Corwin was firm in his refusal.

  "The last visit to the palace was by royal decree. She’s just a concubine—she shouldn’t be going to court."

  "Autumn isn’t truly a concubine," Arianne argued, gripping my hand tightly. "She only has the title, not the role."

  Corwin pressed a hand to his temple, sighing in resignation. Finally, he relented, though his weariness was clear.

  Arianne and Corwin sat side by side in the carriage.

  Arianne chatted freely, her demeanor warm and relaxed. Corwin responded patiently, careful not to seem distant.

  I sat by the door, a respectful distance away, watching the reins sway in rhythm. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

  The jolt of the carriage stopping woke me just as we arrived at the palace gates.

  Corwin passed me on his way out of the carriage, pausing briefly to glance at me before stepping down. Then, with a flick of his hand, he gestured toward me.

  Startled, I turned instinctively to Arianne.

  She had already pulled out a small powder compact, dabbing at my forehead.

  "A red mark," she observed with a gentle laugh. "Perhaps you’ve been bored at the estate, and it’s affecting your sleep?"

  "It’s not that," I replied softly. "It’s just… too much on my mind."

  August had brought an early chill to the palace, and Consort Thorne had already lit the hearth in her chambers.

  She sat on a cushioned chair, her pale hands clutching a brazier, her lap covered with a soft blanket. She seemed to feel the cold more deeply than anyone else.

  While Corwin and Arianne spoke with her, I stood quietly behind them, observing.

  In my mind’s eye, I saw her lying motionless on a bed, her face ashen. Her hands were folded over her stomach, and dark blood trickled slowly from the corners of her mouth, staining her neck.

  Suddenly, she opened her eyes and looked directly at me.

  "Are you from the Myles family?"

  Startled, I dropped to my knees.

  Corwin glanced back at me, raising his hand in a calm gesture, signaling me to stand.

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  "Cousin," he said gently, "she is the concubine granted to me by His Majesty."

  Consort Thorne paid no attention. Pulling her blanket tighter, she accepted a newly stoked brazier and sighed softly.

  "A seer, then? I once met your younger sister. Quite beautiful. She’s the general’s wife now… such a shame for Elias."

  I stood still, silent.

  If my mother were alive, she and Consort Thorne would be the same age.

  "Your Grace," I said carefully, "I’m not only skilled in reading fates but also in medicine. Your pale complexion and aversion to cold suggest you’ve been poisoned."

  The sound of the brazier falling shattered the air.

  It hit the ground, breaking into pieces.

  Corwin quickly ushered us out of the palace, returning us to the estate.

  Two weeks later, the entire palace was in uproar.

  Consort Thorne had been found to have been poisoned with a rare toxin called Snow Lotus Extract. While it wasn’t fatal, it severely weakened the body and rendered the victim incapable of bearing children. Worse, it was contagious to those who shared a bed with the victim.

  The king was so enraged he fell ill, summoning the royal physicians and ordering an immediate investigation.

  A month later, the culprit was revealed: the late empress, the Crown Prince’s mother. The poison had been administered over a decade ago, causing Consort Thorne’s only child to be stillborn.

  Rumors spread like wildfire throughout the court and palace. Some speculated that the king’s inability to father more children in recent years was also due to the poison.

  I thought that with such revelations, Consort Thorne might avoid her predicted fate.

  But three days later, she took her own life with poison. In her farewell letter, she confessed to having harmed the king’s health and expressed deep guilt.

  When the news of her death reached us, the palace attendants brought a rare jade lock—a gift Consort Thorne had commissioned long ago for her daughter’s first birthday.

  Dressed in mourning clothes, Corwin stepped past me and knelt before her memorial.

  I, too, wore mourning attire, kneeling silently beside him.

  He slowly fed paper offerings into the brazier, the flickering flames casting a red glow across his face.

  "You knew, didn’t you?" he asked, his voice low.

  I said nothing.

  "I thought she would die from the poison," I said finally, "not by her own hand."

  "You should have kept it to yourself," Corwin snapped, his voice rising. "If you hadn’t said anything, she might not have died so soon!"

  He stood abruptly, hurling the paper offerings at me. The sharp edges cut my face, leaving a stinging warmth on my skin.

  I looked up, meeting his furious gaze head-on. He had dared to raise a hand against me.

  The guests paying their respects turned to watch the scene unfold.

  Arianne stepped forward, pushing the onlookers aside. She pulled me into her arms, shielding my face with her wide sleeve as she led me to an inner room.

  "His temper has always been like this," she said as she applied ointment to my cuts. "Consort Thorne’s death has placed him under heavy scrutiny. He doesn’t want to be dragged into court factions."

  "If that’s the case, he should resign," I replied coldly.

  Arianne stifled a laugh, quickly covering her mouth in respect for the mourning period.

  "Don’t take it to heart," she said. "What wife would argue right and wrong with her husband?"

  I pushed her hand away, my voice steady.

  "He’s your husband, not mine."

  Arianne smiled faintly, placing the ointment in my hand.

  "Is that so? And what about Elias? Would he raise a hand against you?"

  "He wouldn’t," I answered without hesitation.

  Arianne urged me to rest, insisting I skip the remainder of the mourning rites.