The sweet venom Chapter 7: 6

Read chapter 7 of The sweet venom by aspa201 on NovelPedia.

The marquis stood in the imposing audience hall, surrounded by rich velvet tapestries and symbols of power that adorned the walls, bearing witness to the grandeur of the Empire. At the center of the room, the Emperor sat on his throne. His black hair, carefully combed, and his gray eyes, characteristic of the imperial family, gave him an air of majesty and authority. The Emperor, with his benevolent yet attentive demeanor, listened to the marquis's report on the new equipment destined for the soldiers. His voice resonated in the air, full of conviction, as he outlined the details of his recent negotiations. The Emperor nodded, visibly satisfied. "Excellent work, dear marquis. The situation at the border requires all the support possible." As the meeting drew to a close, the marquis hesitated for a moment, his heart quickening. "Your Majesty", I have one last request to make." "I'm listening." "My daughter, Helia, would like to participate in the research on the antidote." The Emperor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Ah, yes, your daughter... You told me she studied science, is that right?" "Yes, she was even the top of her class," replied the marquis, a mix of pride and concern in his voice. "Very well, she can participate," declared the Emperor with a smile. "Why refuse such a valuable help?" "I thank you, Your Majesty," the marquis replied, relieved but still worried. "No need to thank me," continued the Emperor. "Any help in managing the crisis is welcome. A supply convoy will depart in three days under my son's directive. Your daughter can join it." At these words, the marquis turned pale, unable to hide his astonishment. "Excuse me, depart? Pa... depart to the borders?" The Emperor nodded, realizing the marquis's surprise. "Yes, it's a common practice. For scientists, it's essential to conduct research on site. Samples and observations taken elsewhere are often insufficient." Seeing the concern spread across the marquis's face, the Emperor continued reassuringly. "Don't worry, she will only go to the military camp and will be constantly surrounded by imperial knights. They will prioritize her protection in case of any issues." Once the meeting was over, he left the audience, regret weighing heavily on his heart. He had been carried away by his daughter's enthusiasm without fully considering the consequences of his decision. Now, he realized the extent of the risk he had taken by allowing her to participate in the research. But he resigned himself to his fate: he had already communicated his approval to the Emperor. When he returned home, he found her in the garden. She was sitting at a small stone table, several books open before her, and a notebook filled with notes beside her. She was absentmindedly sipping tea, lost in thought, scribbling on a sheet of paper with fierce concentration. Her light brown hair, slightly tousled by the breeze, caught the sunlight, forming a golden halo around her. The marquis stopped for a moment, struck by a troubling resemblance. Every time he looked at his daughter, pain pierced him, for he saw his late wife in her. That same posture, that same bright, determined gaze. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories, but the pain remained, omnipresent. She was the first to notice him. She looked up, her serious and focused features softening slightly at the sight of her father. "Father, have you just returned from your meeting with the Emperor?" she asked, her tone measured but betraying a hint of impatience. She clearly awaited an answer. The marquis briefly averted his gaze before responding. He didn't like seeing that spark of hope in his daughter's eyes, for he knew that by allowing her to expose herself to this danger, he was betraying his role as her protector. Yet, he hated himself even more for not daring to act the authoritarian father, preferring to avoid any confrontation. It was easier to remain distant, to give in to her enthusiasm, than to risk hurting her by denying what