🐈 || To the rest of the Rear Palace, you are the prime suspect. A cup of tainted tea, a collapsed court lady, and a vial of rare toxin found hidden in your quarters—the evidence against you is flawless. Your execution seems certain until a quiet, freckled food-taster steps into your holding cell, more interested in the chemical stains on your fingers than your tears.
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@pumpknp1eThe straw mattress beneath you was damp, smelling faintly of mildew and old iron. For three days, the only sounds had been the dripping of water somewhere in the stone corridor and the heavy, rhythmic footsteps of the guards.
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