The golden chalice crashed to the floor with a loud, metallic echo. Lorelai's gasp of surprise mingled with the gasps of the shocked onlookers as wine splattered across her gown. Fortunately, the dark fabric concealed the stains that now marred her dress. 

She instinctively whipped out the concealed blade hidden within her skirt, a sword-fighter to her core.

Who could it be? An assassin? Lorelai had not seen what had struck her chalice from her hand. It could have been a thrown knife or an arrow, but with her blade in hand, she felt better prepared for any potential confrontation as her eyes scanned the banquet hall.

“What is the meaning of this, Your Highness?” Duke Ashburn’s voice was level and calm, but it had a thunder behind them that Lorelai had never heard before. His anger was palpable, and Lorelai had never witnessed her father so serious, even on formal occasions.

Carlyle, the ever-troublesome troublemaker, stood at the center of this chaos, and Lorelai realized that it was not a physical object that had knocked the chalice from her hand. It was his mana that had knocked it away.

Of course it’s him. Lorelai suppressed a twinge of anger and annoyance that Carlyle did manage to ruin this day for her. She couldn’t believe she had forgotten about his unlucky presence in her celebration.

Carlyle, however, was unfazed by her father's anger and the growing discontent among the guests, and loudly declared, “Something was in Lady Lorelai's chalice. Something other than wine.”

The crowd fell into hushed murmurs as Carlyle's words settled in, followed by waves of panic as the guests realized they had consumed the same wine.

“Are you saying someone tried to poison my daughter?” Duke Ashburn's anger shifted to a new target.

“Do you have a taste tester?” Carlyle asked, as he strode over to where Lorelai was standing, then crouched down over the spilled wine on the floor.

Lorelai stepped away from him to give him space, still not trusting the situation enough to put it away. 

“Would an animal do?” Duke Ashburn asked, then after receiving an affirmative nod from Carlyle, beckoned to one of his men.

One of the Ashburn knights left and returned a few minutes later with a squeaking mouse in his hand. As Lorelai watched in silent trepidation, the knight lowered the mouse to the puddles of supposedly tainted wine on the floor and forced it to consume some of it.

Almost immediately, the mouse's squeaks turned shrill, then discordant. As the knight laid the mouse on the ground, Lorelai could see its tiny body spasming as its squeaks turned to wet choking noise.

“Is that blood?” The horrified voice of a female guest rose from the crowd, stirring more unease.

The mouse was indeed coughing up blood, its color as dark as the red wine that had filled Lorelai's chalice. She might have deluded herself into believing it was merely regurgitating the wine it had ingested if not for the unmistakable metallic scent in the air. One final spasm wracked the tiny creature's body, and then it lay still.

Lorelai couldn’t mask the look of horror on her face. If she had drunk the wine, it would have been her in the mouse’s position. Her who would have started seizing and coughing up blood.

And Carlyle’s face was indescribable. His face was stony and still, unnerving everyone who gazed upon him. The entire ballroom fell into a tense silence.

Finally, Duke Ashburn broke the silence. “Is there anyone else who drank the wine?”

Exclamations of affirmation rippled through the crowd, proving that others had consumed the poisoned wine. However, as everyone could clearly see, no one else seemed to be poisoned. No seizures or coughing up blood in sight, despite drinking the same wine. 

It can only mean one thing: only Lorelai’s wine was confirmed to be poisoned, as of now.

“Get a physician to check those who drank the wine and someone to identify the poison that was used. Detain everyone involved in serving the wine for interrogation and—”

“Duke,” Carlyle interjected.

Lorelai gaped at him, knowing her father's disdain for interruptions. Surprisingly, Duke Ashburn turned to listen to Carlyle's words.

“I don't think the wine was poisoned. I believe the chalice was.”

That makes sense, Lorelai realized. The guests drank out of glass flutes. Only the members of the Ashburn family drank out of gold chalices today because they were the hosts and the main focus of the banquet.

Amidst the chaos, Lorelai's thoughts swirled with confusion as she gazed at her reflection in the puddle of spilled wine. Who would attempt poisoning the newly anointed heir to the Ashburn Dukedom, and why? Was it a political enemy? But the Ashburn Duchy was relatively neutral when it came to the political affairs of the empire, despite being one of the most powerful noble families in the empire. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her paternal cousins Irene Ashburn and Claude Ashburn with uneasy expressions as they watched the messy scene. Lorelai's mood darkened further.

There's no way her cousins would poison her in an attempt to seize the Ashburn duchy, would they? Or is it possible…

Lorelai's gaze shifted to Lorenzo, who sat there, his untouched chalice before him, his face pale, and a horrified expression etched across his features.

No, it couldn't be Lorenzo. He was her brother, who she cherished more than anyone else. He had always professed his desire for freedom more than anything and had never shown any inclination of a desire to become the next duke. 

Duke Ashburn's voice cut through Lorelai's spiraling thoughts. “Yes, you must be right. But, just in case, detain everyone potentially responsible.”

He then addressed the crowd, “This celebration has come to an end early. You may return home now or stay here for medical attention, and all security measures will be increased, so rest assured that you will be safe here.”

With the celebrations ending prematurely, the guests took their cue and streamed out of the hall, with the exception of those who drank the wine and  sought medical attention before departing.

“Your Highness,” Duke Ashburn spoke to Carlyle in a hushed tone, ensuring the guests couldn't overhear. “Would you be willing to remain here at the Ashburn Duchy for a few days to aid in the investigation? Your testimony would be invaluable.”

Carlyle nodded in response, his gaze unwavering as it surveyed over what was left of the guests.

As the medics arrived at the scene, Duke Ashburn made his exit from the ballroom. Lorelai shot one look at her brother, who glanced back. As if an unspoken message passed between them, the two trailed after their father in unison.

“Father—” Lorelai began in a low voice, but her father placed a hand on her shoulder to silence her.

With a sorrowful and exhausted expression, he spoke, “I'm sorry, Lorelai. Today was meant to be an important day for you, but—”

This time, Lorelai interrupted. “I don't care about that, Father. I'm grateful to be alive.”

Rather than being reassured, Duke Ashburn’s expression darked even more.

“We won't let the culprits escape justice.” Duke Ashburn’s voice was stern. “Lorelai, as the heir to the Ashburn Duchy, your first task is to find the culprit and punish them severely.”

Lorelai hesitated for a moment but then nodded with determination. “Yes, Father.”

He continued, “And I want you to work closely with Prince Carlyle on this investigation.”

And just like that, Lorelai’s hopes were crushed again.