I Married the Mad Duke Who Killed My Husband - Chapter 17.2
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“We are in the presence of His Majesty the Emperor.”
“Yes, let’s take our seats before the food gets cold.”
As the doors to the dining hall opened, we could see the Emperor sitting at the end of a long, ornate table.
Cassion and I took a few steps forward and greeted him, but the Emperor, seemingly annoyed by the formal greeting, waved his hand, urging us to sit down first.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
I gently led the slightly hesitant Cassion to the seats that a servant pulled out for us. Even in that brief moment, I could feel the Emperor’s gaze scrutinizing me.
Not just his face, but even his seemingly casual yet subtly sharp temperament was so similar to the Second Prince that it was laughable how rumors about bloodlines had spread.
“I apologize for the late visit, Your Majesty.”
I lightly poked Cassion in the side, who kept looking at me instead of the Emperor, and he mechanically uttered a greeting. Seeing this, the Emperor chuckled and received the meal preparation from the servant.
“It’s I who called for you late, why should the Duke apologize? More importantly, you two seem to suit each other very well.”
“Thank you.”
This time, Cassion’s response was quick. The Emperor’s smile deepened.
“I thought you might have threatened some pitiful woman to maintain your dukedom. But now I see, it’s you who’s being held on a tight leash, isn’t it?”
Surprised, Cassion and I were at a loss for words, forgetting we were in the presence of the Emperor. How on earth should one respond politely to such a remark? Yes, I have him completely under my thumb?
“It was quite difficult to even dance once with the Duchess at the recent reception.”
Fortunately, the Second Prince, seated across from us, picked up the conversation. Was this lunch not for closely examining us, but for teasing us?
“Being newlyweds, I apologize for any lack of decorum, Your Highness. Your Majesty.”
“Haha. She looks like such a delicate young girl, though.”
As I responded while watching a servant approach to fill our glasses from the corner of my eye, the Emperor scrutinized me more closely. At that moment, I felt a strange sensation. The Emperor’s glass had been filled before ours and was about to be touched.
“….”
There’s no evidence. But don’t we all have days like this sometimes? When we feel, “Oh, I shouldn’t go there,” or “Somehow, I shouldn’t do this,” for reasons we can’t explain.
People say not to ignore such intuitions.
Then should I now, ignoring etiquette, take action? Without any evidence?
“…Asil?”
“The food will get cold while we’re greeting. Let’s talk as we eat. I’ve instructed my chef to pay special attention.”
Cassion, noticing my subtle tension, called me softly. But I couldn’t answer, focused on the Emperor’s words and actions as he reached for his glass.
Instead, I looked at the Second Prince.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the Second Prince, who hadn’t yet picked up his utensils, met my trembling gaze, stared blankly for a moment, then slowly turned his head to look at the Emperor. The entire scene seemed to unfold in slow motion.
“Father.”
“Hmm?”
At the Second Prince’s sudden use of “Father” instead of “Your Majesty” as he stood up, the Emperor, who was about to take a sip of the aperitif and reach for the appetizer, paused.
“May I be excused for a moment?”
“….”
The appetizer was bruschetta, a flat bread topped with herbs, beans, and fruit, drizzled with a tangy yuzu sauce. I couldn’t identify what herb it was.
But to be suspicious… Bruschetta was placed at everyone’s seat. Unless they were trying to poison everyone at this table, it didn’t seem to be that, yet I felt a chill down my spine.
And as the Second Prince approached with proper etiquette, enduring the Emperor’s silent gaze, he reached for the bruschetta.
“….”
“….”
A heavy silence fell as he took a bite of the bruschetta and chewed slowly. Being the Emperor’s seat, there must have been many assassination attempts. So he shouldn’t be displeased with his son trying to confirm this. But it’s not a pleasant action either.
Grateful to the prince for acting on his own without me having to step in, I clenched my fists tightly under the table. My nails digging into my palms gave me a sense of reality.
“Call the chef.”
“…Is there a problem with the appetizer?”
The prince who ate the bruschetta seemed fine. But he called for the chef with a hardened expression, and the Emperor asked.
“The herb in the bruschetta is cachiola. And only Father’s aperitif is subtly different in color.”
At the prince’s calm explanation, the Emperor’s gaze turned to the aperitif glass he had already sipped from. I thought it was just because of the bubbles, but now that he mentioned it, it did look slightly paler than mine or Cassion’s.
“It seems to be wine made from green grapes, but there’s a faint scent of sila flowers.”
“…!”
At the prince’s words, the Emperor’s expression hardened as he put down his glass. Not knowing what the problem was, I kept biting the inside of my cheek as I observed the situation.
Just then, the chef, who seemed to have rushed in, entered.
“Come closer.”
“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”
He approached timidly, quickly scanning the dishes. But unable to find anything strange, he just looked miserable.
“Did you prepare this bruschetta and aperitif?”
“M-May I check, if that’s alright?”
The Emperor, still maintaining his scary expressionless face, nodded, and the chef tremblingly checked the bruschetta and aperitif.
After examining the food, he just wore a puzzled, miserable expression, but when he smelled the aperitif… he hardened his expression like the Emperor and the prince.
“No! The wine I served was pure green grape wine without any flower additives, Your Majesty!”
The chef cried out desperately, falling to his knees. Though I had no knowledge of herbs or food, by this point, even I could slowly begin to understand what the problem was.
“Please believe me, Your Majesty! It wasn’t me!”
The combination of cachiola in the bruschetta and sila flowers is not good.
