Poisoned Tea
835 Words
Chapter Eleven
Camila was, for once, at peace.
Since Elisha’s soul had entered the fragile body of Camila Everhart, this was the first week she had allowed herself to simply exist — no schemes, no blood, no calculating revenge. Just quiet mornings, warm sunlight, and the soft presence of Cortis nearby.
But even she knew one truth far too well.
There is always calm before the storm.
The morning was serene. Birds sang softly beyond her balcony, petals swayed lazily in the breeze, and the world seemed almostgentle. Camila sat at her small table when a maid arrived, placing a tray of tea and delicate desserts before her.
Just as the girl bowed, Camila’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Halt.”
The maid stiffened. At the same moment, Cortis — who had been tidying nearby — noticed the subtle movement of the maid’s fingers as she adjusted the teacup far too carefully. His eyes widened, and he rushed forward.
“My lady—!”
Before he could finish, the head maid appeared and roughly yanked him away, dragging him to the corner with a sharphiss. Camila’s gaze darkened instantly.
Slowly, with calculated grace, she lifted the teacup and swirled the liquid as if admiring its colour.
“Drink it,” she said calmly to the maid.
The girl scoffed. “How rude and bitter you are, Lady Camila. You truly are unfit to be called a noble.”
A faint smile curved Camila’s lips.
Her next movement was swift.
Her foot slammed into the maid’s stomach, sending the girl flying across the room where she crashed painfully against a pillar. Gasps echoed from the nearby servants.
“Who sent you?” Camila asked coolly.
The maid spat in defiance. “You’re nothing but a waste of noble blood.”
In an instant, Camila crossed the distance and seized the maid’s chin, her fingers digging violently into flesh. Her eyes gleamed with lethal promise.
“Answer me,” she whispered, lifting the poisoned cup, “or I will make you drink every last drop.”
Fear finally shattered the maid’s arrogance. Her lips trembled.
“It — it was the head maid! She said Lady Lyanna would reward us!”
Camila chuckled softly — a sound devoid of warmth.
“Good.”
Without hesitation, she forced the tea into the girl’s mouth. The maid choked and gagged, clawing uselessly, her face flushing purple as the poison burned down her throat. Camila released her, letting her collapse into violent coughing fits.
Then she turned.
The air around her shifted, heavy and suffocating with murderous intent.
She went in search of the head maid.
Fate led her swiftly.
In the rear courtyard, she found the woman standing over Cortis, striking his small frame with a wooden stick as he tried desperately to shield himself.
“You useless street rat!” The woman spat. “Know your place!”
Something inside Camila snapped.
Her rage exploded.
She moved faster than sight, grabbing the head maid by the hair and slamming her head viciously into the stone wall. Blood splattered. The woman screamed.
Camila dropped to her knees beside Cortis, hands trembling now with restrained fury as she inspected him.
“Are you hurt?” she asked softly, brushing his bruised cheek.He shook his head, though his eyes shone with tears. “I’m alright, my lady…”
Assured he was ok, Camila rose slowly.
Her gaze returned to the head maid — eyes now blazing with cold, merciless fire.
“Whatever happens to you now,” Camila said quietly, lifting her again, “blame Lyanna.”
She slammed the woman’s skull into the ground with brutal force. Once. Twice. Until consciousness abandoned her trembling body.
“This foolish girl seeks an early grave,” Camila muttered, breathing hard.
After ensuring the woman was unconscious, she ordered guards to bind her and had her escorted to Duke Adrian Blackwell — a man said to be feared even among nobles.
Along with the broken maid, she sent a sealed letter.
To Duke Adrian Blackwell,
I accept your proposal. I will become your wife.
In return, I require your assistance in dragging the Everhart family before the royal court.
Consider this the first gesture of our alliance.
— Camila Everhart
When Duke Adrian received the message, his lips curled into a rare, genuine smile.“She agreed…” he murmured, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
His gaze drifted to the restrained, bloody head maid brought before him.
Was this the same delicate noble lady society mocked for being weak?
A slow chuckle escaped him.
“It seems,” he mused, “my future bride is far more interesting than I imagined.”
Unaware that the devil he was about to marry watched the world with eyes forged by death and rebirth, Duke Adrian simply leaned back in his chair — pleased, intrigued… and blissfully ignorant
For the storm had not yet arrived.But it was preparing to swallow everyone whole.
- Writer
