The Swordswoman's Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 339 The Recklessness of Youth

Finished

Morning came, the snow had ceased, and crimson plum blossoms unfurled, strikingly vibrant against the icy landscape.

Hazel held a pair of scissors, while Hattie carried a basket. As Hattic pressed down a branch, it sprang back, shaking off a flurry of snow that landed straight onto Hazel’s face. Hazel gasped, then glared, “Oh, you’re dead meat now!”

A brief chase ensued before they settled back into quietly trimming the branches.

Lowering her voice, Hattie muttered, “What a pity–she actually survived.”

“I know, right? The dose should’ve been enough.”

“Well, lucky her. But she shouldn’t celebrate too soon. Life is long, let’s see how many more times she can escape. Tomorrow, I’ll increase the dosage.”

will be waking soon.”

“Enough talking. Let’s go–our lady will be waking soon.”

They gathered the freshly cut blossoms into the basket and made their way back to Ningser Pavilion.

Unbeknownst to them, three young maids had also been trimming the plum trees nearby. They exchanged wide–eyed, alarmed glances, too shocked to speak, before silently going their separate ways.

Cristina had just woken up, still plagued by the lingering effects of the poison–her head pounded, her stomach churned, nausea clawing at her throat.

A maid helped her drink the antidote, and only then did she feel a sliver of relief. But no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t understand–how had she been poisoned with arsenic?

The physician who examined her the night before assured her that her wounds weren’t serious. After prescribing a tonic to replenish her strength, she drank the medicine and drifted to sleep. Then came the searing pain in her gut. She had immediately sent for Agnes, who, upon arriving, declared that she had been poisoned. The pain had rendered Cristina unconscious soon after. When she awoke, her maids informed her that Agnes, believing she had attempted suicide again, had made a huge commotion, only for Isolde to coldly shut it down, leaving her humiliated.

Fury and confusion twisted inside Cristina. She despised Isolde–but she also couldn’t figure out how she had been poisoned. There was no arsenic in her chambers.

Just then, her maid Evie burst in, her forehead dusted with melting snow. She dropped a basket onto the table, leaned in, and whispered, “My lady, I know who poisoned you.”

Cristina’s head snapped up. “Who?”

“I overheard something while picking plum blossoms near Ningser Pavilion. Isolde’s maids were talking. They said it was such a shame that you didn’t die and that they’d simply increase the dosage tomorrow.”

Cristina’s vision swam with rage. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. Isolde—she had only just married into the household, and she was already trying to kill her?

voice was a whisper of fury.

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The Recklessness of

her teeth, gripping the bed canopy for

going? You’re in no state to face her now,” Evie

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poison me–I won’t let this slide. Demi, go back to my

lady.” One of the maids immediately rushed

rage. “Isolde, this isn’t over.”

Ningser Pavilion

before they knew it, the sun was already high in

doors, turning away every visitor. “They

though Lord Allan is already awake. The newlyweds must pay

be gathering for the ceremony. There’s no rush just

never seen a bride and groom deal with concubine drama before consummating their

for a reason.”

It’s time to set

to inquire about the night. Esme reassured them that everything had gone well and

through the cracks in the doors and windows.

Oliver murmured, pulling her back under the covers the moment he saw her

curling up against him. The firewalls kept the room warm, but her exposed limbs

around her and

should get up. There are people waiting. We need to serve coffee to the elders today.” Isolde rested her chin on his chest, absentmindedly twirling a lock of his hair before tracing the shape of his eyebrows with her

her. He knew how exhausting these formalities would

smile. “There are people in the family who truly care for you. Paying respects

gazed at her–sleepy, still slightly groggy, her long

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Recklessness of

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“Absolutely not! The

Oliver smirked, flipping

and I care about my

got married, and you’re already rejecting me.