"Duke Danman."
Zayden pressed his lips together tightly, forcing a grin.
The elderly man returned the smile—equally staged, equally practiced.
"Yes?" His voice echoed in the empty hall.
"You are behind this, are you not?"
Despite having prepared for this, somehow the Duke had still managed to tamper with the wine. But how? Guards were constantly ensuring that no one approached the wine served to the guests.
At least it seemed he had used a sleeping draught, not poison… but still…
"I am afraid I am unsure what you mean, General," Duke Danman said, approaching him, his footsteps echoing through the silent banquet hall, creating a slow, deliberate rhythm in the absence of music.
Zayden narrowed his eyes. This man was different from the one he had met long ago. At first, he had doubted whether the Duke would truly tamper with the wine—something every noble drank. But James had been right all along. He did it.
A chuckle escaped him, catching the Duke off guard.
