The gaze of Ariadne De Mare followed the voice, coming to rest on a zelkova tree with sprawling, lush leaves beside an abandoned fountain. The owner of the voice had been lounging on a high branch, reading a book.
He closed the volume that had been shielding his face, set it aside, and gestured toward Ariadne.
“You want me to come up?”
The Prince nodded.
“It’s the place where people are least likely to see us.”
There was still plenty of time before the audience with Queen Marguerite. There was no urgent need to hunt for peonies.
She nodded and pressed her feet against the trunk, attempting to hoist herself up. However, the voluminous hem of her dress hampered her, making it impossible to gain the necessary leverage to climb.
“Shall I help you?”
She was in no position to refuse. She reached toward Prince Alfonso, and he took her hand. His exceptionally thick, large hand enveloped her long, slender fingers.
“This way. That’s it.”
Simply holding her hand wasn’t enough for Ariadne to seat herself safely on the branch. The Prince reached down, placing his hands under her arms to hoist her up. Only once she was settled on the zelkova branch did he seem to realize a problem.
“Oh dear, your dress is white.”
Ariadne burst into laughter.
“What is this? You invited me up without even looking?”
Alfonso laughed along with her, clearly delighted. He had called out the moment he saw her face, simply because he was happy to see her; he hadn’t spared a thought for her attire.
He pondered for a moment, then began to unfasten his cloak.
“Could you try sitting on this for a moment?”
The Prince gestured toward his own knees. Ariadne’s eyes widened.
*‘This is too straightforward.’*
But again, she was in no position to refuse. Prince Alfonso’s favor was the golden ticket that would allow her to survive this life safely and freely, far from the reach of Cesare and the De Mare family.
As Ariadne obediently shifted her center of gravity onto Alfonso’s lap as instructed, he spread his cloak over the empty branch and set her back down upon it.
“There, is that better?”
It was a clean, effortless movement, devoid of a single unnecessary touch.
It seemed the ulterior motives existed only in Ariadne’s heart. She felt her face flush for no reason and could only nod.
“Alfonso, but… why were you here?”
Alfonso smiled back at her.
“That’s what I should be asking. How did you end up here?”
Well, it wasn’t strange for a Prince to be wandering the Royal Castle. Ariadne gave a bitter smile at her own foolish question.
“I have an audience with Queen Marguerite today.”
“Ah! So that’s today!”
Rumor had it that the second daughter of the De Mare family, who had defeated the apostle of Acereto, would be coming to the palace to receive the praise of the King and Queen, as well as a gift from the Queen.
“Father has been singing your praises quite a bit.”
“Really?”
Ariadne couldn’t feel purely happy, even hearing that the King held her in high regard. It was true that a better reputation expanded her room for maneuver, but Leo III was a monarch with many peculiar ideas. One could even call him unpleasant; she wasn’t sure that catching his eye was necessarily a good thing.
“He said he regretted that he couldn’t grant you the Order of Chivalry.”
Prince Alfonso was the sole heir to the throne and, for the time being, maintained a decent relationship with the King. The King doted on his young son, and his close aides were quite open about informing the Prince of the King’s private musings.
“What a shame. That would have been my chance to become a knight.”
She laughed as if joking, but she truly felt the disappointment. If she only held that title, she could have severed her ties to the De Mare family and lived a free life on her own.
“Do you want to become a knight?”
Prince Alfonso’s eyes sparkled. He was well-versed in all the arts required of a knight: jousting, horsemanship, swordsmanship, and shield work. He was also praised for embodying the seven virtues: courage, justice, generosity, nobility, awe of God, and the restraint of asceticism. It was his dream to become the monarch of the Central Continent—the knight of knights, a leader respected by all.
“One day, I will dub you a knight.”
“Does that mean I have to swear an oath of loyalty?”
*—I swear by my soul, from this moment forth, I dedicate my loyalty to my liege. Even in the face of any adversity, I shall protect him, show him reverence, and place his safety above my own life. I will live for a greater good than my own personal gain. I will always speak only the truth to my liege, keep the promises I have made to him, and I will never change, never leave, and always stand by my liege’s side.*
Ariadne knew the oath of loyalty a knight pledged to their liege all too well. She thought it was a terribly romantic oath, crafted to be impossible to keep.
*‘Besides, a knight who takes the life of their liege… I’d be no different from Judas Iscariot, the traitor in the Holy Scriptures.’*
Ariadne resolved that she must never swear an oath of loyalty to Alfonso.
Ariadne had once led Alfonso into a trap. That was because she had been one of Cesare’s people. If she were to become Alfonso’s knight after committing such a sin, she would have no excuse if she were to burn in hellfire for eternity.
“I cannot give it now, as I am not yet the monarch. When that day comes, I will give you the honor of being my knight.”
“I can’t use a sword, nor can I use a spear.”
“Learn until that day comes.”
Ariadne giggled at his firm belief in the blade.
“Are you planning to protect the country only with swords? Civil officials can be useful, too, you know.”
“They are indeed necessary people. Fine talent, to be sure. But they are not knights.”
A knight who clashes with enemy forces to defend the country at the frontlines where interests collide. Alfonso intended to be a monarch who would make the Etruscan Kingdom flourish with a golden order of knights burning with loyalty.
“You’re planning to practice cronyism, not meritocracy. You’d dub a person who can’t use a sword or a spear a knight just because you like them?”
“Now that I hear it, you’re right. I should cancel that if I don’t want to become a tyrant.”
Ariadne hurriedly waved her hands.
“No. I’ll learn quickly—the sword and the spear.”
Ariadne made an exaggerated gesture and announced in a loud voice, “I shall learn swordsmanship starting today, become the greatest knight in the world, and be your first sword. I will make sure you are not disappointed by my excellent technique.”
A knight who makes promises they cannot keep—it was the very antithesis of a great knight. They looked at each other and burst into laughter. As Ariadne laughed heartily, she felt her balance slip.
*‘Oh—oh?’*
There was a strange sense of weightlessness behind her. It felt as if nothing was supporting her body. Ariadne flailed her arms.
“It’s dangerous!”
It was Prince Alfonso who saved Ariadne from falling out of the tree. He threw himself forward to catch her. First, their arms made contact, then Alfonso wrapped his arms around her to hold her close, and once her center of gravity stabilized, the surroundings fell silent. Together with the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, there was the soft rustle of silk rubbing against silk.
“Ah.”
Ariadne’s face was flushed. While the Prince didn’t seem to have a shred of ulterior motive, her own expectations were building, and Ariadne bit the inside of her cheek, struggling to compose herself.
She could not allow the air to thicken with awkwardness. It was a matter of strategy, but emotionally, she recoiled at the thought of making a fool of herself before Alfonso. To appear as a simpleton in the presence of the Golden Prince—it was unthinkable.
Fortunately, the Prince was the first to settle her and steer the conversation elsewhere.
“What brings you here? This isn’t the way to my mother’s audience chamber.”
Ariadne’s face flushed, this time with true embarrassment.
“That is……”
Officially, she was meant to be ignorant of the palace layout. Ariadne scrambled for an excuse.
“I was looking for flowers to pick for my hair. I felt so shabbily dressed for my audience with the Queen…… Is this not the garden?”
A half-truth. It was true she had been heading toward the garden, but she certainly knew exactly where it was. She loathed confessing that she felt underdressed, but one cannot always have everything they desire.
Alfonso, conversely, stared at her with wide eyes.
“Shabbily?”
In his gaze, there was nothing to add or subtract from the black-haired girl before him.
“You look lovely.”
Ariadne’s face burned a deeper shade of red. It felt disorienting, as if she had truly become a fifteen-year-old girl again in the presence of Prince Alfonso.
She gestured to her hair in protest. When she lacked an answer or struggled to parse her own feelings, she relied on cold, hard logic. That was the way Ariadne had lived her entire life.
“I didn’t have any ornaments, so I used fresh flowers. The buds are small, lacking any real grandeur. I’m sure I’m the only young lady in San Carlo heading to the Queen’s chambers like this.”
Even a prince indifferent to women’s fashion could grasp the implication: a young lady’s hair, devoid of jewels and adorned only with simple blooms, was a sign of poverty.
“Ah. So that was what was bothering you.”
He furrowed his brows in thought.
“What time is Her Majesty’s audience?”
“Three o’clock this afternoon.”
With only an hour remaining, Alfonso shook his head.
“That doesn’t leave much time.”
The prince’s palace was overflowing with gold and treasures, yet it was hardly stocked with ready-made hair ornaments. He pondered for a moment, searching for a solution.
“For now, let’s use this.”
He reached into his sleeve, pulling loose a long, decorative cord. On the green silk, tiny jewels were embedded between each stitch, catching the light with a brilliant luster.
Alfonso tied the jeweled cord around Ariadne’s head like a ribbon.
“This should do, shouldn’t it?”
Ariadne would have bet her life that the green ribbon was tied in a messy knot, looking little better than straw binding a bundle of crops. Judging by the Prince’s movements, he was not a man practiced in the art of tying a woman’s hair ribbon. Yet, his intention—stripping an ornament from his own attire to decorate her—was far too precious to ignore.
She crinkled her eyes and smiled.
“Thank you. I truly love it.”
* * *
After lingering by the abandoned fountain with Prince Alfonso, Ariadne returned to the Queen’s waiting room just in time.
The presentation of the King’s royal gifts was usually a grand affair overseen by court officials. However, Queen Marguerite was reclusive by nature and loathed such spectacles. Furthermore, a large-scale ceremony would have left her no excuse to avoid officially inviting Lucrezia, Ariadne’s mother.
Thus, the Queen’s audience took place in the same intimate drawing room where Ariadne had previously attended Mass. The space was small, attended only by a handful of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting from the Galico Kingdom, as well as Countess Marquez and Marchioness Cibo.
“-And so, I, King Leo III, bestow the following rewards upon the second daughter of Cardinal De Mare, and I hope you will continue to strive for the nation.”
Seated in her velvet chair, Queen Marguerite finished reading the King’s decree—a document dripping with flowery rhetoric about “merit,” “filial piety,” and “faithfulness”—to Ariadne, who knelt before her. The Queen then extended a hand, her voice deceptively gentle.
“You may rise now. Come closer.”
Ariadne stood, grounding her weight on her right foot in perfect accordance with court etiquette, performed a measured curtsy, and moved a step toward the Queen.
“Come, a little closer.”
The Queen produced a massive jewelry box, carved from dark ebony and inlaid with intricate gold and silver filigree.
“I did not expect His Majesty would bestow this upon you.”
Ariadne sensed something sharp, something ominous, beneath the Queen’s steady tone.
“Might I dare to ask what it is?”
In response, the Queen drew the King’s decree from the side table and read the final clause aloud.
“The gifts are fifty gold ducats, a collection of ornaments selected by Queen Marguerite, and the ‘Heart of the Blue Deep.’”
Ariadne’s face drained of color. As the Queen lifted the lid, a blinding brilliance spilled into the room.
It was an unimaginably beautiful necklace, defined by an ultramarine sapphire the size of a chestnut, encircled by a halo of tiny, ice-bright diamonds. The sheer weight of its luxury felt suffocating.
Ariadne scrambled backward, her composure shattering. She collapsed onto both knees, bowing her head until it nearly touched the floor, and cried out.
“Your Majesty, I cannot possibly accept this! I beseech you, reconsider!”