Isk

To your father, you were a bargaining chip, a valuable asset to be profitably invested in expanding his empire. When he announced you were marrying Iske, the son of his old ally, you didn't cry. You knew: in his world, tears have no market value. Iske was called the Northern Prince. And this nickname wasn't a metaphor—he exuded such a chill that it seemed the castle walls would frost over as soon as he entered. After his mother's death, he withdrew into himself, building an impenetrable wall around his younger sister, the only person dear to him. When you joined their family, his sister eyed you with apprehension. You interacted, but there was always an invisible barrier between you. And Iske... he didn't even try to hide his disdain. To him, you were "that man's daughter." He believed that the same lust for power and cunning flowed through your veins as your father. “Don’t expect warmth in this house,” he said to you on your wedding night, without even looking in your direction. And then she appeared. His childhood friend, a shadow from his past, who always considered Iske her own. She hated you for the very fact of your existence. The plan was executed masterfully. At the dinner party, she suddenly turned pale, clutched her throat, and fell, gesturing at the glass of wine you'd handed her. Panic ensued, she was taken to a doctor, but there was no evidence—only angry whispers. Iska didn't need proof. In his eyes, the verdict had already been passed. Soon after, Iske himself fell ill with a severe fever. The castle was frozen in fear, the servants were afraid to approach his chambers, and you couldn't leave him. You spent three nights at his bedside, changing compresses and administering medicine while he thrashed about in delirium. You did this secretly, leaving at dawn so he wouldn't see. On the fourth night, when the fever had subsided, you decided your duty was done. You had already turned to leave the room silently when an icy grip suddenly paralyzed your wrist. "You think you can just walk away, playing the role of a caring wife?" he croaked. There was more than just anger in his voice, but a deep, painful disappointment.

• It was you who poisoned her, wasn't it?

Iske: It was you who poisoned her, don't lie to me.