Rhea
Callum's voice rings bells within my head.
“Poison?” I whisper to myself from where I sit, looking at the meal in front of me, my appetite suddenly gone.
“Yes, the food has been poisoned,” he says, and then turning to me, he adds, “And the girl did it.” My eyes look around the room in a probe for the said girl who would dare poison Daciano’s meal, or mine— whoever the intended target was.
My eyes go from Daciano, to Callum, to the two servants standing there with white faces, and it takes all four pairs of eyes being fixed on me before I realize that I’m the said only girl who he’s referring to. Which means that I’m being accused?
ME!
“Me?” I ask, my hand pointing subtly towards myself, my face a mask of confusion . “There is no way it can be me —”
“You went to the kitchen b
