Chapter 202
Natasha was pleased.
The grand hall’s luxurious decorations, the heads of the most powerful noble families, and the lesser nobles who had dressed to the nines as if this were the only chance in their lifetime to attend such a place.
All of them would soon be beneath her.
“What a beautiful night, Your Highness.”
The tense air that had lingered lately between Natasha and Abelus had softened tonight. At her coquettish tone, Abelus nodded gravely.
“It’s fine.”
It wasn’t merely fine. It was splendid.
Most of all, Abelus himself looked splendid tonight as he courteously escorted her. Natasha gazed affectionately at the man who would soon be her fiancé. She had to make sure Megara saw this.
Though, soon enough, Megara would no longer be worth any concern.
A public escort at an official event was practically a declaration that their engagement was imminent. Natasha was, at this very moment, being announced before all as the future Crown Princess.
And once she became Crown Princess? Naturally, she would become Empress.
Giving Megara “medicine” at such a meaningful event was, for Natasha, her own form of humor. Wasn’t it amusing? That insolent half-blood who dared to climb above her station would learn the difference between them—and be utterly ruined tonight.
Inserting a member of the Grünehals household among the royal attendants had been easier than expected. Natasha even suspected that Camille might have known Megara’s true origins. After all, at such a formal event, a stranger among royal servants should have been questioned by any member of the royal family.
‘It’ll be even easier once I’m Crown Princess.’
When that day came, she would get rid of all those who annoyed her. The thought delighted her.
“You there, come here.”
She called to a passing attendant carrying a tray of drinks. The servant obeyed her haughty command.
Even the selection of drinks for tonight’s party had included Natasha’s input. On the tray, five or six different beverages shimmered in differently shaped glasses.
Natasha picked out the apple cider she liked and the cream wine that Abelus preferred. There were several kinds of wine, but only one glass of cider remained. She often felt unwell when she had grapes.
“Cheers, Your Highness.”
“Yes, Tashi.”
Abelus obediently took his glass. The two clinked their ornate cups and each took a drink.
After the toast, Natasha drank several sips, only to realize that what she was drinking wasn’t apple cider. The color was similar, and it was served in the flute glass meant for cider, but it was actually lemon juice.
She frowned.
“I must speak to the attendants, Your Highness. They’re serving drinks in the wrong glasses.”
“Really? I see. I’ll mention it.”
“It’ll lower the dignity of the party if this keeps up. I’ll call for the palace steward immediately.”
Natasha couldn’t tolerate an error at a banquet hosted by her future husband. At her insistence, the royal steward in charge of all palace attendants was summoned.
After scolding him at length, Natasha found herself thirsty and drank all the lemon juice she had been holding. She was about to ask Abelus for a dance when she suddenly felt unwell.
It was strange — a haze seemed to fall over her mind, and her stomach churned. Was she catching a cold from the changing weather?
To fall ill on such a perfect night felt absurd. As her condition worsened, she retreated to the lounge with her maid. She loosened her elaborate gown and reclined on the chaise when—
“Oh, my lady.”
Her maid gasped in alarm. Natasha scowled.
“What is it?”
“M-my lady! There’s blood on your dress!”
“What?”
Her period wasn’t due for some time. Now that she noticed, the fabric felt damp. Then came the pain — a wave of cramps and dizziness flooded her all at once.
It was horribly uncomfortable. Had the stress over Megara disrupted her cycle? How irritating. Natasha muttered under her breath, then froze.
She knew better than anyone what kind of effects the secret Grünehals family poison had.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a poison at all. It originated from an herbal extract used by women of the Grünehals Duchy who wished to end unwanted pregnancies or those unsafe to carry.
It had become poison the moment one of her ancestors decided to use it against others.
The Grünehals forebears had refined the extract further, adding components that amplified its potency. The result was a pale yellow liquid of terrifying effect.
One drop caused bleeding. Two, miscarriage. Three, permanent infertility.
There were many substances that could harm pregnant women, but the Grünehals concoction was unique — it achieved its intended effect without affecting the victim’s overall health. A little fatigue or a shifted cycle could easily be dismissed.
That lemon juice…! Natasha’s face went pale. (T/N: BAM! She got UNO Reversed!)
When she had handed the poison to the servant and ordered him to give it to Megara, she hadn’t specified the drink. Yet only a few drinks could conceal that yellowish tint.
“That wretched girl…!”
Grinding her teeth, Natasha snapped toward her maid.
“Call a doctor! Someone we can silence if necessary — hurry!”
❖ ❖ ❖
When would the effects appear?
Chatting casually with other noblewomen she knew well, Megara wondered.
‘Not that it’s my family’s formula, so how would I know?’
Perhaps it took several doses to take effect. She’d have to be careful with food for a while. But if this had all been a misunderstanding and Natasha had never poisoned her?
‘All the better. Drinking lemon juice instead of cider won’t kill me.’
Having known her since childhood, Megara knew Natasha couldn’t drink anything with grapes. So she had prepared a little trick.
She poured the poisoned lemon juice into the glass that had originally contained apple cider, then called over a random attendant carrying a tray. Arranging the drinks neatly, she removed all beverages without grapes and told the attendant, “Take this tray to my friends on the terrace, and walk there a few times.”
Of course, Megara had no “friends” she wanted to treat at another’s party. The attendant would likely meet no one or hand the drinks to some random guest.
By then, however, Natasha would have already drunk the poison. Megara had made sure the terrace nearest the Crown Prince’s couple was designated.
She wasn’t too worried about the wrong person getting caught. A viscount’s daughter’s order carried weight — no one of lower rank would dare touch that tray.
And if, by chance, someone else drank it… well, that was fate.
“Lady Marquess.”
The same attendant she had sent earlier approached and bowed apologetically.
“I’m sorry, my lady. I couldn’t carry out your order.”
Megara widened her eyes as if surprised.
“Oh? Why not?”
“I couldn’t find your friends on the terrace. My deepest apologies.”
That didn’t matter. It was natural. Megara glanced over the tray.
Two glasses were empty. Her lips curled in satisfaction.
“I see. Then you brought back the drinks?”
“I’m sorry, my lady, but His Highness the Crown Prince said he was thirsty…”
Perfect. Megara feigned mild annoyance but replied graciously.
“I understand. It can’t be helped. You may go. Well done.”
Few nobles thanked servants who failed their task. The attendant was moved. The rumors were true — Lady Megara Lykeandros was kind, almost angelic. A true noblewoman.
But just before the servant could leave, disaster struck.
“Move! Out of the way!”
Natasha Grünehals’s sharp voice approached. The hall fell silent, people frowning and whispering.
The social elite did not like Natasha — she was rude and quick-tempered. Though some elders called it “properly noble,” most did not.
Pushing through the crowd, Natasha stormed up to the startled attendant standing before Megara. Then, her face twisted with fury, she shrieked at Megara.
“What have you done! Are you insane!”
The onlookers gasped. Blood — someone whispered. Judging by the stains’ size and placement, Natasha looked like a woman who had bled through her gown at a party.
But could that proud girl allow that? Her maid would have been watching her every move.
“That’s my line, Sister Natasha,” Megara said smoothly, frowning slightly. Outwardly, she was composed, but inside she was exultant.
Judging by her rage and appearance, the poison acted instantly. It couldn’t have gone better.
“At a banquet hosted by His Highness, what uncultured behavior. Think of how uncomfortable this must be for everyone here. And what did I do, exactly? I was merely talking with my friends.”
And indeed, to those watching, Megara appeared entirely innocent. Were Natasha’s position not what it was, everyone would have sided with Megara.
Natasha, already enraged, trembled with fury so intense it made her head ache. She could barely form words.
“Y-you…!”
Beneath her gentle and courteous expression, Megara scorned her.
Hmph. Foolish woman. What could she possibly say in front of everyone?
That she had sent a poisoned drink meant for Megara, but Megara sent it back?
That she herself had drunk it and could no longer bear children?
Natasha could reveal none of that. Not if she wanted to marry Abelus — or any nobleman at all. Megara would make sure rumors about her health spread within days. Then it wouldn’t matter how tightly Natasha kept her secret.
Well, perhaps it was pitiful. Megara smirked inwardly. Still, it wasn’t as if Natasha’s life was over.
Child or no child, she was still a duchess’s daughter, and her younger brother Eustace adored her. Unlike those other women Natasha had poisoned before — poor, powerless girls pushed toward Abelus — who now had nothing left.
So Megara told herself she’d done something good. She had prevented the rise of a deranged Empress who would toy with her people’s wombs.
If that was the price, she could endure a slap or two. Even some petty revenge later. Megara knew her reputation in society — and when she took her place at Abelus’s side, Natasha would truly be nothing.
Just as Megara expected, Natasha’s face flushed red as she raised her hand and struck her.
Smack.
The sharp sound echoed through the quiet hall. Megara, even as she was hit, let a faint smile play on her lips.
“You filthy half-breed!” Natasha screamed. “A woman so vile she couldn’t even attend her parents’ funeral dares to look down on me!”