A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs novel Chapter 211

{Third Person}

~**^**~

The lower wing of ESA was silent—too silent.

A long corridor beneath the infirmary had been converted into a temporary holding area.

Enchantment seals glowed along the walls, pulsing softly, ensuring no one entered or left without authorization.

The waiters stood in a rigid line.

There were twelve of them—students and hired hands alike—each dressed in the same ceremonial black-and-silver uniform they had worn during the banquet.

Their faces ranged from pale confusion to visible terror.

At the far end of the room, the King stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his presence alone heavy enough to make the air feel thinner.

Beside him were the Vice Chancellor, two royal investigators, and several senior professors.

“The healer has confirmed it,” the Vice Chancellor said calmly, though her eyes were sharp. “The poison entered Elira Shaw’s system through a liquid consumed during the banquet.”

A murmur rippled through the line of waiters.

One of the investigators stepped forward. “Each of you will be questioned. Individually.”

The first few interrogations yielded nothing but trembling voices and half-coherent recollections.

“I only served water.”

“I never went near the finalists’ tables.”

“I followed the tray rotation exactly as instructed.”

After that, the investigator ordered, “Bring in the seventh.”

A young male waiter was ushered forward. His hands shook noticeably.

“You approached Elira Shaw,” the investigator said flatly. “Did you not?”

The boy swallowed. “Y–Yes. I congratulated her. Offered her a glass of wine.”

“Who gave you that tray?”

His eyes flickered just once. “I—I don’t know her name,” he stammered. “She said she was from the student council. Said it was an honour arrangement. That the finalists were to be treated specially.”

The room went still instantly.

“Describe her,” the Vice Chancellor said quietly.

The waiter hesitated, then spoke. “Brown hair. Sharp eyes. Carried herself like she owned the place.”

The King’s gaze hardened. “Did she touch the tray?”

“Yes,” the boy said quickly. “She adjusted the goblet. Said the first glass was reserved.”

The investigator turned. “Run a trace on the tray and goblet fragments.”

A few moments later, the enchantment-reader chimed.

“Confirmed,” the mage said. “Residual toxin signature. Highly refined. Academy-restricted compounds.”

The Vice Chancellor closed her eyes briefly. “This was no accident at all,” she said. “This was orchestration.”

—

Elsewhere in the academy, Regina Shaw sat very still.

She had chosen a quiet alcove overlooking the eastern gardens, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture flawless.

To anyone watching, she looked like a composed student council member awaiting updates.

Inside, her mind was unravelling. ’Liquid-based.They traced it that fast?’

Her nails bit into her palm.

She replayed the moment again—the waiter stepping forward, Elira accepting the glass, her friends distracted, the noise, the celebration.

’This shouldn’t have worked immediately. It should have been much later, after the banquet,’ she thought, panic creeping in.

Just then, her breath hitched. “They will know it was intentional,” she murmured. “They will know someone waited until after the combat.”

—

Back in the infirmary, the air was thick with magic and tension.

Elira’s fingers twitched, and Zenon noticed instantly.

“Elira,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low but urgent.

Her lashes fluttered. Her brows drew together as if she were fighting her way back through fire and smoke.

“She’s waking,” the healer announced. “Slowly.”

Elira’s eyes opened—glassier than usual, and unfocused. Then her gaze drifted until it found Zenon.

“…Zenon?” she rasped.

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