Of course, it later occurred to Lorelai that her father asked her to work with Carlyle not because he trusted Carlyle, but because of the opposite.

The thought came to her while she was soaking in her bath, after she’d finished her dinner in her room later that evening. With a full stomach and the day's excitement waning fading from her, her mind finally became clear.

How had Carlyle detected the poison in her chalice? Magic? Even if he claimed it was magic, could she believe him? Had he assisted her out of the kindness of his heart? 

No, Lorelai had another theory. What if Carlyle himself had poisoned her wine?  It wouldn’t be difficult, with his power. All it took was a simple teleportation of poison from a bottle to her chalice. Then, he could step in and play savior, earning the gratitude and favor of the Ashburns. If he succeeded, the Ashburn family's influence could tip the scales in his favor, pitting him evenly against his brother, the crown prince.

The crown prince, Theodore Argent, was the sole child of the first empress, who died from illness when Theodore was a mere infant. Lorelai had met him a few times, including during her knighthood ceremony. He was arrogant and prideful, but also charismatic and decisive, befitting of his title as crown prince. Theodore stood first in line to the throne and garnered the support of most nobles. 

Still, it wasn't unheard of for a younger member of the imperial family to be anointed heir instead of the eldest. It typically occurred when the younger member was undeniably more suitable for the throne or possessed stronger backing, which is what could happen if Carlyle gained an alliance with the Ashburn family.

Yes, that’s the most likely reason. But Lorelai’s mind was plagued by another thought. If not Carlyle, who else?

Lorenzo? Irene? Claude? Or someone else, someone in this duchy who didn’t approve of her becoming the next duchess? Or could it be someone with personal motives, like revenge?

These thoughts haunted her mind until she succumbed to a restless sleep.

The following day, Lorelai woke early, as bright and alert as the sun itself, a testament to her disciplined habits instilled during her rigorous knighthood training. She went down to the dining room to have breakfast alone as Lorenzo preferred the luxury of a few more hours of sleep while her father preferred a later, more leisurely breakfast, contenting himself with a cup of coffee for now.

To her surprise, she wasn’t alone this time.

Carlyle Argent had already taken a seat at the table, his dark eyes briefly flicking in her direction when he acknowledged her presence. Didn’t the other nobles call his black eyes accursed? An ill omen or bad luck?

“Good morning, Lady Ashburn,” he greeted, sipping coffee from his cup.

Momentarily taken aback by her unexpected guest, Lorelai quickly regained her composure and seated herself as far from him as the long table allowed, which wasn’t very far as he had chosen to sit directly in the middle of the long table.

Couldn’t he have sat on the opposite end instead?

“Your Highness,” Lorelai nodded in response. “What a surprise to find you up so early.”

She frowned as she studied his clothes. His cravat hung untucked from his vest, a rather careless appearance for an imperial prince. While his clothes were of the finest quality, they did not appear to be tailored in Ashburn, indicating that the Ashburn servants hadn't prepared them. They didn't align with her father's or Lorenzo's style either, so they couldn't have been borrowed from either of them. 

Then, were these his own clothes? They weren't the same as the ones he had worn the day before, so it must be another set. Had he packed them in advance? For this scheme?

“Did you pack your clothes for your trip here?” Lorelai couldn’t help but ask. Something wasn’t right.

“Of course not," Carlyle refuted. "Why would I pack extra clothes when I only expected to be here for a day? I teleported them over last night.”

“I see.” Lorelai wasn’t sure how to feel. Was she disappointed that she had one less piece of evidence to implicate him in this scheme? Embarrassed that he saw through her thoughts? Or relieved that he might actually be innocent?

She wasn't entirely sure what to expect from him, but though he was as aloof as the rumors portrayed him to be, she found he wasn't quite the cruel monster the rumors had painted. 

No, she won’t get fooled by a first impression like this. He could be putting on an act to let her guard down.

“Will your father be joining us, or…?” Carlyle began but left the question hanging, observing her expectantly.

It took her a moment to realize he was asking her this because he expected to be interrogated over what happened last night and, as the heir, her authority ranked just below her father's.

“No, my father has entrusted me with this investigation,” Lorelai informed him, a smile tugging at her lips. “So I'm afraid you'll have to contend with me.”

Carlyle scrutinized her with an unreadable face for a brief moment, just long enough to make her slightly uneasy. A sly smile gradually spread across his face. “Oh, I'd be delighted, Lady Lorelai.”

Lorelai was unnerved by his lack of reaction. He seemed to be a little too relaxed in a situation like this. Was he looking down on her? Was that why he didn't seem to take this as seriously as last night? 

No, she realized that he was showing her his true self–a self-satisfied troublemaker who didn't care for appearances or reputation.

“Please take this matter seriously,” Lorelai reprimanded.

“What makes you think I'm not?” Carlyle retorted, rendering Lorelai almost speechless from annoyance.

“How did you detect the poison in my chalice last night?” Lorelai finally asked, carefully observing him for any sign of falsehood.

Carlyle raised an eyebrow as he pondered deeply in thought before answering in a calm, indifferent voice. “Magic?” It came out as more of a question than an answer. 

Lorelai narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward toward him. “Magic?” 

Of course he would say that. There was no way to prove him wrong as Lorelai didn’t have any magic herself. But if he was lying, then he had a whole night to come up with a story and he still came forward with this ridiculous story.

“Or should I call it intuition?” Carlyle offered another answer when he sensed Lorelai’s displeasure.

Neither were good answers, in Lorelai’s opinion.

“Are you saying that your gut instincts notified you about the poison in my chalice?” Lorelai questioned incredulously. “Then why didn't my instincts warn me?”

Carlyle nonchalantly shrugged, playing up the mystery. “Maybe I'm secretly clairvoyant. I've heard it's not impossible among mages.”

Sure, if Carlyle can see the future, then Lorelai will conquer the Argent Empire and make herself the empress regnant.

No, that was a joke. Lorelai doesn’t believe Carlyle’s word one bit, even though he doesn’t betray any hint of a lie.

“You knew the poison was in the chalice, not the wine.”

“Common sense," Carlyle replied casually. “I mean, everyone drank the same wine, right? Only yours and your brother's were poisoned, not even the Duke who drank from the same bottle as you.”

“What do you mean, Lorenzo’s chalice was poisoned?” Lorelai stood up at this sudden information.

Carlyle hesitated briefly, caught off guard by her question. “Oh, did I forget to mention that?”

“Are you going to say it’s your intuition again?” Lorelai pressed. “Then why didn’t you knock the chalice out of his hand like you did with mine?”

Carlyle was silent.

Lorelai didn't relent. “You're lying, right? His chalice wasn't poisoned, only mine was. Did you poison it yourself? So you could play savior and gain the favor of the Ashburn family, right? Sounds like something that befits your reputation.”

“No, Lorelai! I would never hurt you!” Carlyle blurted out, his composure lost for a brief moment and forgot to address her as Lady Lorelai.

Just as the tension between them peaked, a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. They both awkwardly settled back in their seats, chair legs squeaking as chairs are scooted closer to the table. They pretended to be engrossed in their breakfast as if the argument between them never happened.

And yet, something had happened. Carlyle’s mask had slipped, revealing a brief glimmer of vulnerability. 

“Come in.” Lorelai responded in a calm and level voice.

The duke’s personal aide entered the room with a document in hand. “Your Grace, I brought the physicians' report that you instructed me to obtain last night.”

“Ah. Thank you, Alfred.” Lorelai had forgotten that she instructed her father’s aide to collect the physicians’ report from the poisoning incident last night and bring them to her first thing in the morning.

It also took a moment to get used to the new form of address. 

Lorelai opened the document, her breath catching as her eyes scanned the contents.

“What's wrong?” Carlyle asked nonchalantly, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Lorelai glared at him. “You were right. Lorenzo's chalice was poisoned as well, and nobody else's was.”

Carlyle's lips curled into a faint smile.