The Cursed Princess

Chapter 8 You're Poisoned

"Viscount Owen, it seems your wife and daughter don't quite share your view," Exeter remarked, crossing one leg over the other as he eyed Owen with a faint smirk.

Owen glanced at me, his face masked in a gentle smile, but his eyes were dark and calculating.

He looked like a snake lurking in the tundra, coiled and ready to strike with deadly venom at the perfect moment. The prey's demise would be his ultimate prize.

"Anne is just spirited; she enjoys a bit of fun," he said, feigning amusement. "Girls will be girls, always squabbling over rooms, clothes, and jewelry. It's just their way."

He accepted a pair of shoes from Andrew and kneeled, sliding them onto my feet with an exaggerated tenderness.

"What were you thinking, walking around barefoot in this cold weather? You're still ill—do you want to be bedridden for another month?"

His tone was as if he were a caring uncle, but I knew better.

My bare feet, covered in scratches, contrasted starkly against the pristine leather of the new shoes he forced on me.

However, he ignored the shards of porcelain that had embedded themselves in my shoes.

Pain shot through me as my wounded foot pressed against the unyielding sole, blood seeping into the shoe.

Oblivious, Owen gave a self-satisfied smile.

"These are the latest from the capital; Alyssa doesn't even have a pair. You're my favorite niece, after all."

Exeter glanced down, issuing a derisive chuckle. "Latest from the capital? Funny, I don't recall ever seeing them."

Owen's face tightened, the young duke's repeated barbs having frayed his composure.

"Have I somehow offended you, Your Grace? Surely, your words wound me deeply."

Exeter simply gestured to Thomas, who leaned in to listen, then straightened with a wry smile.

"You remind His Grace of a distant uncle in the countryside..."

Before Thomas could finish, Owen interrupted hastily, "To be considered family to His Grace is a great honor..."

His response was in such a hurry that Thomas only finished his sentence a few seconds later. "...an uncle he longs to kill."

Owen's face froze, his smile now stiff and strained, anger pooling beneath his polite facade like the unmelted frost.

Abruptly, I took off the blood-stained shoes and threw them at Owen's feet.

"Uncle, I think I'd prefer my own shoes." I paused, offering a meaningful smile. "They fit better, after all."

At my pointed smile, Owen's patience snapped. He grabbed a plate from the table and hurled it at Isabella. "Look what you've done!"

I remained smiling. Owen was always bad-tempered whenever things went out of his control.

Isabella recoiled, stunned. "Why the tantrum? Teal is a witch; it was only right to get rid of her!"

Owen's expression darkened, his voice low and tense. "There are no witches here, darling. She's just a girl gathering herbs. If you're feeling idle, perhaps you should focus on teaching our daughters proper etiquette before they bring shame to our family."

Isabella opened her mouth to argue, but a warning glare from Owen silenced her.

Owen turned back to Exeter, gesturing toward Alyssa. "Your Grace, you haven't yet seen our greenhouse, right? Alyssa, why don't you show him around? Didn't you breed a new type of rose you were hoping someone would admire?"

Exeter sipped his coffee, his eyes flashing with a faint, unreadable amusement.

"Oh? A rose I've yet to see? Thomas, let's go have a look."

Alyssa's face bloomed with excitement, her eyes brimming with barely restrained glee.

I felt weak, the last remnants of strength I'd used to protect Teal finally draining away.

Relief washed over me as I heard Owen give his verdict, and I allowed myself to collapse backward.

The familiar scent of Teal's comforting presence reached me, and I could finally relax. What a silly girl she was.

"Your Highness, please, stay with me!" Teal's voice cracked with worry. "You're burning up, please, please wake up..."

My consciousness drifted in and out, Teal's voice sounding faint as if from behind a thick pane of glass.

Please, someone fetch a doctor. She's been feverish since last night. If this continues, it will ruin her health."

Despite Josephine's mocking insults and Isabella's sharp words, Owen knew that if he intended to push Alyssa toward Exeter, he couldn't let his family's reputation be further sullied.

Within moments, Owen made the sensible choice.

"Andrew, call for Dr. Sergey."

Relieved, I slipped into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I was staring up at the familiar ceiling, the stars faintly visible through the gaps in the wooden boards.

"Your Highness, you're awake!" Teal's voice brought me back to full awareness.

I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt limp and unresponsive.

Noticing my struggle, Teal supported me gently, propping me up against a plush new pillow.

The pillow was so soft, and the blanket over my body was also thick and brand new.

Looking around, I noticed that the broken cups had been replaced with new porcelain, and the rickety chair that had confined Thomas was gone, swapped for a sturdier dining chair.

Even my wooden boards had been replaced by a simple single bed. For once, my stingy uncle had actually gone out of his way to provide something decent.

A man in a gray robe emerged from behind a newly installed wardrobe, holding a steaming clay bowl in his hands.

"Your Highness," he announced in a grave tone, "you are not ill; you have been poisoned."