Countess Rubina was not a person to be trifled with. If her son was fierce as a wolf, the Countess was a great tiger that had descended from the mountains.
She struck the wine glass her son had slammed onto the table with the edge of her hand, sending it skidding across the surface.
— Clang!
The glass hit the marble floor, shattering into shards with a deafening crash. She stepped over the debris, pushed her face close to her son’s, and locked eyes with him.
“You, the one who came from my own womb, how dare you raise your voice at your mother.”
They were so close that their breath mingled. Countess Rubina ferociously pressured Cesare, who remained motionless, his jaw set.
“You are going to be king. Do not dare tell me you cannot. If it is impossible, you make it possible, you useless fool!”
Standing upright, Countess Rubina began to pace the parlor, her heels clicking sharply against the stone.
“I hear rumors that Her Majesty intends to bestow the ‘Heart of the Blue Deep’ upon that girl. The ‘Heart of the Blue Deep,’ of all things! Do you know why I wanted it so badly?”
“I know, I know. Your astrologer said—”
“Cut that cynical tone!”
Countess Rubina spun toward her son, eyes burning with fury.
“It was prophesied that the one who possesses the ‘Heart of the Blue Deep’ will become the king. The one who foretold everything—that I would become the King’s woman, that you would be born a son—that same person said so.”
She approached him again, pressing a sharp finger hard against his chest. The force sent Cesare’s upper body reeling back.
“It is all for you. Bring me the ‘Heart of the Blue Deep.’”
* * *
The King’s royal gift was to be received at the Royal Palace during an audience with the Queen. While it was standard for the King to bestow such honors personally, Queen Marguerite had chosen to preside over the charity in his stead, owing to the schedule of Leo III and his urgent state meetings.
Lucrezia, already humiliated by Queen Marguerite during their last encounter, had been scolded once more by Cardinal Del Mare following the incident where Ariadne defeated the Apostle of Acereto.
“The entire San Carlo saw it! The child had nothing to wear and looked like a beggar!”
“Husband, I gave her everything I could! I even provided gold earrings!”
“Why are you using such excuses? You have brought shame upon my name, and you have the nerve to speak back? Forget that—are you actually suggesting that what you allowed Ariadne to wear was fit for public view?”
The two engaged in a tense back-and-forth. From Lucrezia’s perspective, she felt entirely wronged, but when Cardinal Del Mare insisted on inspecting Ariadne’s closet, they were forced to climb to the third-floor attic. The moment he flung open the second daughter’s shabby wardrobe, Lucrezia had no choice but to fall silent before the Cardinal’s glare.
There were only three dresses hanging in Ariadne’s closet. A cream-colored outdoor dress she had worn to the Queen’s mass, one black dress she had worn to the Great Basilica of San Ercole, and finally, a house dress entirely unsuitable for an appearance at court.
She did not even possess a pair of shoes beyond the worn, round-toed ones she had brought from the farm. Ariadne had worn those same shoes to the garden, to the Grand Mass, and even to the Royal Palace.
“Good heavens!”
Cardinal Del Mare clutched his forehead as he stared into the closet, and Lucrezia was left speechless. She knew that if she attempted to argue, the true state of the household budget would inevitably be dragged into the light.
“I do not know where on earth you squander your coin. My second daughter has nearly appeared before the Queen twice in the same outfit. Ensure that, from this day forward, no one ever speaks of this child as being ill-fed or ill-clothed in this house!”
1.
Thus, for the first time since her regression, Ariadne encountered the opulent world of a high-end tailor shop.
* * *
“She is young, yet her limbs are remarkably long.”
Tucked behind the row of boutiques lining the Tiber River sat a fine tailor shop, a frequent haunt of Lucrezia. Ragione Tailoring offered quality work at reasonable prices, making it Lucrezia’s go-to for outfitting the rapidly growing Arabella.
Today, Madame Marini from Ragione Tailoring had arrived at the De Mare Mansion to measure Ariadne and finalize designs for her summer and autumn outdoor wear.
“She will sprout up soon—not just in height, but in her frame as well.”
Madame Marini gave Ariadne a playful wink. Ariadne frowned, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Shall we cut the décolletage a bit lower? She hasn’t had her debutante ball yet, but her physique is already maturing into that of a young lady. She is too grown to be dressed like a child.”
Ordinarily, a mother would have been perched nearby, offering meticulous guidance on how to dress a blossoming daughter. Today, only Sancha stood with Ariadne.
Having been severely reprimanded by Cardinal Del Mare for the state of Ariadne’s wardrobe, Lucrezia had decided her own presence would only serve to upset the girl further. She had granted the tailor full authority, instructing them to produce as many summer and autumn outfits as possible within a limit of 5 ducats—roughly 5 million won—without even casting an eye on the designs.
And so, in the absence of a mother to fuss over why a child should have a low neckline, or to insist on buttons up to the chin and floor-sweeping skirts, Ariadne had to interject herself.
“That won’t be necessary. Keep the collars as high as possible and do not cut the neckline deep.”
Since her regression, Ariadne had harbored various grievances regarding Lucrezia’s mistreatment. Yet, in one specific area, their interests aligned: food. Whenever Cardinal Del Mare’s gaze was averted, Lucrezia ensured Ariadne was not fed properly. Ariadne, however, had no complaints about this.
— “They say you have such a sturdy build, it’s like holding a man. Your chest is so large and saggy, I thought you were a cow.”
The Ariadne of the past had been a tall, slender woman with a solid frame. But she had always hunched her shoulders, deeply ashamed of her stature. She hadn’t wanted to appear gargantuan beside Cesare, who, while tall, was wiry and lean.
In this life, Ariadne ate as little as she possibly could. She refused to grow. She wanted to be small and fragile—like Isabella, who fit so perfectly in Cesare’s arms.
She loathed the idea of her figure being revealed. Ariadne prayed that no gaze would ever again scan the contours of her body.
“I would prefer not to stand out. Please, do not make the clothes tight or revealing; keep the fit loose and cover as much as possible.”
Madame Marini seemed perplexed by the request.
“Pardon? No—my lady, I believe I understand your concerns.”
As she measured Ariadne, she loosened the fabric she had draped over her and held it up to the mirror.
“You have a natural, budding volume. It will only increase in the future. But if you wear your tops too loosely… look here. It actually makes you appear larger, doesn’t it?”
Conversely, she pulled the draped fabric taut from behind to emphasize the silhouette.
“If it is fitted like this, it captures your frame and makes you look much slimmer. Even if you are self-conscious about your ribcage, the same principle applies. It is far more effective to use a thicker fabric to press it down firmly so that the contours of your chest remain concealed.”
Seeing it with her own eyes, she could not deny the expert’s logic. It was impossible to argue against the truth reflected in the glass. Ariadne begrudgingly agreed to have the outfits made as Madame Marini suggested, though she privately resolved to bind her chest with cotton cloth to suppress the shape even further.
In the end, Ariadne walked away with one pale green outing outfit, one lovely yellow one, and an elegant white dress. The shoemaker promised to have custom-fitted shoes delivered shortly. A few pieces of loungewear were added to the order, with the rest promised by autumn.
The dress she would wear for today’s audience with the Queen was the white one. Crafted from thick, Etruscan-produced satin with a subtle, liquid sheen, it was tailored for modest elegance—a departure from the typical, over-embellished attire of a young noblewoman.
“Oh my goodness, no one would even recognize you, My Lady!”
Sancha’s exclamation echoed as she styled Ariadne’s hair. Ariadne winced, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Was I really that hideous before?”
“Well, it wasn’t entirely untrue.”
Ariadne playfully tapped Sancha on the shoulder. Sancha stuck out her tongue.
“Ah, it’s a compliment! A compliment! You’re beautiful now.”
As Sancha braided Ariadne’s hair into a half-up style, she sighed with a hint of regret.
“Still, My Lady is so young. It would be nice if you dressed in something a bit more cute and flashy.”
Ariadne felt a flash of revulsion.
“That doesn’t suit me. Don’t even think about suggesting it.”
Sancha shot her a sly, knowing smile.
Since the only jewelry she possessed were the gold earrings she had taken from Lucrezia and a silver cross necklace, Sancha tucked fresh flowers into Ariadne’s hair instead. They were white lisianthus, currently in full bloom.
She fashioned a small bouquet with the remaining flowers, tied it with a ribbon, and pinned it to her wrist, creating a look that felt complete even without precious gems.
“There. Now, let’s go see the Queen!”
* * *
Cardinal Del Mare had accompanied her as far as the royal palace, but Ariadne had to enter the audience chamber alone.
It would have been inappropriate for the Cardinal to enter the small drawing room reserved exclusively for ladies, and he had his own business to attend to within the palace. Above all, Cardinal Del Mare lacked any inclination to dote on his second daughter.
“Don’t cause any trouble, and stay quiet,” the Cardinal had cautioned as he dropped Ariadne at the entrance of the Queen’s palace. Ariadne smirked, finding his wariness absurd.
“Of course.”
Does my father think of me as some sort of walking powder keg?
Sometimes, however, a child’s true character is better known to others than to their own parents. Ariadne was supposed to wait in the anteroom at the front of the palace until her appointed time. Catching her reflection in a wall mirror, she felt the absence of jewelry made her look somewhat shabbier than she had intended. The fresh flowers were a nice touch, but the lisianthus blossoms were small, limiting the vibrancy of her look.
‘They must be growing peonies in the Queen’s back garden.’
Dressed entirely in white, a single pink peony would be just enough to make her look striking and refined.
She had a good hour and a half before the audience. Ariadne knew the Queen’s palace like the back of her hand. Once inside, there were no guards stationed in the inner halls, and she had more than enough time to slip into the gardens.
Ariadne lifted the hem of her skirt slightly, scanned the hallway like a squirrel, and slipped out of the anteroom with effortless grace.
* * *
The fastest route to the Queen’s garden was the central corridor, but by passing through the abandoned fountain, one could reach the greenery without being seen.
Ariadne moved with quick, nimble motions across the stone path toward the fountain. It was the most secluded spot; the chances of running into anyone here were slim.
“Ariadne?”
But probability and reality were two very different things.
“Who’s there?”
The only person in Palazzo Carlo who would address her by her name was Prince Alfonso. Ariadne scanned her surroundings, but the courtyard was deserted.
“Up here.”
A man’s silhouette stood out against the backlight, perched casually in the branches of the zelkova tree.