Chapter 69: Tea with Poisoned Thorns

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The next morning, Verbena sat in front of the mirror, allowing the maids to weave her hair into an elegant braided crown. But no amount of beauty could mask the storm brewing in her chest.

The invitation from the Empress sat on her vanity, staring at her like an ominous omen.

The Empress had no reason to summon her. At least, not for anything good.

"She's testing you." Theodore's voice came from behind, his tone clipped as he adjusted his cufflinks. "The palace rarely moves without purpose."

Verbena met his gaze in the mirror. "And what exactly does the Empress want to test?"

Theodore stepped closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. His fingers massaged gently, a rare moment of tenderness. "Your identity, your loyalty — everything. If even one crack shows, they'll rip you apart."

Despite the warning, a slow smile curled on Verbena's lips. "Then I'll make sure they see exactly what I want them to see."

Theodore's grip tightened, a mix of pride and fear flickering in his eyes. "That's my duchess."

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The palace garden was breathtaking — a sea of white roses surrounding the gilded pavilion where the Empress waited. Verbena descended from the carriage with grace, her silk gown flowing like liquid silver.

The nobles already gathered lowered their heads in greeting, but their eyes were sharp, hungry for any weakness she might show.

They're all vultures, waiting for me to bleed.

The Empress sat at the head of the table, her smile painted on like a mask. "Duchess Hellgrave, how lovely of you to join us."

Verbena curtsied deeply. "It is my greatest honor, Your Majesty."

The Empress gestured to the seat directly across from her. Not beside her — but in front, like a suspect being questioned.

As Verbena took her seat, a maid poured her tea. The smell was faintly floral… but something about it made her stomach churn.

Poison? No — too obvious. But a subtle test? A drug to loosen my tongue? That's more likely.

Verbena lifted the cup, smiling sweetly, and took a careful sip. Her lips curved even wider as she set it down untouched. "Delightful."

The Empress's brow arched. "You must tell me how you maintain such beauty despite the stress of managing the Hellgrave estate. I've heard… challenging rumors."

Ah. There it was — the bait.

Verbena tilted her head, feigning innocent confusion. "Rumors, Your Majesty?"

The Empress's smile sharpened. "They say the Duchess returned from death a different woman entirely. Even her voice is not the same."

The garden fell silent, every ear tuned to their exchange.

Verbena chuckled softly. "What a thrilling tale! If I had truly returned from the dead, I would have demanded a crown myself."

Laughter rippled around the table, but the Empress's gaze didn't waver.

"Still," Verbena added, her eyes glinting like sharpened steel, "it's only natural for a woman to change after marriage. Especially when married to a man as… consuming as Duke Hellgrave."

The Empress blinked, caught off guard by the daring remark. Verbena seized the moment, leaning forward slightly, her smile wicked.

"He is quite demanding — in every way."

A few noble ladies turned red, some fanning themselves.

If they want a scandalous duchess, I'll give them one. But only on my terms.

The Empress's lips pressed into a thin line. "I see. Then perhaps we should toast to your… passionate marriage."

Verbena raised her cup. "To passion. And power."

Their eyes locked as they drank, and in that moment, Verbena knew — this was war.

---

Back at the estate, Theodore paced the study like a restless beast. His instincts screamed that something was wrong, even though Verbena's letter had arrived earlier saying all went well.

He wasn't fooled.

A knock sounded. The butler entered, bowing low. "My Lord, a guest has arrived. He refuses to state his name but insists it's urgent."

Theodore's brows furrowed. "Send him in."

The door opened — and a man in dark assassin's garb stepped in. A mask covered his lower face, but his eyes… they were familiar.

Theodore's hand was already on his sword. "Who sent you?"

The assassin knelt, head bowed. "This is not an attack, Your Grace. It's a warning."

"Speak."

"There is a contract on the Duchess's life. Issued by someone inside the palace."

Theodore's blood ran cold. "Who?"

"I cannot say. But if she attends another royal gathering, she won't leave alive."

Before Theodore could demand more, the assassin vanished like smoke.

Theodore's fist slammed against the desk. They dared to target his wife? His Verbena?

When Verbena returned that evening, Theodore was waiting at the door. His expression was darker than she'd ever seen, but before she could ask, he pulled her into a bruising kiss — raw and desperate.

She melted against him, his hands tangling in her hair, his body pressing her into the door. When they finally broke apart, her breath was ragged.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"You are never attending another palace event alone," he growled. "They put a price on your life."

Her heart skipped, but fear couldn't bloom — not when he held her like this.

"I'm not afraid," she said softly.

"You should be." His thumb traced her lower lip, his voice dark with promise. "Because I will burn that palace to the ground if they touch you."

Verbena smiled, looping her arms around his neck. "That's my husband."

The kiss that followed was not gentle — it was war.

To be continued.

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