the wood bit into her fingers, prompting her to pull her hand away.
"Get us wine." His voice was cold, but not disrespectful.
Andon looked at her briefly, his eyes softening.
With a frustrated sigh, Yeren tossed the parchnt on the polished table.
"These Rogues aren’t taking our policies seriously. What are your suggestions?"
Andon huffed and puffed like a little child, his arms folded across his chest.
Claire quietly moved to the table at the corner of the room and picked up a pitcher. There were two pitchers, one fancy, the other one regular.
The fancy one belonged to the King obviously.
As she was about to pour wine into his goblet, she rembered the maid that had left.
There was no way to know if the wine had been tampered with.
"What’s keeping you?" Yeren asked.
She imdiately poured the wine into his goblet and brought it to him. She poured from the sa pitcher for the rest of them and brought their drinks to the table.
After serving each of them, she served the King.
Yeren picked up his goblet and held it for a while.
Only Aldrich picked up his drink, the others were engaged in conversation.
Plutte stretched out his hand and his goblet tipped over, spilling across the table.
To even a keen observer, it appeared as a normal mistake.
But Claire watched him closely, then glanced at the others.
Redmare’s eyes were wider than normal, his grin gone. Falstaff kept staring at the spilled liquid on the table.
"Get a maid, or better yet, clean it yourself." Redmare said to her.
Andon shifted in his seat. "You shouldn’t talk to her-"
Yeren stopped him with a glance.
Claire gulped.
She grabbed a rag from the table and moved to clean it.
Redmare’s hand caressed her backside as she cleaned it.
"Good girl." He said.
She went rigid. Yeren and Andon weren’t even glancing in her direction, and Falstaff and Plutte had no intention of helping her from the smug looks in their faces.
Drawing in a deep, angry breath, she swatted his hand away.
That’s when Yeren looked up, but not at her.
Then, he picked up his goblet and made to take a swing from it.
She couldn’t let him take that drink. The feeling that it had been tampered with couldn’t be shaken off.
She moved as fast as she could and snatched the goblet out of his hand.
"What are you doing-"
"I have reason to believe it has been poisoned, Your Grace."
Andon took the goblet from her and sniffed it.
"I don’t sll anything."
Claire ran a hand through her hair.
"No one would use poison that could easily be detected."
"Are you claiming that there is an attack on the King’s life?"
Claire pinned them with her gaze.
"Yes. If there isn’t, I urge you to have a taste of your drinks."
"How do we know that you’re not the one who spiked it?"
"But that would not explain your hesitation to drink it, would it?"
Falstaff rose from the table, slamming his palms into the surface.
"Enough of this slander!"
Yeren didn’t even spare him a glance. His gaze was fixed on the goblet in front of him.
"There is only one solution to this problem."
Redmare stood up as well. "This is not a ’problem’, Your Grace. It is intolerable for a servant to accuse n of our calibre of treason."
"Let
speak."
All of them fell silent.
"The verdict would be decided based on what happens after all of you drink it." Then he added, "Including you, Miss Stenly."
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