It was an exaggerated, high-pitched gasp. Yet, matching her nightingale-like voice, every eye in the room snapped toward Isabella.
The person she had addressed was her own mother, Lucrezia, but the intended audience was, quite obviously, Queen Marguerite and her ladies-in-waiting.
“I am so glad that Your Majesty requested a sermon on the parts where the Gon of Yesak sacrificed himself. It is my favorite part, Mother.”
Lucrezia happily played along with her daughter’s tune.
“It warms my heart to see that my Galico Kingdom language lessons have paid off. Which part did you like the most?”
“The part where the Gon of Yesak sacrificed himself! I like the part where the people were all grateful to him after the Gon of Yesak sacrificed himself for all of humanity.”
The atmosphere turned icy. According to the Holy Scripture, the Gon of Yesak made two sacrifices.
The first time he gave his life, he was mocked and died in solitude. It was only after the miracle of his resurrection—when he sacrificed himself once more to prevent a divine punishment from falling upon the continent—that the general public began to praise and venerate him.
The sermon today had been about the first sacrifice. Isabella, whose command of the Galico language was limited, had recognized only the word ‘sacrifice’ and assumed the sermon was about the second one, which the nobles preferred. She had been trying to show off, only to have her poor grasp of the foreign language exposed.
“After a long journey, praise eventually follows sacrifice, does it not?”
A lady-in-waiting from her home country, who had accompanied Queen Marguerite from the Galico Kingdom, tried to lighten the mood with an awkward smile. But Isabella, failing to understand the lady’s attempt to save her, beamed.
“But right after the Gon of Yesak died on the cross, the residents of the Seven Hills of Gaias all came out at once and wailed in unison! Ah—of course, it is sad that he passed away, but how thrilling it must have been for the disciples of the Gon of Yesak!”
Now, the air turned as frigid as an icehouse. To envy the fame the saint gained, rather than honoring or showing gratitude for his sacrifice, was a remark so immature it was difficult to overlook, casting deep doubt on her character.
Even Lucrezia, who did not speak a word of Galico and thus could not gauge what blunder her daughter had made, felt the shift and scanned her surroundings, intimidated. However, Isabella—who was always oblivious at the most inappropriate times—simply blinked her large, pretty eyes, looking around at the guests.
With a bitter smile, Ariadne finally stepped forward.
“I like the courage the Gon of Yesak showed best.”
There seemed to be no way to salvage the situation other than for the youngest of them to play the part of a charming child.
“He must have been terribly frightened before he passed away.”
“Ah.”
“What a kind young lady.”
The sight of a girl, poised on the border between childhood and adulthood, empathizing deeply with the saint’s pain brought genuine smiles to the faces of the adults.
As the tension momentarily broke, the noblewomen tossed out a few social pleasantries, shifting the topic in an instant.
Ariadne added, a little late, “It must have been unsettling for him to leave his fate in the hands of the immoral, the selfish, and the dim-witted,” but everyone acted as if they hadn’t heard her.
Queen Marguerite alone was the exception. She looked at her lady-in-waiting and whispered in her ear.
“So, the younger one speaks Galica.”
The Queen’s gaze, now satisfied, moved to Lucrezia. Wearing a dress with a neckline a finger-width deeper than what was socially acceptable, Lucrezia dipped into a frantic curtsy the moment she caught the Queen’s eye.
“I am Lucrezia De Rossi of the Taranto Diocese, Etruscan Kingdom, and I am honored to meet Her Majesty, Queen Marguerite!”
The fussiness of her movements did little to hide Lucrezia’s intimidation. As she was merely the mistress of Cardinal Del Mare, protocol dictated she still refer to herself by her maiden name.
Ariadne mused that it would be truly hilarious if Queen Marguerite addressed Lucrezia as ‘Miss Lucrezia’ right here in front of everyone.
Despite having borne three children and raising a son already into adulthood, Lucrezia had never been married. If someone were to call her ‘Miss Lucrezia’ to her face, she would likely turn pale, tremble, and then retreat home to throw a tantrum for seven days and eight nights, smashing the household’s belongings in her rage.
However, perhaps because she had no intention of clashing with the Cardinal’s mistress, Queen Marguerite acknowledged Lucrezia’s greeting with nothing more than a curt nod.
“…….”
Sensing the tension brought on by the Queen’s silence, the lady-in-waiting brightly gestured toward the interior.
“Please, come into the drawing room. The noblewomen are gathered there.”
The Queen walked on with dignity, not having spoken a single word directly to the household of Cardinal Del Mare, while the lady-in-waiting led Lucrezia and her party to a drawing room tucked behind the small chapel, accessible by a narrow corridor.
“Oh! It’s truly beautiful!”
In the small drawing room, decorated elegantly with green silk and mahogany—fitting for Isabella’s exclamation—a small group of ladies sat sipping afternoon tea. They were Queen Marguerite’s inner circle.
Lucrezia, having entered with stiff hesitation, looked around, unsure of where to settle. It had been her lifelong dream to be part of such a circle, yet now that the moment had arrived, she seemed paralyzed by her own lack of social grace.
“O-oh, hello.”
When Lucrezia greeted them awkwardly and headed toward a sofa in the center, the noblewomen shifted their seats, much like a flock of street pigeons scattering to avoid a pedestrian.
The one who avoided Lucrezia most noticeably was a tall noblewoman with gray hair. Ariadne let out a soft, mirthless laugh.
‘To think I’d meet her here.’
It was Countess Marquez. In her previous life, she was the very woman whose hair Ariadne had grabbed at a tea party after the Countess spread rumors that Cesare was the illegitimate son of Leo III.
Countess Marquez, naturally, did not recognize the young Ariadne. Instead, when Queen Marguerite entered the drawing room, she rose with a beaming smile to greet her.
“I greet Your Majesty the Queen!”
The noblewomen inside the drawing room welcomed the Queen with bright, lively deference.
Queen Marguerite, who hadn’t spared a word for Lucrezia, smiled radiantly and responded with genuine warmth to Countess Marquez.
“My loyal friend, Countess Marquez, you look well today.”
“It is all thanks to Your Majesty’s gracious favor.”
The Queen, with her pale skin and hair the color of the Prince’s, could not hide the melodic accent that betrayed her origins. Lucrezia was slightly taken aback by the heavy Galico Kingdom lilt, but none of the noblewomen in the Queen’s drawing room showed any sign that it was unusual, choosing instead to smile broadly.
Queen Marguerite glanced at Lucrezia, Isabella, and Ariadne, who were hovering on the outskirts, unable to penetrate the group, and introduced them with a dismissive wave.
“These are the household members of Cardinal Del Mare. I heard that the daughter is clever and pious, so I invited them.”
When the noblewomen murmured at the mention of the ‘Cardinal’s daughter,’ it was Isabella toward whom they turned their gaze.
Even though Lucrezia had failed to establish a proper foothold in high society due to her status, Isabella had already been rumored to be the cleverest and most beautiful woman in San Carlo since her debutante ball the previous year.
Isabella took a half-step forward, caught the hem of her dress, and curtsied with practiced, fluid grace.
“I am Isabella De Mare. It is an honor to meet the most esteemed ladies of the Kingdom.”
The rosy flush on her porcelain skin was utterly lovely. Dressed in a top-tier ivory gown beneath a pearl-embroidered veil, Isabella looked beautiful and precious beyond compare, regardless of the stain on her birth.
“Oh my, so this is Lady Isabella De Mare.”
“She is every bit as pretty as the rumors say.”
“And so charming.”
Ariadne offered her greeting half a beat late, facing the chattering noblewomen. However, her gesture was not intended for the ladies; her gaze and posture were directed solely toward Queen Marguerite.
“I am the second daughter, Ariadne De Mare. May the noble bloodline be blessed by the protection of the Gon of Yesak.”
The noblewomen, having just doted on the flawlessly groomed eldest daughter, seemed momentarily struck dumb as they looked at the disheveled and dreary second daughter. Adjectives like “pretty” had been entirely exhausted on the eldest, leaving no compliments left to offer.
But Queen Marguerite received Ariadne’s greeting with pleasure. Her lips remained stoic, but deep crow’s feet etched the corners of her eyes.
“Such a young child, yet she carries herself with such fine manners.”
It was the first sentence Queen Marguerite had ever spoken directly to a member of the De Mare family. She was clearly pleased that the girl had offered honor to the Queen rather than the surrounding noblewomen.
Once Ariadne received the Queen’s acknowledgment, the ladies began showering her with praise—claiming the young lady was so composed and well-educated, as if they had never once laid eyes on Isabella.
Isabella, pushed to the periphery of attention in an instant, gritted her teeth.
*Queen Marguerite must be blind!*
Just then, Countess Marquez, who led the group of ladies, addressed Lucrezia, who was sitting on the outskirts.
“Lady Isabella’s dress is quite lovely. From which tailor was it commissioned?”
Delighted by the attention of a genuine noblewoman, Lucrezia answered, “It was crafted at home by our house seamstress.”
As if not to miss the opportunity, Isabella flicked the hem of her dress to capture everyone’s gaze.
It was a high-end custom piece that used an abundance of top-grade silk to create voluminous pleats, concealing Isabella’s thin frame. Beneath the thick fabric, the lace of a fine chemise was faintly visible.
“The seamstress has great skill. I would like to have one made for my daughter, but it is a pity it wasn’t bought from an established shop.”
Hungry for interaction with high-ranking peers, Lucrezia offered a favor excessive for a first meeting.
“You may entrust your commissions to our seamstress. You would be welcomed at any time, Countess Marquez.”
Countess Marquez smiled with a cryptic expression.
“If the seamstress is skilled, she must be slow-handed; I cannot add to her burden. The seamstress who made the eldest daughter’s clothes is clearly different from the one who made the second daughter’s, is she not?”
“……!”
“Now that you mention it?”
At the meaningful remark, the noblewomen began to look back and forth between Isabella and Ariadne’s dresses.
Indeed, the attire of the two sisters was vastly different.
Isabella’s outfit was incredibly luxurious. Her dress, shoes, and hair accessories were all top-tier items that followed the latest trends to the letter. However, it was glaringly obvious that Ariadne’s attire had never been touched by adult guidance.
If Lucrezia had been more established in high society, the noblewomen would have kept their mouths shut. But Lucrezia had no standing, and Queen Marguerite did not seem to regard her particularly highly.
Marchioness Cibo, always trailing behind Countess Marquez as a sycophant, examined Queen Marguerite’s expression. Judging it safe, she opened fire.
“A virtuous woman must look after her children with equal care.”
As if unable to lose, or perhaps having waited for this, Countess Marquez immediately took up the thread.
“Having a mistress is bad, but the child is a member of the family regardless. One’s standing depends on the family.”
The ladies began to chime in one by one.
“The breeding…”
“The lack of common sense…”
“The child is innocent…”
“Oh, how pitiful…”
Lucrezia’s face flushed bright red, then drained to a sickly pale. She could not utter a word; how could she, when she had dressed her own daughter in the finest silks while leaving her stepdaughter in rags? Lucrezia was never known for a sharp wit, either.
It was Isabella who stepped in to save her mother from the social wreckage.
“Excuse me, ladies. My sister has been in poor health and only recently returned from the Bergamo estate.”
Isabella offered a practiced, pretty smile and walked toward Ariadne, taking her hand with an affection that felt staged for the room to see.
“My sister’s clothes are all currently being crafted by our seamstress. Since she is still so thin and small, I gave her a dress I wore last year.”
“…….”
“It was tailored to my own frugal tastes, that is all. Sisters always share clothes when they are young.”
Isabella looked at Ariadne, her smile tender. A sweet dimple creased her baby-soft skin.
“Isn’t that right, my sister?”
Ariadne smiled back at her, matching her expression perfectly.
‘Seeing is believing.’
Instead of vocalizing Lucrezia’s atrocities, Ariadne stood abruptly. Just as Isabella had done earlier, she flicked the hem of her dress.
“That’s right, sister. It’s an undeservedly lovely dress. I didn’t realize it was a hand-me-down, but I truly love it.”
As the skirt flapped, the cotton chemise worn underneath was revealed. Upon seeing the worn, tattered fabric, the noblewomen gasped in unison.
“My goodness! Look at how coarse that cotton is!”
“It’s completely yellowed! What was its original color, anyway?”
“Look at that stain! That’s a splatter from chores, isn’t it? Do they force her to do kitchen work?”
Lucrezia’s face turned deathly pale.