Edmund lifted his hand, displaying his evidence he had been looking for. No need to dance around the issue anymore. “Perhaps you don’t wish to accept my offer of an apothecary position because you are expecting to claim a much higher position instead. To go from a servant to a Duchess would be an unattainable dream for those who don’t possess such extraordinary skills.” Edmund kept his tone relatively neutral, though he did allow it to sharpen a little in accusation at the end. 
   He watched for her reaction. Either she was part of the plot from the beginning, or she had chosen to take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself to her. Either way, knowing her ambitions would help him navigate dealing with her moving forward. He idly wondered how she would react now that she was being exposed. 
    Can she keep up that aloof attitude now? He almost hoped that she would feign some guilt or humility. He could use that to firmly take the upper hand.
   However, Edmund was destined to be disappointed. 
   Her gaze flicked between him and the strands of long, wavy red hair he held that perfectly matched the strands he had retrieved that morning. Obviously deducing that he had made some connection to her, she didn’t back down as he anticipated. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him. 
   “Don’t be ridiculous, Your Grace.” She snorted derisively. “ A common-born Duchess would spend the rest of her life in misery, hated on all sides. As for me, there is nothing on this plane of existence that could entice me to become a Duchess. Especially one tied to a Duke who is dimwitted enough to willingly ingest poison on his very first night in an enemy stronghold.” The scathing look she was shooting him clearly expressed her view that, at least in her eyes, he was obviously lacking in basic survival skills. “I can understand not taking a potion of unknown provenance, but finding antidotes conveniently left at your disposal in your room should have at least served as a warning that someone was intending to poison you. If you had heeded the warning, you would have saved everyone all the inconvenience.” 
     He had never heard anyone call climbing into a Duke’s bed an inconvenience. Noble families would scheme for generations just for a slight chance to tie themselves to one of the Cardinal Houses in even the most trivial way, let alone having a chance to become the mother of an heir. 
    “Strong words from a woman who created the poison and then took her mistress’s place to reap the rewards of the scheme.” Edmund couldn’t keep the anger from his tone. Beyond the insult to his position as the Duke, he felt personally insulted. Even before receiving the title from his father, he had built a reputation for strategic maneuvering and wisdom. Used to commanding respect from his men and vassals alike, he had never had someone quite so effectively question his intelligence. Edmund had been a sworn knight and Spellblade for over a decade, and she had practically called him an idiot to his face. 
   “Reaped the rewards?” The mocking sarcasm in her tone grated. “I have reaped nothing other than a sleepless night and a frustratingly unnecessary conversation, Your Grace.” She had already set aside her work, but now she turned to face him fully.  She held up her hand, ticking off points on her fingers one by one. “First, I was not involved with the making of that drug, Your Grace. It was entirely too crude. Using solestra for something as simple as an aphrodisiac for a healthy young man is like using a hammer to smash open a door that doesn’t even have a lock.” She snorted, her professional disdain evident. “Second, I provided an antidote ahead of time to you, Your Grace, as a warning and just in case they were still able to slip it into your food.” 
    “Third.” Here she paused and glared at him. “I did not come knocking on your door in the middle of the night, Your Grace. When I was awakened from a dead slumber in the middle of the night, I thought I would send the lost drunkard on his way peacefully. I counted it as doing a small good deed for someone who overindulged. Who knew that the rude man slurring his words was not merely drunk, but instead drugged? It never occurred to me that a grown man, who has a reputation for shrewdness and cunning on the battlefield, would be like a wet-behind-the-ears child when faced with the oldest trick in the book and actually ingest the drug!” If looks could cut, Edmund would be on the ground bleeding from the sharpness in her gaze. “It also never occurred to me that under its effects, not only would the fool not go to the correct woman’s room, but he would also push his way into my room to use my body as a crude antidote instead of taking the perfectly adequate ones I had already provided him!” Her voice rose in agitation, and she slammed her hand down on the table with enough force to make him take a cautious step back. 
    The gesture must have been unconscious, because a small look of shock crossed her face at the sound of her palm hitting the wood. Closing her eyes, she took some deep breaths, obviously trying to rein in her agitation. 
    So she isn’t as calm behind the facade as she wants to appear. 
    Edmund searched for something to say, but before he could speak, she opened her eyes and continued. “And finally, Your Grace, I left you fast asleep and snoring this morning, sneaking out of my own chamber like a thief, just to avoid any kind of entanglement with you going forward.” Her words were firm, her voice as steady and calm as when he first entered her workshop. “Therefore, any further conversation or discussions between us are, indeed, unnecessary.” The dismissal in her tone was clear.
    Her entire demeanor supported her claims that she had no designs on either the position of Duchess or Edmund himself. The clear, unwavering gaze that raked over him reflected her unflattering opinion. If anything, it appeared that she now viewed him as an incompetent fool and wanted nothing further to do with him. Unless she was a truly accomplished actress, he would have to accept that in the matter of the night they spent together, she was most likely another victim. 
    However, he found it hard to believe that she was not in some way involved in the original scheme to drug him. How else would she not only know the main ingredient of the drug used but also provide him with the antidote ahead of time? This could merely be a matter of a mad dog in its frenzy biting its owner’s hand by mistake.
   Setting the matter of the original drugging aside for a moment, Edmund considered the situation. There were still other possible consequences to be considered. Even if this were a comedy of errors, if she were already carrying his child, then he would have to force her to accompany him back to the Keep. 
      He felt the frustration that had been simmering inside him since he had woken up with jumbled memories and an empty bed, starting to bubble up. From childhood, he had always known that as heir, eventually, he would marry for the good of the North. Emotions like passion or love were not part of the calculations when his bride was chosen. A business arrangement between two interested parties was the best he could hope for. 
    The best partnerships, as far as Edmund could tell, were like his Uncle Galen and Aunt Helga’s. Built on a mutual trust and love for their homeland, the former Commander of the Northern Knights and his wife had worked well together and helped to bring peace and comfort to the North. With his own mother gone and his father showing no interest in a second marriage, Edmund had often found himself spending time in the Kirin’s home, becoming fast friends with their son, Arthur. 
    The quiet harmony of their home had become the model that Edmund wished to shape his own future family life from. The warm days he spent with them in childhood were only disrupted once that he could remember. When Edmund had been about seven, just a few short years before his father would take him to the battlefield for the first time, he had just returned from practicing his swordsmanship drills. The Kirin’s quarters were always lively and full of the sounds of Aunt Helga’s laughter or the bustling of servants. That day, it had been just as quiet as the empty corridors of the main wing of the Keep where Edmund and his father lived. As he approached the sitting room, where he could usually find his Aunt in the afternoon, he startled a young maid who was silently listening at the door, a worried look on her face. 
   After being discovered by him, the maid had bobbed a curtsy and escaped, but the raised voices that he could hear coming from the other side of the door had revealed to him how precarious a partnership could be. At the time, Edmund had been too young to fully grasp what had happened. He only knew that a young woman had appeared with a baby, presented it to his Aunt, and then his Aunt had turned cold towards his Uncle. A few days later, the woman and baby had disappeared, along with his Aunt’s carefree laughter. Since then, while she smiled at the two young boys she cared for just the same, that smile no longer included Galen, and his Uncle had spent longer and longer with the knights and away from home. Slowly, his Aunt became a cold and stiff woman, entrenched in her status and title, what little warmth she had left reserved for the two boys alone. Though as they grew into men, even that largely waned. 
    As he got older, the reality of what had happened became clear to him. Once he was old enough to join his Father and Uncle on their maneuvers, he had even found out where the woman and baby had disappeared to. They were the ‘knights’ that his Uncle was spending his time with, and the cozy cottage that served as a home for this second family rang with the warmth and caring that was now gone from the Keep. 
   Watching the swift decay of his friend’s family caused by a husband’s inability to stay committed to his partnership had made Edmund avoid all possible entanglements. Even with his disturbingly mismatched eyes, there had never been a shortage of women willing to form a relationship with him in the hopes of gaining something, but he had steadfastly refused them all. He had felt that he owed it to his future partner to never let them become like Aunt Helga.
   Now, because of his own lack of wariness, a glass of wine had wiped away the years of restraint he had shown. If this stubborn woman were indeed carrying his child, the complications would be endless. 
    On top of that, he still had that ridiculous prophecy and the Vassals to deal with. With his frustration reaching a peak, Edmund tried to take control of the conversation again. “I will set aside what led to my drugging, for now, but we do have further matters to discuss.” He chose to ignore the derisive snort that followed his mention of his drugging. “The fact remains that you might be carrying the heir to Wyvern’s Rest Keep already. Even you must admit that confirmation one way or another is required. As such, I must insist that you accompany me until it can either be confirmed or ruled out, as well as monitor to ensure that no further schemes are enacted. If you were to show up at the Keep in ten months with an infant, there would be no way to confirm that it is mine.” If Edmund had thought that her glare earlier had been harsh, the scathing look that she leveled on him now put it to shame. “Either that or I will have to request that the Marquis allow me to stay here in the Castle indefinitely and explain why I must observe you.”
   He felt a small bit of satisfaction that the calm she had regained was now long gone. Red flags of anger burned on her cheeks as she sucked in a breath and gestured around the room and hissed,  “If you think that I don’t have the skill to easily-” 
   Suddenly, there was a sharp rapping on the door, followed by a strong female voice calling out, “Marchioness Thorne!” The young woman fell silent midsentence, turning her glare to the door for a moment. Then she noticed Edmund about to speak and shook her head, stepping forward quickly to press her fingertip to his lips to silence him.
   “Be quiet!” she hissed vehemently, then glanced around the room quickly, searching. “Is everyone committed to being a nuisance today?” The woman muttered irritably. A moment later, Edmund found himself being dragged hastily by the arm away from the table he had been leaning against. Curious as to what she intended, he allowed her to tug him along. 
   His assumption that the cabinets lining the left wall could hold a person was correct. Within a few seconds of the announcement at the door, she had dragged him to one furthest from the door, opened it, and shoved him inside. Reaching out to swing the doors closed again just as swiftly, she obviously intended to hide him away without a word. 
   Edmund shot his arm out on instinct, halting it. He gave her a look that silently demanded answers. The expression that usually compelled grown men to confess their sins within minutes only elicited an annoyed sigh from the young woman.  She glared back at him for a moment, and for the first time in his life, Edmund felt that he might lose a battle of wills. After another few seconds, however, there was another sharp rapping on the door, and she broke eye contact. Deciding that a different tack would give her faster results, her attitude shifted, and she ducked under his outstretched arm and leaned into him, using the soft pressure of her own body pressed to his to help push him further into the cabinet. Her sudden closeness brought with it that elusive scent that had been teasing his nose. With the full scent filling the space, the spicy citrus scent triggered a barrage of half-formed images that arrested his senses. 
   “I need your cooperation, Your Grace. If she finds you here, it won’t be good for either of us. Be helpful for once and stay here. Then you can continue to berate me uselessly.” Her voice right next to his ear, low and breathy, had a tingling sensation spreading from where her warm breath fanned over his skin. Having said that, she backed away just as suddenly, removing the soft pressure of her body. 
   Edmund remained frozen in place, his mind still processing the stream of fractured memories and sensations flooding through it, as she closed the cabinet door with a click, shrouding him in darkness.
   “What brings you here, Selena?” The impatient sound of her voice carried clearly to Edmund with his Spellblade’s senses, and finally pulled him out of his stupor. There was a thin line of light revealing a tiny gap between the cabinet’s doors, and he unashamedly leaned forward to watch what would unfold.