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Chapter 24
Hm?
Haven’t I seen this play out somewhere before?
Maybe that was why I wasn’t particularly surprised, though Rizel and the Empress both looked at Vincent with startled eyes.
“Oh dear, my hand slipped.”
Even that line I’d heard before.
“Pfft…”
I barely managed to stifle my laughter, quickly turning my gaze away.
Holding the sound back was no easy feat, but somehow, I succeeded.
Vincent shook his hand gracefully and smiled, then returned to his seat.
Watching him, the thought struck me.
Vincent knows what happened before the regression.
After the meal with the Emperor, Amelia had followed the Empress Consort, while Vincent must have stopped by the Empress’s quarters.
And he would have drunk tea.
That bitter tea.
Though the novel never revealed what followed, I could make an educated guess.
That memory I’d glimpsed the Empress clutching her stomach in pain after drinking that very tea Vincent must have witnessed it firsthand before he regressed.
He might not have been certain the tea was the culprit, but it seemed clear he hadn’t wanted her to drink it.
That must have been why he acted as he did.
Still, to pull the exact same stunt on me?
The Empress glanced between the fallen teapot and the Crown Prince, then addressed Lady Rizel Berelly, who stood frozen in place.
“Clean it up.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty!”
At last, Rizel moved, and the maids behind her bowed as they hurried to gather the broken pieces.
“I shall… bring another pot at once.”
Before she could, I quickly cut in.
“Your Majesty, would you care to try something I brought with me?”
“…Hm?”
Both the Empress and Vincent turned curious eyes on me.
From the rattan basket, I pulled out a still-warm bowl and a glass jar.
I ladled a bit into the cup before the Empress.
I hadn’t asked permission.
She lifted the cup and peered inside, frowning slightly at the thick, porridge-like consistency.
“What is this?
It smells of apples.”
“It’s porridge.
Oatmeal cooked with apples.”
At my answer, Rizel scowled.
“How dare you offer Her Majesty such a lowly dish?
And who knows if it’s safe?
Your Majesty, allow me to prepare fresh tea.”
It was true that porridge was the fare of commoners.
But unsafe?
Was she implying I’d poisoned it?
Well… I had done that once before.
I instinctively glanced at Vincent.
His eyes met mine, and he gave me a faint smile.
“Surely my fiancée would not serve Her Majesty anything harmful.”
“Of… of course not.”
Whether or not he meant it, at least he was taking my side.
To prove it, I lifted the cup and took a spoonful myself.
Just plain oatmeal with the faint sweetness of apples.
The Empress, watching me, finally dipped her spoon and tasted it.
I held my breath as she swallowed, then again, and again.
Only when she had taken a third and fourth bite did my tension ease.
Rizel remained stiff-lipped, watching anxiously.
After five spoonfuls, the Empress set the cup down and dabbed her lips.
“Apple porridge.
It’s been a long time.”
“You’ve had it before, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.
When I was very young and fell ill, my nursemaid would secretly cook it for me when I refused to eat.
Where did you learn of it, Lady?”
In truth, porridge was either for the poor or for children just being weaned.
It never graced the tables of nobility, unless heavily dressed up with expensive ingredients.
“My mother used to make it for me when I was little.
I can’t taste hers anymore… but when I heard you were unwell, I tried to recreate it as best I could.”
“Curiously enough, it tastes much like what I once had.”
The Empress smiled faintly and nodded.
That was, of course, a lie.
Amelia had been too poor to afford even porridge as a child.
As for me, I’d never cared for it.
I only remembered bags of oatmeal rotting away in the pantry because I couldn’t bring myself to eat them.
No the idea had come from the original story.
Much later than this moment, the heroine had gained the Empress’s favour when apple porridge appeared on her table.
The heroine hadn’t brought it herself, of course, but had asked the palace cook to prepare it.
After she left, the Empress had eaten it and smiled with satisfaction.
That scene had stuck with me.
Now, I’d stolen that chance.
One less advantage for the future heroine, but… what else could I do?
I need to survive first.
The heroine would thrive without the Empress’s goodwill.
But me?
My life was hanging by a thread.
The Empress spooned up another bite, while Rizel looked on in dismay.
“Your Majesty, are you well?
It may upset your stomach if you eat too much.”
“Mmm.
True, I must be careful.
Usually I can’t even stomach this much, but this… sits well.”
I quickly chimed in.
“I’m glad it agrees with you.
Shall I prepare it for you from time to time?”
“That would be too troublesome for you.”
Still, she did not firmly refuse.
Rizel hurried to interject.
“Indeed, we mustn’t impose upon Lady Wentworth.
If it pleases Your Majesty, I’ll instruct the palace cook to prepare it.”
The Empress gave her no reply, simply set her spoon down with a soft click.
“Thank you, Lady.
It was well enjoyed.”
“It’s my honour that you would eat it, Your Majesty.”
Next, I poured the contents of the glass jar into her cup, and another for the Crown Prince.
The tea was barely warm, carrying a bright fragrance perfect for sipping.
This one wasn’t from the novel I’d come up with it myself, after seeing something in the gardens.
Before my possession, I’d often drunk it during seasonal changes, when I was prone to coughing.
As the Crown Prince reached for his cup, he suddenly froze.
Ah.
The porridge was one thing, but the tea, of course, would unsettle him.
After all, before the regression, Amelia’s tea had killed him.
The Empress spoke before he could.
“What tea is this?”
“Quince tea, Your Majesty.”
“Quince?
You make tea from quince?”
“From such astringent fruit?
Impossible…” Rizel’s face twisted in disbelief.
It was true that fruit teas were rare here, and when they did appear, they were made from sweet fruits, usually chilled.
Quince, considered too tart, was planted only as decoration.
Hmph.
What do you know of quince?
I smiled demurely, glancing at Vincent, and took the first sip myself.
See?
Perfectly fine.
“I never imagined quince could make such tea.”
The Empress reached for her cup without hesitation.
She was braver than expected.
“Mother” Vincent called sharply.
But thankfully, he didn’t dash it from her hand as he had Rizel’s.
The Empress sipped, then smiled softly.
“Such flavour from quince alone?”
“I added a little honey.”
“Ah, that explains it.
Delicious.”
Watching her satisfied expression, Vincent cautiously drank as well, then took a second sip.
Relief flickered across his face.
I couldn’t help a small laugh inside.
I already knew the Empress had a sweet tooth she simply concealed it behind dignity and restraint.
When she finished her cup, her gaze softened on me.
Her eyes were gentler now, far warmer than when we had begun.
Yes, food had a way of softening even the hardest of hearts.
But then her smile faded, her tone turning firm.
“Lady Wentworth.
I know why your father sought to bind
your family to Vincent with this engagement.”
“……”
I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.
“The Wentworths are like a double-edged blade.
If aligned with us, they could be a powerful shield for Vincent.
But if displeased… they could tighten a noose around his very throat.”
