No one moved.
The broken bowl lay scattered across the marble floor, porridge seeping into the cracks like a stain that refused to disappear. The dead bird rested in its cage—small, fragile proof of what had just happened.
Poison.
Real.
Intentional.
And meant for her.
Or—
Elira's gaze shifted slightly.
For Kael.
The maids remained on their knees, trembling, their foreheads nearly touching the floor.
"P-Please, Your Highness… we swear we don't know…"
"It wasn't us…"
"Mercy, please…"
Their voices overlapped, desperate and panicked.
Elira said nothing.
Her small hand remained firmly on the cradle, her body positioned just slightly in front of it—as if shielding Kael even now.
Her silence was worse than anger.
Because it meant she was thinking.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Choosing.
The door suddenly opened.
This time, it wasn't hesitant.
It was sharp.
Decisive.
Armored footsteps echoed into the room.
A man entered—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark imperial armor edged with silver. A sword rested at his side, his posture straight, his presence commanding in a way that differed from the Emperor.
Less suffocating.
More… grounded.
Behind him, several guards followed.
The maids flinched.
Relief flickered across some of their faces.
Fear across others.
The man's sharp gaze swept the room once—taking in everything.
The broken tray.
The kneeling servants.
The dead bird.
Then—
He looked at her.
At the small princess standing calmly beside the cradle.
Their eyes met.
Something passed between them.
Recognition.
Not of identity—
But of awareness.
He stepped forward and dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness."
His voice was firm, respectful.
Not empty.
Not fake.
Elira watched him quietly.
"…Who are you?" she asked.
"Commander Cassian Verne," he replied. "Captain of the Imperial Guard."
His eyes flickered briefly toward the cage.
Then back to her.
"I was sent by His Majesty."
Of course.
The Emperor hadn't ignored it.
He had been waiting.
Watching.
Testing.
Elira's expression didn't change.
"Then you're late," she said softly.
A ripple of shock moved through the room.
One of the guards stiffened.
But Cassian—
Didn't react.
If anything, something almost imperceptible shifted in his gaze.
"…Yes," he said.
No excuse.
No defense.
Just acknowledgment.
Elira held his gaze for a moment longer.
Then—
She stepped aside.
Just slightly.
Enough to reveal the cradle fully.
Enough to show him Kael.
"And he would've died," she added quietly.
Cassian's eyes moved to the child.
For the briefest moment—
His expression hardened.
Not at the baby.
But at the situation.
"I see."
He stood.
Turned.
"Seal the room," he ordered.
Immediately, the guards moved.
Doors closed. Windows secured. No one allowed in or out.
The air shifted again—but this time, it felt controlled.
Contained.
Safe.
Cassian walked to the table, examining the remains of the food. His movements were precise, practiced.
"Bring a tester," he said.
One of the guards hesitated. "…Sir, the bird—"
"I want confirmation."
"Yes, sir!"
The guard rushed out.
The maids trembled harder now.
One of them collapsed fully, sobbing. "W-We didn't do anything… please…"
Cassian didn't even glance at her.
His attention returned to Elira.
"You handled this well, Your Highness."
Simple words.
But unlike the others—
They carried weight.
Respect.
Elira blinked slightly.
It was the first time since waking in this world that someone had spoken to her like that.
Not with pity.
Not with dismissal.
But as if she mattered.
"…I did what I had to," she said.
Cassian studied her.
A three-year-old child.
Calm in the face of poison.
Protective of her brother.
Unshaken.
This was no ordinary princess.
"…Indeed," he murmured.
Footsteps returned.
The guard re-entered with a man in plain robes—a food tester. Quickly, samples were taken, examined.
Moments later—
"Confirmed," the man said, voice tight. "Poison."
Silence.
Final.
Cassian turned.
His gaze swept across the kneeling maids.
Cold.
Sharp.
"Take them."
Screams erupted instantly.
"Please! We're innocent!"
"Have mercy!"
"We didn't—!"
They were dragged away regardless.
No resistance mattered.
No excuses saved them.
The door slammed shut behind them.
And just like that—
They were gone.
Silence returned once more.
But this time—
It was cleaner.
Cassian exhaled slowly, then turned back to Elira.
"This will not happen again," he said.
A promise.
Not empty.
Elira looked at him.
Studied him.
Measured him.
"…Can I trust you?" she asked.
Direct.
Blunt.
Dangerous.
A lesser man might've been offended.
But Cassian—
Paused.
Then answered honestly.
"No."
The guards shifted in shock.
But he continued.
"Not yet."
Elira's eyes didn't waver.
"…Then why are you here?"
Cassian met her gaze fully now.
"Because His Majesty ordered me to ensure the Third Prince lives."
A pause.
Then—
"And because," he added quietly, "someone in this palace has already decided he shouldn't."
The truth hung heavy between them.
Elira looked down at Kael.
Still small.
Still fragile.
Still in danger.
Then back at Cassian.
"…Then find them."
Her voice was soft.
But absolute.
Cassian held her gaze for a long moment.
Then—
He bowed his head slightly.
"As you command, Your Highness."
And in that moment—
An alliance was formed.
Fragile.
Uncertain.
But real.
Elira turned back to the cradle, gently adjusting Kael's blanket.
Her fingers lingered for a second.
Warm.
Alive.
Still here.
But now—
She understood something clearly.
This wasn't just survival anymore.
This was a battle.
And somewhere in the palace—
An enemy was already watching.
Waiting.
For their next move.