Chapter 30 30
Jasmine's POV:
I couldn't help but revel in the delicious look of utter humiliation etched across Amelia's face. To me, it was a small victory in my grand scheme, and a reminder that she didn't belong here, meddling in my world, and stealing the attention that should have been mine.
Denary was mine to charm, mine to ensnare, and this little nobody thought she could waltz in with her innocent smiles and domestic charms?
So, hurting her with my words was like a balm to my wounded pride and I could have laughed out loud, but no, I had to play the part. So, as satisfying as it was, I had to be careful. I couldn't have her suspecting me when the real troubles began, the ones I had meticulously planned to unravel her perfect little life.
If she started linking every misfortune and every mishap to me, it would ruin everything. And since that numbskull had revealed everything to Denary, who forced me to apologize and stay away from Amelia, I have to stay on the low for a while before striking again.
So, I needed to keep her at arm's length, distant yet sprinkled with just enough feigned friendliness to throw her off. A smile here, a concerned word there, enough to make her think I was an ally, or at least not an enemy. That way, when the storms hit, she'd blame fate, or bad luck, or anyone but me.
The key was believable detachment, laced with superficial warmth so that she would trust me just enough not to doubt me. With that in mind, I smirked inwardly but schooled my features into a mask of faux concern which made my stomach twist with disdain for how effortlessly beautiful she looked.
"Oh, Amelia.” I said, my voice dripping with fabricated sympathy. "I didn't mean it in a bad way at all. What I meant was, if you knew you weren't good at it, you should have stayed behind because you could have gotten badly injured." Then I paused, letting my eyes widen as if the thought horrified me.
"You know, I've had friends who got injured beyond imagination because they slipped and fell while horse riding. That's why I said you shouldn't have insisted on coming along. I mean, you look like you enjoy cooking, so I believe it's better you cook or do the things you can actually do than risking getting injured. After all, we are all women, and it's not really nice for women to have visible scars."
Amelia blinked at me, her brow furrowing in confusion, as if she were trying to reconcile my words with the sting of my earlier jabs. For a moment, she just stood there, her hands dusted with flour, a wooden spoon paused mid-stir in the pot before her.
Then, slowly, a smile curved her lips. "Oh, thank you.” She replied, sounding as though she wasn't quite sure if gratitude was the right response but felt obligated to offer it anyway.
I nodded graciously, forcing my lips into a warm curve that didn't reach my eyes. “So, what are you doing here?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the array of chopped vegetables and bubbling pots on the stove.
Amelia glanced down at her work. "I'm preparing dinner.” She replied, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Oh, you're cooking for Denary?" I inquired, tilting my head with feigned innocence, though inside I seethed at the thought of her catering to him but she shook her head, her smile widening just a second. "Oh no, I'm cooking for everyone."
I raised an eyebrow, injecting a note of playful surprise into my tone. "Am I included?" Amelia nodded, her eyes meeting mine with that infuriating sincerity. "Yes, you're included."
"Can I help in any way?" I offered, though the words tasted like ash in my mouth because the last thing I wanted was to dirty my hands in her domain, but appearances mattered.
Amelia waved a hand dismissively, still smiling. "There won't be any need for that. Mei is already helping me out."
At the mention of her name, Mei, the mousy little maid with her wide eyes and perpetual air of nervousness, bowed slightly toward me, her smile awkward and forced, as if she sensed the undercurrent of tension but didn't dare acknowledge it.
I met her gaze for a brief second, then turned on my heel and left the kitchen without another word, my skirts swishing against the stone floor as I strode down the hallway. As I walked, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightning and I quickened my pace, rushing outside toward the stables.
The smell of hay and manure assaulted my senses as I entered, but I ignored it, scanning for the servant who'd done my bidding earlier with the loose rein on Amelia's horse. "Where's Jeffrey?" I demanded of a nearby stable hand, who was mucking out a stall.
The man straightened, holding his nose against the stench as he stepped outside to call. "Jeffrey! Lady Jasmine wants you!" Soon enough, Jeffrey emerged from the shadows, his rough features etched with caution.
He was a burly man, with callused hands and a perpetual squint, loyal only because I paid him well and threatened him better after the stableman who tampered with Amelia's horse, ratted me out and got exiled by Denary.
“My lady." He grunted, bowing slightly. "I need laxatives." I said bluntly, keeping my voice low. "Something to lace someone's food with."
He scratched his beard, frowning. "I can get that, but the laxatives we use on horses have a strange taste so a living person will detect it right away."
‘Damn it!’ I muttered under my breath, but then another spark ignited in my mind. "Fine, go to the clinic instead. Tell them you're constipated and need some for yourself. I'll send my maid to collect it from you soon."
He nodded, his expression unchanging. "As you wish, my lady." Satisfied, I turned and rushed back inside and made my way to my chambers.
The room was lavishly appointed with silk curtains, a four-poster bed piled with plush pillows, a vanity cluttered with perfumes and jewels but it felt like a cage sometimes, especially with incompetent fools like Suzanne around. And there she was, bent over on her hands and knees, peering under the bed like a lost puppy.
"Such an incompetent fool!" I muttered loud enough for her to hear and she jerked upright, her face flushing as she bowed slightly. "Are you seriously still looking for that ring I threw at you?"
Suzanne stammered, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, my lady. I just... I thought I could find it." I hissed through my teeth, waving a dismissive hand. "You can do that later. For now, go to the stables and wait there until someone hands you something. Then come back here with any of the maids that came with me from my father's house."
She nodded vigorously. "Yes, my lady." And with that, she scurried out, her footsteps fading down the hall while I paced the room, my mind racing through the plan, envisioning Amelia's discomfort, and the chaos it would sow.
About ten minutes later, far too long for my patience, Suzanne returned, trailing a slight girl of about fifteen behind her. The child had wide, frightened eyes and trembling hands, her simple maid's uniform hanging loosely on her frame.
"Why did you waste so much time?" I snapped at Suzanne, my anger flaring as I snatched the pouch from her grasp. "I'm sorry, my lady.” Suzanne murmured, bowing again.
I stared at the pouch, feeling its weight in my palm then turning to the little girl, I fixed her with a stern gaze. "You'll follow me to the kitchen, and wait outside until I get Amelia away while you take Amelia's maid away. Keep her occupied long enough for Suzanne to pour this into the food that's being cooked."
The girl's eyes widened in terror, her face paling and she shook her head slightly, her voice a whisper. "But... my lady..."
I softened my tone just a second, though irritation bubbled beneath. "Don't be scared, it's not poison. I just want to make the food taste different." But she still looked petrified, her hands twisting in her apron.
“Remember that you are here because I selected you out of all the servants. If not, you would have been sold off. So if you resist, or if you decide not to do it, I'll sell you off to a brothel or any old man in need of a breeder."
Seeing the fight drain from her, I smiled as her shoulders slumped and she stretched out her hands while I placed the pouch into them, and she took it, her fingers closing around it tightly. "Good." I said, then I turned to Suzanne.
"Follow us to the kitchen, but stay at a corner and wait till both of us have gotten Amelia and her maid out of the kitchen before you put it into the food. And make sure no one sees you."
Suzanne nodded silently, and with that, the girl and I left the room, stepping into the dimly lit hallway and I turned to the girl, my voice a hushed command. "The best way to get Mei out of the kitchen is to look really scared and ask her any question related to your menstrual period. Tell her that you just started having your menstrual flow and you know nothing about it, and you want her assistance. But that's after I have taken Amelia outside."
She nodded, her face ashen, but she didn't argue and once we reached, I made the girl wait in a shadowed alcove nearby. Then, composing myself, I stepped inside to see Amelia stirring a pot, and Mei chopping herbs beside her. "Amelia." I said, injecting urgency into my tone. "I would like to talk to you."
She looked up, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Sure.” She replied, setting down the spoon. "But I want us to talk in private." I added. "Can we go outside the kitchen?"
Amelia hesitated for a split second, then nodded. "Mei, watch over the food so that it doesn't get burnt." She instructed her maid, and Mei bobbed her head. "Yes, miss."
Amelia and I stepped out, and I led her down the hallway, our footsteps muffled on the carpeted floor. The air grew cooler as we turned a corner, the kitchen passage vanishing from view behind us. Finally, in a quiet alcove lit by a flickering torch, I stopped and turned to her.
“Actually, I called you out here to apologize." I said and Amelia's brow furrowed again, her head tilting in genuine confusion. "Why are you apologizing?"