[Third Person].
By afternoon, once the hall had been cleared of visiting envoys, Meredith dismissed most of the servants.
Only two trusted guards remained at the entrance. And then, there were her five maidservants who were inside with her, waiting at the side.
Meredith moved slowly along the tables, her fingers gliding lightly over velvet, polished wood, glass bottles, sealed envelopes. Then she closed her eyes and breathed in. The air was layered with dozens of scents—fresh timber, metallic polish, ink, wine, leather, incense oils.
She separated them one by one. She had learned to detect the faintest trace of corruption—bitter herbs masked in perfume, venom diluted in syrup, toxin woven into silk threads, even powders dusted along jewellery clasps.
She would not allow history to repeat itself. Not for her mate. Not for her crown.
Meredith paused at a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid and leaned closer. Then she inhaled and found it harmless.
