Chapter 17: The Poison Trap
The night in Astellia hung heavy with deceptive splendor, promising a serenity that would never come. Giant candles in the palace's grand hall cast golden light, toying with shadows along carved walls, as if they danced to the rhythm of intrigues that had only just begun. In the depths of the magnificent palace, behind double doors carved with acanthus leaves and tightly shut, Queen Eleanor and Lady Isabelle were weaving a web. The air in the Queen's private chamber was thick with the scent of jasmine and power, but Shapira, unseen, could feel the cold vibration of malice flowing there.
Queen Eleanor, her back straight and chin lifted regally, folded her hands across her chest. Her velvet-black gown absorbed the light, making her appear like a silhouette carved from the night itself. Her eyes, which usually radiated the warmth of a mother, were now as icy as winter. Before her, Lady Isabelle smiled faintly, her gaze glinting with cunning. Isabelle crossed her legs gracefully, occasionally adjusting the sapphire bracelet on her wrist.
"Are you certain this plan will work, Isabelle?" Queen Eleanor asked, her voice low yet filled with authority, breaking the tense silence. "William … my son is so stubborn. He is nearly inseparable from that strange girl, and you know he would defend her to the death."
Isabelle nodded, glancing at the large mirror reflecting their figures, as if ensuring her appearance remained flawless even while plotting someone's downfall. "Of course, Your Majesty. We cannot attack her directly, that much is true. Prince William, with all his excessive honor, would see it as injustice. But what if she appeared guilty in everyone's eyes? What if Astellia itself demanded her removal, under the guise of the kingdom's safety and honor?"
Queen Eleanor narrowed her eyes. "Explain in detail. I do not tolerate hesitation in matters such as this."
"Here is the plan, Your Majesty," Isabelle leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though no one else was near them except the silent walls. "We cannot strike from jealousy, even if that is our true motive. We must strike from the angle of security. Shapira is an outsider, no status, no protector but William. The nobles already dislike her, and the King himself is uncertain. All we need is to give them a strong reason."
The Queen pondered for a moment, her fingers tapping the ornate armrest of her chair. "So, a trap? One that makes her appear … dangerous?"
"Not just dangerous, Your Majesty," Isabelle corrected, her smile widening. "But also devious, treacherous, perhaps even … a murderer." Isabelle's voice sounded sweet, but the words spilling from her lips were pure venom. "Imagine this, William is a prince, heir to the throne. He is surrounded by noblewomen, and Shapira, a servant, appears out of nowhere. Isn't it natural for her to feel insecure? Isn't it natural that she might act impulsively, even cruelly, to keep her place? We need only provoke her emotions, then let her swallow the bait herself."
"And what will be the bait?" Queen Eleanor asked, her interest now clear, her voice sharper with excitement.
"Me, Your Majesty," Isabelle answered proudly. "I will be the victim. William has always been courteous to me, never refusing a dance or a conversation at parties. We will use that. I will lavish excessive attention on William, right in front of Shapira. I will praise him openly, flirt with sweet words and lingering glances. Let Shapira see how a true lady of Astellia attracts the Prince, not some nameless stranger. Jealousy … is the most effective poison. Especially for someone pure of heart, but fragile in emotion."
Queen Eleanor let out a dry, sharp laugh, like fallen leaves crushed underfoot. "You are cunning, Isabelle. I like that. So, we will provoke Shapira's jealousy until she loses her reason, and then you … will become the victim of her act?"
"Exactly, Your Majesty," Isabelle replied, her eyes glinting with triumph. "She will look like a monster. And who would defend a monster, even if William insists? Astellia's reputation matters more than William's baseless affection for a servant."
A few days later, the plan began to unfold amid the palace's bustling grandeur. Shapira felt the air grow colder every time Isabelle drew near William. The noblewoman's expensive perfume seemed deliberately cast into the air, trailing her graceful steps as she hovered around the prince. Shapira tried to ignore it, but every calculated touch, every deliberate laugh, chipped away at her fragile calm.
At a magnificent dinner banquet, with a long table laden with exquisite dishes and gleaming silver plates, William and Isabelle sat close, an "accident" arranged by Queen Eleanor. Shapira, tasked with refilling the wine glasses, saw everything.
"Oh, Prince William," Isabelle began in her melodious voice designed to draw attention, her eyes sparkling as they lingered on him. "I must say, your speech to the soldiers today was truly inspiring. No other prince in Nymira has your charisma and bravery. Even the soldiers were talking about it, they truly admire you."
William smiled politely, though Shapira noticed the faint crease of discomfort in his brow. "Thank you, Lady Isabelle. I am only doing my duty."
"Do not be modest, my son," Queen Eleanor interjected from the far end of the table, her gaze sweeping deliberately toward Shapira who stood not far from William. "Isabelle is right. You have a spirit of leadership unmatched by any other. I cannot imagine Astellia without a prince like you. A strong, handsome, and wise leader. Every girl in Astellia must wish to stand at your side."
Her words were loud enough to ensure Shapira heard them. Heat rose to Shapira's cheeks, her fists tightening behind the tray she carried. She knew it was all theater, yet jealousy was a beast not easily tamed, slithering into her heart. She noticed William glance at her occasionally, his eyes filled with hesitation and regret, but he did nothing to stop Isabelle. He merely returned a strained smile, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.
"And I noticed, Prince," Isabelle continued, ignoring William's attempts, "your taste in art and literature is impeccable. I passed by the library today and saw you reading one of my favorite poetry volumes. We must discuss it together sometime, mustn't we?" She leaned closer, her shoulder nearly brushing his arm. "I have always longed for someone who shares such intellectual passions."
An invisible needle pierced Shapira's heart. She remembered nights in the library, when William began opening his heart to her, sharing stories and laughter. Did none of it matter? Could William be swayed so easily by flattery? Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she forced herself to remain composed, lowering her gaze as she carried on with mechanical motions.
From afar, Queen Eleanor observed Shapira's reaction and allowed herself a thin smile of satisfaction. She exchanged a knowing look with Isabelle, who returned it with a sly grin.
Dinner dragged on, Isabelle relentlessly vying for William's attention. Shapira, heartbroken and reeling, kept her distance, avoiding William's eyes for fear her tears would betray her.
"Shapira, come here," Queen Eleanor suddenly called, her voice sweet yet cold. "Isabelle needs more wine. Pour it for her."
Shapira's heart lurched, pounding wildly. A trap. She knew it. But she had no choice. Forcing steady steps, she approached the table, feeling Isabelle's piercing gaze and the Queen's frosty stare. William, busy cutting his meat, did not notice the loaded glances.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Shapira replied evenly, taking the wine bottle from the side table. Her hands trembled slightly, but she willed them steady.
She poured the rich red wine into Isabelle's crystal glass. Isabelle watched, lips curling into a mocking smile. Unseen by Shapira, Isabelle had prepared a small vial of clear liquid beneath the table. With a swift, practiced motion, she dropped a few drops into her own glass just after Shapira set the bottle down. The liquid dissolved instantly, leaving no trace.
Shapira completed her task and turned away, resisting the urge to look at William. She only wanted to flee this stage of deceit. She felt the air around Isabelle and Queen Eleanor hum with dark energy, though she could not define it.
"Thank you, Shapira," Isabelle said sweetly, though beneath her tone lay an odd triumph, as if she had already won.
Moments later, the hall filled with whispers of nobles and the clinking of silverware. Suddenly, Isabelle coughed. Once, twice, louder. She clutched her chest, her face flushing red.
"Cough, cough!" Her voice rasped. William immediately turned, concern etched across his brow.
"Lady Isabelle, are you all right?" he asked, genuine worry in his tone.
Isabelle did not answer. She gasped for air, her coughing worsening, her face paling rapidly. She staggered in her chair, grasping at nothing.
"P-poison …," she rasped, her voice barely audible, but loud enough for those nearby to hear. Her wide eyes locked on William, as though delivering a final message. "Sha … Shapira .…"
With a clatter of fallen dishes, Isabelle collapsed from her chair, unconscious on the cold marble floor. Her glass rolled away, unbroken.
The once-bustling banquet hall froze in stunned silence. William leapt from his seat, pale-faced, kneeling beside her.
"Isabelle!" he cried, checking her breath with trembling hands. "What happened? Healer! Fetch the royal healer, quickly!"
Chaos erupted. Servants scrambled, nobles whispered in shock. Queen Eleanor shrieked, her voice piercing, "Poison! Isabelle has been poisoned! Oh, heavens, it must be … it cannot be .…" She feigned sobs, covering her jeweled face with her hands, but through her fingers, Shapira glimpsed the Queen's unmistakable look of satisfaction.
From her corner, Shapira felt her blood run cold. She knew this was a trap. She had been framed. Her body shook, not with fear, but with searing fury. William turned toward her, his gaze torn between concern for Isabelle and the haunting suspicion cast upon Shapira.
The royal healer rushed in, panting. He examined Isabelle swiftly, checking her pulse and sniffing the wine. His expression grew grave.
"She has been poisoned, Your Majesty," he reported to William and Queen Eleanor. "A poison not lethal, but strong enough to paralyze. Fortunately, I believe she will recover. But … this was a vile act."
Immediately, Queen Eleanor stepped forward, pointing at Shapira with a trembling finger, her eyes blazing with feigned wrath. "Look! Who else could it be? Her! Shapira! She poured the wine for Isabelle! She saw how William began to favor Lady Isabelle, and she … she grew jealous! She tried to murder her!"
Her voice thundered across the hall, silencing the chaos. Every eye turned to Shapira, who stood frozen. Whispers rose again, now thick with suspicion and scorn.
William looked up, his blue eyes wide with shock and painful disbelief. "Mother! No! That cannot be true! Shapira would never commit such a vile act!" He tried to defend her, but his voice wavered under the Queen's commanding accusation and Isabelle's convincing performance. His heart was torn, between loyalty to his mother and love for Shapira, who now seemed the prime suspect.
King Astellia, who had watched silently until then, finally spoke. "William, calm yourself. We must hear Shapira's explanation." His tone was gentle, but Shapira could sense the heavy dilemma weighing on him.
Summoning strength she did not know she had, Shapira stepped forward, ignoring the nobles' disgusted stares. Her face was pale, but her eyes blazed with desperate fire. "No! I did not do it! This is a trap! Lady Isabelle … Lady Isabelle poured something into her own glass!" She turned her gaze squarely on Queen Eleanor, courage radiating despite the damning scene. "She planned this! You were involved, too, Your Majesty!"
Queen Eleanor laughed coldly. "A trap? Nonsense! You tried to kill a noblewoman in my palace, and now you blame Isabelle? Do you take us for fools, foreign witch? Who would believe your fairy tale? You are jealous, Shapira. Jealous because William will never choose you! You are a threat to Astellia!"
"I am not lying!" Shapira cried, her voice trembling yet firm, tears brimming in her eyes. She turned to William, searching desperately for a spark of trust in his troubled gaze. "William, you must believe me! I have never harmed anyone!"
William met her eyes, his face torn with conflict. His mother's words, a threat to Astellia, echoed in his mind. Doubt slithered in, fueled by Isabelle's collapsed form. He saw the tears in Shapira's eyes, heard her desperation, but the fabricated evidence weighed heavily. Shapira was a servant, a foreigner, with inexplicable powers. Isabelle was noble, pureblooded, his cousin. How could he …
"I .…" William began, his voice breaking. He could not finish. He only stared at Shapira, his once-loving gaze clouded with doubt and anguish. He turned helplessly toward his mother, then the King, as though seeking guidance. His heart screamed to defend Shapira, but his mind whispered caution.
Shapira's chest caved inward as she saw it, the mistrust in William's eyes, a poison more lethal than any Isabelle could brew. She had not only lost her reputation, she felt she had lost the faith of the only one meant to protect her.
"Prince William!" Queen Eleanor pressed, her voice sharp. "Will you let this murderer roam free in my palace?"
Shapira turned away, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. She had been framed, disgraced, and now abandoned. Alone in a sea of hateful stares, she wondered, what else could she do? Who could she trust, when even William …
"Take Shapira to the palace dungeons!" Queen Eleanor thundered, not waiting for William's reply. "She will face trial tomorrow. We cannot allow such treachery to go unpunished!"
Guards immediately seized her arms with iron grips. Shapira did not resist. Her heart was too broken to fight. She only cast one last pleading look at William before being dragged away, leaving him rooted in place, staring at the marble floor where Isabelle had collapsed, haunted by Shapira's accused shadow.
For Shapira, the stakes had never been higher. She was not only facing prison and false charges, but also the shattering of the love she had fought so desperately to hold on to.