Poison for the Crown
The moment the word "crown" surfaced in my mind, everyone in the training grounds turned to look at Rhea Silverrian. The Third Princess of the Empire. Though her place in the line of succession was not high, she undeniably carried imperial blood. The implication behind that word was unmistakable.
Rhea did not waver—at least not outwardly. She gazed down at the smoldering black feather and spoke. “How blunt.”
Her voice remained perfectly calm. Yet I caught the briefest hesitation in her fingertips. Rhea Silverrian was not one to display emotion on her face. Instead, her mana, her fingers, and fleeting silences spoke for her.
Noel shrugged. “The Black Moon has always enjoyed a bit of theatrics.”
Siella picked up her sword once more. This time, the way she gripped it felt different—not tighter, but steadier. Her movements were so composed that it was hard to believe she had dropped the blade only moments ago. Still, that composure was not absolute. As she slid the sword into its scabbard, her eyes flicked briefly toward my wrist—the same spot where I had grabbed her earlier.
“If they are targeting Her Highness, the next location would be the Imperial Pavilion, correct?”
Rhea shook her head. “It will not be that simple.”
I agreed. The Black Moon was not merely trying to kill people. They sought to sever bonds. They had exploited Aria’s sense of responsibility and Siella’s attachment to her sword. So what would they use against Rhea?
Her authority as a princess. Or perhaps her isolation. In the original story, Rhea was someone who trusted no one easily. She had learned to hide her emotions and treat trust like a transaction just to survive in the palace. The process of her opening up to the protagonist had been one of the core romance events early in the novel.
If the Black Moon was targeting her, they were far more likely to make her doubt others than to attempt a straightforward assassination.
Just then, an imperial knight came running toward us. “Your Highness!”
“Report.”
“Poison was detected in the tea and refreshments delivered to the Imperial Pavilion.”
The air froze. Rhea’s expression did not change. “Casualties?”
“One of the maids collapsed during the tasting process. Her life is not in danger, but she has lost consciousness.”
“What kind of poison?”
“It reacts to freezing mana.”
Rhea’s fingertips stopped moving. Freezing mana. That meant the poison had been crafted specifically for her. Not merely aimed at royalty, but a cursed toxin designed to target Rhea Silverrian’s personal mana affinity—her ice-attribute bloodline magic.
An attack that accounted for the Pavilion’s defensive barriers, the tasting protocols, and the verification procedures of the imperial maids. Such precision would have been impossible without inside information from the palace. Rhea knew this as well as anyone.
Aria spoke up. “I will go treat her.”
Rhea stopped her immediately. “You will not.”
“Your Highness.”
“A saintess candidate has already been cursed, and Sword-style Contamination has appeared in the Knight Department. Now the Imperial Pavilion has been struck. The moment you move, another trap will likely activate.”
“But someone has collapsed.”
“The imperial physicians are present.”
“Holy arts would be faster.”
Rhea’s eyes grew cold. “That is an order. Do not move.”
Aria’s face hardened. Tension crackled between them once more. Aria could never stand by while someone was hurt. Rhea had to maintain control over every risk. Neither of them was wrong, which only made the clash sharper.
I spoke quickly. “We can go together.”
Rhea looked at me. “You, least of all, should come.”
“Why not?”
“This time, the target is me.”
“So you intend to go alone?”
“I have imperial knights.”
“If the Black Moon is aiming for Your Highness’s isolation, that would be the most dangerous choice.”
Rhea’s gaze trembled, ever so slightly. Noel muttered under his breath. “Ooh, direct hit.”
I continued. “It was the same with Lady Aria and Lady Siella. They used responsibility, obsession, and the desire to protect—each person’s weakness. For Your Highness, they will likely try to force you to judge and endure everything alone.”
Rhea said nothing.
“So let us go together.”
“Kyle.” Her voice was low. “Do you think I cannot handle this by myself?”
“No. I believe you could manage it alone. But that does not mean doing so is the right answer.”
Rhea stared at me for a long time. Those cold blue eyes held a fleeting trace of exhaustion—the weariness of someone who had spent her life doubting, deciding, and commanding. “Impudent words.”
“I apologize.”
“But not incorrect.”
She turned. “Everyone moves to the Imperial Pavilion. I will remain in command.”
Siella spoke. “If combat occurs, I will take the front.”
Aria added, “If there are injured, I will see to them.”
Noel smiled. “I’ll look for anything suspicious from the back.”
Rhea let out a short sigh. “Do as you please.”
The Imperial Pavilion stood as an independent building on the northern side of the academy. Fitting for a residence used by imperial family members, foreign envoys, and high-ranking nobles, it was layered with defensive magic. White pillars engraved with the imperial crest marked the main gate, and faint golden detection arrays hovered near every window.
Normally, outsiders would undergo three separate identity verifications before even crossing the threshold. Even students were no exception. Though located within the academy, the Pavilion functioned as a miniature palace.
Yet that defensive net had been breached. That fact alone revealed how dangerous the Black Moon’s infiltration capabilities truly were.
When we arrived at the reception room, the collapsed maid had been laid upon a sofa. Her lips had turned blue, and frost clung to her fingertips. A shattered teacup and a silver tasting spoon lay nearby.
Rhea maintained her expression as she took in the scene, but her fingers trembled ever so slightly.
“A freezing-reactive poison,” Noel observed after examining the area around the maid. “More curse than simple toxin. Once it came into contact with Lady Rhea’s ice mana, it would have begun freezing near the heart.”
“Would it have been fatal?”
“Likely.”
The imperial knights’ faces grew grim. Aria moved to treat the maid, and this time I did not stop her. Noel checked first. “No holy-arts reaction trap. It’s safe to proceed.”
Aria’s holy arts enveloped the maid. A blue glow gradually melted away the frost. The maid’s trembling fingers slowly relaxed, and a faint color returned to her lips.
Rhea watched in silence. “That tea was meant for me.” Her voice was steady. “The maid only tasted it first to confirm it was safe.”
In the palace, such procedures were routine. Every dish and drink intended for royalty had to be verified. Any poison that failed to bypass those checks was, by definition, a failed assassination attempt.
Yet Rhea could not accept it as failure. Someone else had drunk the poison meant for her. Even for someone accustomed to her station, that truth carried weight.
I stood beside her. “It is not Your Highness’s fault.”
“You said something similar to the saintess candidate.”
“The situations are alike.”
“So it is not my responsibility?”
“The ones who poisoned the tea bear that responsibility.”
Rhea looked at me. “How simple.”
“Sometimes simple is correct.”
The corner of her mouth moved, the faintest hint of something that might have been a smile.
At that moment, a crack appeared in one of the teacups on the table. Black smoke began to rise from within.
Noel shouted, “Get back!”
The smoke took on a human shape—a younger version of Rhea. Or rather, a vision of her past. A small silver-haired girl stood alone in a dark palace chamber while faceless nobles whispered around her.
— The Third Princess is useless.
— Her ice mana is beautiful, but insufficient for the throne.
— Trust no one. If you do not cast them aside first, you will be the one discarded.
Rhea’s face hardened. The Black Moon had not tried to kill her body with poison. They had aimed for her memories.
The child in the vision looked at us and spoke. “If you hold out your hand, you become weak.”
The entire reception room began to freeze. Rhea’s mana wavered. Frost spread across the floor, and the edges of the curtains turned to ice. Aria deployed a defensive holy art while Siella drew her sword. Noel attempted to analyze the center of the smoke, but the vision was directly linked to Rhea’s mana. Forcibly severing it from outside would injure her. We all sensed it.
I approached Rhea. “Your Highness.”
“Do not come closer.”
“Your Highness.”
“That is an order. Stay back.”
Her voice was cold, yet fear lurked beneath it. I did not stop. Ice crept up my ankles—cold, painful—but I took another step forward.
“Kyle!” Aria cried.
I stood before Rhea. “Holding out your hand does not make you weak.”
Rhea’s eyes turned to me. “Again with those words.”
“They remain true.”
I extended my hand. “If standing alone is strength, then standing together is greater strength.”
Rhea looked at my hand for a long moment. She did not move. During that brief silence, the room grew colder still. Ice flowers bloomed around her, and the child in the vision whispered once more.
— Do not take it.
— Do not trust.
— Cast them aside first.
Rhea’s gaze wavered. I kept my hand outstretched. “Your Highness does not have to be the one to take it,” I said quietly. “I will keep holding it out.”
At those words, something shifted in her eyes—not anger, not confusion, but the expression of someone hearing something they had long forgotten. Slowly, she reached out. Cold fingertips brushed against my palm.
In that instant, the spreading ice halted. The child in the vision looked at us, then scattered into nothing. The black smoke vanished.
Noel spoke in a low voice. “Third attempt to sever a bond—failed.”
Rhea did not release my hand. Instead, she spoke in a quiet voice. “Kyle Diaren.”
“Yes.”
“You are the one who reached out first.”
“Pardon?”
“Do not forget that.”
At her words, Aria’s gaze quietly lowered, and Siella’s hand paused atop her sword hilt. Noel covered his mouth, hiding a smile.
I realized then that the Black Moon had tried to sever our bonds. Instead, those bonds had only grown more tangled—and that tangle was no longer mere favor or curiosity. It was becoming something that passed through each of our deepest wounds.