She hesitated, eyes darting nervously. "I came with the wine… the Count had asked for his special red. Lord Julian was already by the table, checking the goblets."
I nodded slightly. "Checking them? Why?"
"I—I don't know," she admitted. "He said his father preferred his wine served just right."
Of course he did. A noble excuse for tampering.
I took a slow step closer. "Did you see him do anything unusual?"
She shakes her head vigorously, her hands start to fidget, and her eyes go unfocused. My eyes immediately notice that she's showing signs of nervousness. She's clearly lying.
"No, nothing was unusual."
"I see," I said, keeping my voice calm. "Then tell me—did he have anything with him? Maybe something he wouldn't normally bring to the Hall?"
Her gaze flickered for a moment. "He… he had a small vial in his hand. It maybe a perfume."
A murmur rippled through the audience again.
I kept my tone neutral, calm, encouraging. "And what did he do with the vial, Claire?"
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "He poured a few drops into the goblet, then swirled it. I remember because he said… he said the Count liked his wine extra sweet."
The entire hall froze.
Even the King's hand, resting lazily on his throne, stilled.
My heart pounded once, hard, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I leaned slightly forward. "Extra sweet," I repeated. "Did you notice anything else? The color? The smell?"
She blinked, thinking. "It smelled… strange. Sweet, yes, but… sharp too. Like almonds."
Sweet and sharp. My mind instantly clicked. That's it.
That matched every sign from the Count's death—the fast collapse, the discolored lips, the faint scent on Julian's hands that had been described in the novel.
"You did well to remember that," I said, my tone still gentle. "It wasn't a perfume—it's poison." I concluded.
The courtroom erupted into whispers. The judge slammed his gavel against the table. "Silence!"
But I didn't stop. I stepped closer to Claire, keeping her focus on me. "Did you smelled it or touch the cup?"
She shook her head quickly. "No, my lady. Lord Julian handed you the goblet. I remember because your eyes met."
She was telling the truth. Laetitia standing there, smiling nervously, meeting the maid's gaze just as Julian handed her the poisoned cup. The flicker of the torchlight on the silver rim. The faint smirk curling Julian's lips.
That was how she'd remembered the maid's eyes. That moment burned into her mind right before her life began to fall apart.
I straightened slowly, facing the King and the judge again. "Your Majesty, as you've heard, the witness confirms that the Count's son, Julian Maugrot, tampered with the wine before it ever reached my hands."
The judge frowned. "And yet, Lady D'Aubigny, this maid could be mistaken. Fright can alter memory."
I nodded slightly, expected that. "True. Which is why the physical evidence supports her statements."
I turned toward the royal physician standing in the corner, his white robe almost blending with the marble pillar. "Physician, may I ask what you observed during the examination of Count Maugrot's remains?"
The man adjusted his spectacles nervously. "There was… discoloration on the lips and fingertips. The Count's pulse had ceased almost instantly. There was also a faint smell of—"
"Sweet almonds," I supplied quietly.
He blinked, startled. "Yes. Precisely."
A sharp intake of breath went through the room.
The King leaned forward now, his earlier disinterest fading. "The Count is poisoned—Yes but what we want to know is who poisoned him."
I look at Julian's gloves again and speak. "The substance was fast-acting, colorless, and sweet to the scent. You can examine the gloves to see if the scent matches. It matches the witness's description of what Julian Maugrot poured into the cup."
Gasps, shouts, curses — the chaos was immediate.
The judges tried to shout over the noise, the nobles craned their necks, and even the King's mask of calm faltered slightly.
I turned slowly toward Julian.
He looked frozen — his jaw locked, his eyes wide with panic barely hidden behind rage.
For the first time, he looked less like a nobleman and more like the snake he truly was.
"Your Majesty," I continued calmly, "I stand before you not to accuse without reason, but to remind the court that evidence—both physical and testimonial—should speak louder than assumption.
The physician returned just then, clutching both the glove and a small vial. He bowed low before speaking.
"Your Majesty… I confirmed it. The scent residue on this glove matches that found on the late Count's lips and goblet."
My heart thudded once — not from fear, but victory.
Julian's face drained of all color. "That—That's impossible! She must have planted—"
"Enough," the King said, his voice echoing like thunder. "The evidence speaks."
I bowed slightly, my voice calm and cold. "Your Majesty, I believe the truth is clear now. I am not the murderer."
The nobles' whispers filled the hall like the hiss of snakes. Some looked at me with awe, others with fear.
Across the room, Elias sat relaxed, a smirk tugging at his lips — his eyes sharp, intrigued, like he was watching the most entertaining play of his life.
And then, finally, I turned my gaze to the dais — to her.
Princess Serenelle sat stiffly now, her perfect angelic smile gone, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat. Her eyes flickered with something ugly — annoyance, anger.
I met her gaze without flinching. Steady and Unyielding.
Then I smiled — the kind of smile that wasn't sweet at all.
"Your Highness," I said softly, my voice cutting through the murmurs, "it seems justice still breathes in this court after all. I wonder how long it will keep breathing… once the rest of the truth comes out."
Her expression twisted — just slightly. Annoyance, irritation, something she tried to hide behind that royal mask.
Good.
Let her squirm.
Because this was just the beginning.
On that same day, I was announce innocent.