Chapter 174 Demand Entry
Wilma sat, still wearing the serene smile she mastered over decades of court life. “Thank you, Ava. Join me.”
Ava bowed her head and took the seat beside her. She poured the tea first. Wilma watched her quietly. Ava’s expression remained soft, warm even, but Wilma no longer saw innocence there. Only calculation…
Ava placed the cup gently before her. “This should help you relax, Your Grace. You look a little tense.”
Wilma picked up the teacup, bringing it close. The aroma was familiar… yet something felt off. Too faint. Slightly sweetened, though she never took her morning tea that way.
She paused.
A strange heaviness settled in her fingers — subtle, like a warning from instinct alone.
Ava noticed the hesitation and smiled. “Is something the matter, Your Grace? I checked it myself. It’s the same blend you always drink.”
Wilma returned the smile, calm and unshaken. “I see.”
But inside, her thoughts sharpened. ‘You dare try something this foolish in my own palace?’
She lifted the cup and let the steam brush her nose again. The scent was wrong. Too warm. Too smooth. Something added, something that didn’t belong.
Ava watched her too closely.
Wilma set the cup back down, slow and graceful.
“Ava,” she said gently, “why don’t you pour one for yourself as well? Such a pleasant morning deserves to be shared.”
Ava’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around the teapot. And Wilma’s suspicions solidified. But then Ava suddenly poured herself a cup, the same tea from the same pot, then lifted it with a soft smile. “Of course, Your Grace. I don’t mind sharing it with you.”
Wilma’s eyes narrowed a fraction, not enough to be noticed unless someone was watching closely. ‘Bold,’ she thought. ‘A little too bold.’
Ava took a slow sip, her expression unchanging. No flinch. No hesitation. No reaction. She drank it as if it were the safest thing in the world.
Wilma’s frown deepened for just a heartbeat. If Ava drank it willingly… then either she was innocent or she was very, very prepared.
Wilma could feel Ava’s gaze on her, soft, expectant. There was no sign of guilt. Only the quiet confidence of someone who thought she had full control of the situation.
Not taking the tea now would only raise suspicion. So Wilma lifted her own cup and drank. The moment the warm liquid touched her tongue, something subtle slid beneath the surface taste, barely noticeable, almost elegant in how well it blended in. She finished the sip.
Ava’s lashes lowered as she hid the small, triumphant curve of her lips behind her cup.
‘Perfect,’ Ava thought. Zander was right. ‘The suppression tonic makes me immune. She’ll fall into the influence before noon.’
It wasn’t a typical poison, nothing that would kill or make someone sick. It was something crafted to soften the mind, loosen thoughts, make a person’s will bend more easily. Like slipping threads into someone’s consciousness, one tug at a time.
Ava set her cup down gently, her smile sweet and polished. “How is it, Your Grace? Still warm enough?”
Wilma nodded once, keeping her expression serene. But deep inside, she felt a faint ripple—like a whisper brushing the edge of her mind.
A strange calmness. Heavy. Pulling at the corners of her thoughts.
Ava’s voice softened, almost melodic. “You’ve always trusted me, haven’t you, Your Grace?”
Wilma blinked. And that soft pull grew stronger. Ava’s smile widened ever so slightly, though she kept her tone warm. “Just relax. You look tired. Everything will be alright.”
Wilma tried to steady her breathing.
‘This girl… what have you done?’ But the warmth spreading through her veins made focusing harder than it should have been.
Ava reached out and gently fixed a stray strand of Wilma’s hair, her touch light, respectful…
“Don’t worry,” she whispered sweetly. “I only want what’s best for you.” And for the first time, Wilma wasn’t sure she could trust her own thoughts. Something was so wrong with her.
Ava kept her tone light as they continued their quiet breakfast, chatting about harmless things, court events, the weather, the palace staff. Her voice was steady, pleasant, almost soothing.
Wilma tried to follow the conversation, but something in her mind felt… dulled. As though her thoughts were wrapped in cotton. The edges of her awareness softened more and more with every passing minute.
Ava watched her closely. Then, while refilling Wilma’s cup, she spoke in a tone that sounded casual yet carefully threaded with suggestion.
“Your Grace… may I say something unfair?”
Wilma blinked slowly. “Go on.”
Ava’s eyes lowered, her voice turning gentle, almost sad. “You are the Queen Mother of this kingdom. The highest woman in the land. And yet… you’re not allowed to see Princess Riela? Your own daughter?”
Wilma froze. A faint ache rippled in her chest—protective, maternal. But the moment she tried to gather her thoughts, that dulling warmth spread again, smoothing out her reasoning.
Ava’s words slipped through the cracks.
“It doesn’t seem right, does it?” she continued softly. “No mother should be barred from her child.”
Wilma swallowed, her brows drawing together. “Gavriel… he said it’s for her safety.”
Ava shook her head slowly, sympathy painted delicately across her features. “Safety is one thing. Being kept away entirely… that feels wrong. And people are talking, Your Grace. They wonder why the Queen Mother can’t even enter her daughter’s cottage.”
Her voice lowered, warm, persuasive.
“You have the authority. You can see her whenever you wish. No one should dare stop you.”
Wilma inhaled unsteadily. The idea felt heavy… but reasonable and natural. And the longer Ava spoke, the more it felt like her own thought, not Ava’s.
“Yes…” Wilma murmured. “I am the Queen Mother.”
Ava’s lips curved slightly. “Exactly. And if they will not open the doors for you… then you must assert your position. Demand entry. For Riela’s sake.”
Wilma nodded slowly, too slowly. “I… should see her.”
“You should,” Ava whispered. “Right now.”
Wilma stood, her mind foggy but her resolve strangely firm. Ava rose beside her, poised and graceful as ever.
“Let’s go,” Wilma said. “I want to see my daughter.”
Ava smiled politely. “I’ll accompany you, Your Grace.”
When they reached Riela’s cottage, the guards straightened immediately. Their expressions were respectful, yet troubled.
“Your Grace,” the guard captain said, bowing. “We weren’t informed—”
Wilma lifted her chin, speaking with the commanding authority she had held for decades. “Open the door. I will see my daughter.”
The guards exchanged tense glances. “But… per the Alpha King’s direct—”
“This is my order,” she snapped sharply, the pressure in her mind pushing her forward. “I am the Queen Mother. Stand aside.”
The guards hesitated only a moment before obeying. The heavy lock was unlatched. The door was pushed open. And Wilma stepped inside… only for her breath to stop cold.
The cottage was empty, no trace of Riela at all.
A hollow silence filled the room. Wilma’s heart dropped. “Where… where is she?”
Behind her, Ava’s expression shifted in an instant. She stepped forward, voice ringing across the cottage. “Where is Princess Riela?!”