Dominance of Veiled Heart

Chapter 44 (Part 1)

Prince Michaelli’s suspicion toward Tuk never wavered. Even now, as he summoned her—not for a report, not for research, but to prepare tea of all things. Her audacity remained intact.

He had given her countless opportunities to poison him. Yet she hadn’t taken a single one.

If her goal isn’t my death, then what is it?

Perhaps he wasn’t trying hard enough.

“I apologize if this sounds audacious,” Tuk began, her tone polite but clipped, a businesslike smile plastered across her face. “But I’m not a servant, Your Highness.”

“I’m aware,” the prince replied smoothly, not bothering to glance up from his papers. “And I didn’t ask.”

Tuk’s smile tightened. A faint flush crept up her neck. “Right,” she muttered. “Shall I call a servant to prepare your tea, then?”

“No.”

His voice dripped with mockery as he finally looked up, his smirk sharp as a blade. “I want you to make it.”

Her lips parted, ready with a retort—but she forced it down with an exhale. Without another word, she turned to the tea station in the corner of the room.

Her steps were deliberate.

Her silence was pointed.

The soft snap of the tea caddy echoed in the stillness. Each movement was precise, borderline aggressive, as she prepared the brew with the air of someone wielding a weapon rather than a teapot.

Michaelli’s lips twitched in amusement. He turned to Nixon, who stood nearby, clinging to his ledger like a lifeline. “How are the crystals?”

Nixon adjusted his glasses, scanning a thick volume. “The situation remains unresolved despite our offerings to Cyralune. If anything, the creatures have grown more mischievous. Several collectors have lost their way to the Cave of Crystaliana.”

The prince’s fingers drummed against the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tuk approach with a tray. She placed a steaming cup before him with the careful grace of someone trying very hard not to fling it at his face.

Michaelli picked up the cup, took a sip while reading the report, and instantly regretted it.

His entire face contorted. He pulled the cup away, eyeing the murky liquid as if it had personally insulted him.

“What is this?” he demanded.

Tuk’s brow lifted, her polite mask firmly in place. “Tea, Your Highness.”

“This isn’t tea.” He set the cup down sharply. “This is—this is leaves floating in the water. How do you expect me to drink this?”

“How should I know?” Tuk shot back. “I’m not a servant trained in the art of tea-making.”

Her tone was so composed, so painfully neutral, that it took Nixon a moment to process the sheer audacity of her words.

Michaelli stared at her.

Tuk stared back, unrelenting.

A slow smirk crept onto the prince’s lips. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I assure you, Your Highness, if I wanted to poison you, I’d use something far more effective.”

Silence.

Nixon choked on absolutely nothing. His soul quietly left his body.

Michaelli’s gaze lingered on Tuk, studying her as though peeling back layers, searching for the crack in her façade.

Her patience was already wearing thin today, and the fact that she was on her period was not helping. She inhaled sharply, forced a serene smile, and folded her hands neatly before her.

“Well?” she asked sweetly. “Are you going to finish your tea, Your Highness?”

Michaelli tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Tell me, Tuk. Is this an assassination attempt or a diplomatic offense?”

Tuk shrugged. “Depends. Are you still breathing?”

Nixon’s grip on his ledger tightened to the brink of tearing it in half.

Michaelli leaned back, utterly entertained, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. “You have an impressive lack of fear.”

“Oh, I have fear.” Tuk smiled. “I just prioritize my dignity over it.”

The prince let out a soft chuckle, one that sent a strange flicker through Tuk’s chest. He lifted the teacup again but didn’t drink. Instead, he swirled the liquid thoughtfully.

“You are aware,” he said smoothly, “that if this tea were any worse, it might qualify as an act of treason?”

Tuk crossed her arms. “You’re aware that if you wanted decent tea, you should have asked someone who knows how to make it?”

Michaelli hummed, unconvinced, but clearly entertained. Then, with all the arrogance of a man who had never suffered consequences for his whims, he pushed the cup toward her.

“Drink it.”

Tuk blinked. “Excuse me?”