"You questioned the maid, right? The one who served the drink."
Evelina frowned. "Yeah, and she swears she never poured it herself."
"Which ans...
"Soone else did."
Jasper nodded. "But here’s where it gets complicated—the wine bottle from which it was served? Missing."
Evelina’s fingers tightened slightly. That was a problem. "That bottle is the biggest piece of evidence we need."
"Yeah." Jasper exhaled, shaking his head. "Which makes wonder—do you think the person behind the well poisoning is the sa one who tried to poison the prince? Considering similar poison was used."
Evelina went silent for a mont. She wanted to say yes, as it would simplify things if everything were tied into one clean conspiracy.
But sothing in her gut said otherwise.
"Honestly?" she murmured. "I don’t know."
Jasper raised a brow. "Well, that’s not exactly reassuring."
Evelina sighed. "Think about it. If soone was trying to fra , they could have done it with the well poisoning alone. But trying to kill the prince? That’s different. That’s not just treason—that’s regicide."
Jasper’s eyes darkened slightly. "Yeah... you don’t try to take out a crown prince unless you’re aiming for sothing bigger."
Evelina nodded. "Which ans we could be dealing with two different people... or one person orchestrating two different plans as I was frad for both."
Jasper rubbed the back of his neck. "So what are our options?"
Evelina exhaled, thinking through their next steps. "If we can find that missing wine bottle, I can try to use it to—" She stopped herself before finishing the sentence.
Jasper gave her a curious look. "Use it to...?"
Evelina hesitated.
She had only ntioned her unusual ability to Damian, not Jasper. She knew she could trust him but didn’t want to say it to him just yet.
Finally, she just said, "Let’s just say I might be able to find out who poured the drink."
Jasper studied her for a second before shrugging. "I wonder how you want to try and achieve that, but I won’t ask."
She appreciated that.
"But," Jasper continued, "what if we don’t find the bottle?"
Evelina pursed her lips. "Then our next best option is to question Matthew."
Jasper snorted. "I have a feeling he won’t be in a talking mood."
Evelina gave a small, sharp smile. "Then we’ll just have to change that."
Jasper smirked, pushing his chair back. "Well then, my lady. Shall we go have a chat with our favourite traitor?"
Because if Matthew was covering for soone—
It was ti to make him talk.
***********
The dungeons of the palace were as cold and damp as Evelina rembered. The scent of mildew and old blood clung to the stone walls, and the flickering torches barely provided enough light to chase away the heavy shadows.
This was the 2nd ti in less than 24 hours she was coming down here.
Jasper walked beside her, hands casually tucked into his pockets, but his usual smirk was missing. He knew this wasn’t a social visit.
"You think he’ll talk?" Jasper asked as they descended the final set of steps.
"He’ll have to," Evelina murmured. "If we push the right buttons."
They reached the heavy, iron-barred door that led to the main holding cells. The guards stationed outside stiffened at their approach but stepped aside when they recognised them.
Evelina took a slow breath, steeling herself before stepping inside.
Lord Matthew sat in the centre of the dimly lit cell, his wrists shackled to the chair, his once-pristine noble attire dishevelled and dirt-stained. His face was calm—too calm for a man who had just lost everything.
His gaze flickered up when he saw them enter, and a slow smirk curled his lips.
"Well," he drawled in a hoarse voice which was still dripping with arrogance. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Jasper leaned against the bars, tilting his head. "Oh, you know. Just checking in. Seeing how you’re settling into... you know...."
Matthew exhaled through his nose, turning his attention to Evelina. "And you, my lady? Here to gloat?"
Evelina stepped closer. "I’m here for answers."
Matthew humd, leaning back as much as his restraints allowed. "I’ve already given you one confession today. I think that’s enough for now."
Evelina narrowed her eyes. "We both know you’re lying."
Matthew’s smirk didn’t falter. "And yet, here I am, still the one in chains."
Jasper sighed dramatically. "You know, I really hoped this would be easier. But I guess so people just enjoy making life difficult."
Evelina ignored him, keeping her gaze locked on Matthew. "Who are you protecting?"
Matthew didn’t react right away. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Wouldn’t you like to know?"
Evelina clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin. "The well poisoning and the attempt on the prince’s life—are they connected?"
Matthew’s expression didn’t change. "You tell ."
Before Evelina could respond, another voice did from behind. "I’d rather hear it from you."
Evelina turned just as the guards straightened.
Damian.
He entered the room, his silver eyes cold and difficult to read. Just his presence seed to suck the air out of the room, making it feel smaller and more cramped.
Matthew’s smirk faltered just slightly.
Damian ca to a stop beside Evelina, crossing his arms over his chest. "Since you’re already confessing to cris today, Matthew, why don’t you tell the truth?"
Matthew let out a slow breath, schooling his expression. "Your Highness," he said smoothly. "You wound . I have told you the truth."
Damian’s gaze darkened. "No. You told us what you wanted us to believe."
A heavy silence filled the space between them.
Then Damian stepped forward, lowering his voice. "You orchestrated the well poisoning. But the attempt on my life—that wasn’t you, was it?"
Evelina caught the subtle shift in Matthew’s deanour. It was barely noticeable—the slightest flicker of sothing in his eyes.
A hesitation.
Damian noticed it too.
"Who are you protecting?" he asked again.
Matthew exhaled slowly, his fingers curling against the arms of the chair. "Even if I told you..." His gaze flickered toward Evelina. "Would you really believe ?"
Jasper huffed. "Not with that attitude, no."
Evelina ignored him, watching Matthew carefully. "Try us."
Matthew studied her for a long mont. Then, finally, his smirk returned—though this ti, it was thinner, more forced.
"Let’s make a deal."
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