Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 116

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: The Return to the San Carlo Court
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Inside the swaying carriage on the way to San Carlo, Grand Princess Lariesa watched Prince Alfonso’s procession with eyes as unsettled as the ride itself. Watching wouldn't change a thing, but she felt she would go mad if she didn't at least do that.

- “Don't act like you're something special.”

- “You're not a sovereign's daughter, you're just a card on the negotiating table.”

- “Lariesa de Valois, not my fiancée.”

Lariesa had returned to her quarters that day and wept fiercely.

‘How could I have offended Prince Alfonso!’

Would this marriage even happen? For someone in an arranged political marriage, this would be the first logical question. After all, their relationship was closer to a transaction. But for Lariesa, the thought that Alfonso might hate her was a source of far greater pain.

‘What will Prince Alfonso think of me? Will he look at me with disgust? Will he think I’m wicked, ugly, and not as good as my sister? He must be disappointed, too, right? ‘Ah, it would have been so much better if Grand Princess Suzanne had come.’ Ha…’

Once her thoughts reached that point, it was unbearable. Grand Princess Lariesa summoned Count Revien and tormented him to within an inch of his life.

“Count Revien! What’s going to happen to this marriage now!”

“Your Highness, Your Highness, this isn’t something to be so worried about…”

“What if the prince is sick of me?!”

Watching Lariesa sob as if in agony, Count Revien let out a deep sigh that rose from the pit of his stomach and began to soothe his lord’s daughter.

“Your Highness, this is a political marriage. The feelings of the parties involved are not important. The one you need to please is His Majesty Leo III, not Prince Alfonso.”

“But once we’re married, the person I’ll have to live with is Prince Alfonso! What if he treats me poorly? What if he takes a mistress right after we marry and never comes to see me?”

Considering the behavior of Prince Alfonso’s father, Leo III, it was an entirely plausible scenario. But Count Revien was no amateur. Already a skilled orator, he was becoming a master of placating people through Grand Princess Lariesa’s harsh training. He knew not to feed her anxiety.

“The Kingdom of Gallico will not stand idly by. Ah, I know what you’re going to say. But the Gallico of twenty years ago is not the Gallico of today.”

Besides, Grand Duke Eudes, who doted on his children, would never let his daughter be left to languish alone.

“Could he be doing this to me because he has another woman in his heart?”

Lariesa had deliberately pushed the memory of the black-haired woman from the masquerade ball to the far corners of her mind. Of course, Lariesa wasn't a complete fool. And even the most foolish woman’s intuition can be sharp. There was a definite sense of foreboding deep in her heart. Yet, to quell that feeling, she would bring up topics to everyone she met, saying things like, ‘Count Cesare’s marriage partner is so fortunate,’ or ‘Aren’t they a lovely couple?’ She was so unstable that she couldn’t stop the impulse to speak of Cardinal de Mare’s second daughter and Cesare, even to Leo III himself, wanting to believe it was a foregone conclusion.

“Grand Princess Lariesa! You mustn’t think such things!”

Count Revien denied it vehemently. He had to break the cycle of Lariesa dwelling on negative thoughts and sinking into sorrow. Besides, he was a rational man. Prince Alfonso had a reputation in diplomatic circles for being prudent and thoughtful. He didn’t think such a man, a successor to the throne on the verge of a political marriage, would be so reckless. If there was a woman he liked, he could simply take her as a mistress.

“Prince Alfonso is not so lacking in decency. And, this time, Your Highness did cross a line. Any man would have been angry. For a man, being chided by his wife about his capabilities or situation is the worst possible offense. Especially if the wife is wealthier or more powerful.”

Lariesa shrank back even more at the words blaming her. When the Grand Princess, instead of getting angry, withdrew deeper into herself, Count Revien realized his mistake and hastily comforted her.

“Poor Grand Princess, please don’t be so sad. Is there anything in this world that cannot be remedied?”

Count Revien desperately tried to think of Grand Princess Lariesa’s good qualities.

“Your Highness is a kind person, are you not?”

The fact that ‘kind’ was the only virtue he could praise in a marriageable young lady was a rather depressing reality, but she was, to put it nicely, affectionate and, at least to those she liked, generous.

“How about praising Prince Alfonso often and taking good care of him?”

For a woman who couldn't attract a man romantically, devotion was the best strategy. The more honorable the man, the more effective this strategy was. The moment his guilt turned to pity, even a woman lacking romantic appeal could find a place in a man’s heart.

“The marriage is a done deal anyway. Secure your place by his side and treat him well for a long, long time. Husbands tend to open their hearts to the wife who has always been by their side. Prince Alfonso is a good man. I’m sure you can become a happy couple.”

After this sermon, feeling a lingering unease, Count Revien added one more piece of advice for everyone’s sake.

“And from now on, no more baseless suspicions or endless jealousy. That is poison to a relationship.”

Having wrung Count Revien dry and received the mechanical, predetermined comfort she sought, Grand Princess Lariesa faithfully followed his advice. She wasn’t usually one to listen to others, but the clash with Prince Alfonso that day had been a tremendous shock to her. To be unloved by the one she loved was tantamount to the end of her world. Living in a world of black and white, Lariesa treated Prince Alfonso with all her heart, mustering every ounce of strength she possessed. But since that day, Prince Alfonso had never shown her more than the bare minimum of courtesy required by social etiquette.

Seeing the Grand Princess sitting in the carriage, oscillating between heaven and hell—or more accurately, sitting in a fiery pit of her own making—Count Revien cautiously brought up a topic to lift her spirits.

“Your Highness, have you heard that there will be a Spring Festival when we arrive in San Carlo?”

“A Spring Festival?”

“Yes, there will be a ball and a street festival. A young man and woman become the festival mascots, the Spirit of the Daffodil and the Nymph of the Spring.”

He whispered to the intrigued Grand Princess.

“I’ve received word from the Etruscan officials. They said to prepare, as you will be Prince Alfonso’s partner at the ball.”

March 25th was a holy day in the Yesap faith, commemorating the conception. In addition to the religious Feast of the Annunciation on March 25th, San Carlo traditionally held a grand Spring Festival for the week leading up to it. The city prepared for the spring flower festival by planting tulips and daffodils in the squares of each district. San Carlo had countless squares, each serving as the heart of its community with a well at its center. The residents of each district would select a young man as the ‘Spirit of the Daffodil’ and a beautiful maiden as the ‘Nymph of the Spring,’ bestowing upon them a laurel crown and a bouquet of tulips. While the nobility considered it an honor for their daughters to be named ‘Débutante of the Year’ at the debutante ball held every April, for commoner girls, becoming the Nymph of the Spring at the festival was the greatest honor. The streets would buzz with talk of who was this year’s nymph from which square.

Even for those not handsome or beautiful enough to be candidates for a spirit or nymph, the Spring Festival had plenty to enjoy. The squares and their adjoining alleyways filled with food stalls and vendors selling food and souvenirs. People would enjoy snacks and bouquets of flowers as they celebrated the festival.

“The Nymph of the Spring, did they say I would be the Nymph of the Spring, too?”

Lariesa asked Count Revien, unable to hide her excitement.

“The Nymph of the Spring is chosen by the commoners, so they don’t select one separately at the royal ball on the first day of the festival. In any case, isn’t the royal ball the centerpiece of the Spring Festival for the nobility?”

He skillfully placated the Grand Princess.

“It’s confirmed that Your Highness will dance the first waltz of the ball with Prince Alfonso as a couple, so in effect, you are the star of the Spring Festival.”

Lariesa was briefly disappointed to hear she wouldn’t have the chance to be the Nymph of the Spring, but her expression brightened at the news that she was confirmed as Prince Alfonso’s partner.

“Yes, the title isn’t what’s important.”

What mattered was the chance to be close to Prince Alfonso, the chance to win back his heart. Grand Princess Lariesa resolved to become a beautiful partner at the ball and solidify her place by his side.

***

At the news that the royal court was returning from Taranto, Ariadne’s face brightened for the first time in a while. Sancha, placing a vase of daffodils on the side table in Ariadne’s room, smiled and complimented her mistress.

“My lady, your smile is as radiant as a daffodil.”

“Sancha, you’re teasing. If you say that, I might actually believe you.”

“You should believe me, because it’s true.”

“Your flattery improves by the day. Oh, by the way, when did they say we would visit the Collezioni dress shop?”

It was time to have her dresses made for the spring social season.

“This very afternoon. Today’s schedule is… The dress for next week’s High Mass is already made, so you just need to check the size, and then you must choose a dress for the ‘Spring Festival’ ball the week after.”

Ariadne had already decided on the dress she would wear to the High Mass next week. It was a mass to celebrate the safe return of the royal court to San Carlo. It would be the first event of the year where the court members and those who had remained in San Carlo would meet. In other words, it was the first time she would see Alfonso since their last kiss.

‘I want to look pretty for Alfonso.’

Realizing what she was thinking, Ariadne’s face grew hot, and she threw open the window.

“My lady! Leave it! I’ll open it!”

“It’s fine.”

Ariadne asked with a slight frown.

“I’ll have to go up a size, won’t I?”

She had been trying to eat more than before lately. But Sancha stared at Ariadne with a look of disbelief.

“You eat like a bird, what do you mean go up a size!”

“…I am eating more than before.”

“It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other.”

At Sancha’s declaration, Ariadne pouted. She had been trying. Would Alfonso recognize her efforts? He was a kind man; if he heard about all the little schemes Ariadne had devised to increase her food intake, he would surely tell her she had worked hard, that she had done well. But what if Alfonso said it still wasn’t enough? Then would he, like before, press his lips to mine and feed me directly… At that thought, Ariadne’s face turned crimson, and she fanned herself with her hand.

Lately, no matter what Ariadne did or thought, the train of her thoughts always ended with Alfonso. She could no longer deny it. She was in love.

***

“By the guidance of Saint Erasmus, our earthly king, His Majesty Leo III, and the House of de Carlo have returned home safely. This is due to our constant prayers…”

A grand homecoming mass was held, officiated by Cardinal de Mare. The Carlo royal family and the court nobles, who had spent the winter in Taranto, filled the San Ercole Basilica, dressed like spring flowers to enjoy the beautiful San Carlo weather. Today’s event, though disguised as a mass, was mainly a day for observing others and flaunting one’s own standing.

The person who made the best use of this opportunity was none other than Isabella de Mare. People who spotted Isabella at the High Mass couldn't help but murmur amongst themselves.

- “Look at Isabella de Mare! Her whole aura has changed.”

- “Has she come to her senses?”

- “Not a chance. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”

- “Still, I heard she recently lost her mother. She’s still so young; a shock like that could certainly change a person.”

Isabella was known for her love of brightly colored dresses. She was San Carlo’s undisputed fashion leader, wearing a different dress every day, made of thin, light materials in a myriad of pastel shades. But today, the same Isabella was draped head to toe in thin, black satin. Her skirt, too, had drastically changed from the flamboyant, wide hoop style she usually favored to a modest and simple silhouette, narrow in width and only slightly lifted near the waistline. The neckline, which she used to wear cut daringly low, was now completely covered by a pure white veil. Paired with the mantilla covering her head, she looked impeccably devout and earnest.

- “Oh, the poor thing.”

- “But her natural beauty is undeniable. She stands out so much even in mourning clothes and with such simple adornments!”

- “Isn’t she prettier now, actually?”

- “She was definitely a bit excessive before.”

In fact, Isabella now more closely resembled the classic beauty that San Carlo admired. Traditionally, San Carlo did not consider overly adorned people to be beautiful. As she quietly exuded an air of pitiable sorrow, even those who had disliked her felt their animosity soften with sympathy, and those who hadn’t cared for Isabella’s previous style now cast a new glance her way.

Receiving the sympathetic gazes, Isabella gently bit her lip from beneath her veil.

‘For now, I have to lie low.’

Isabella, who had planned to spread the rumor that ‘Marquis Campa’s real mistress is Countess Bartolini’ as soon as her confinement was over, had changed her course after her mother's death. She had gained a rare wave of public sympathy. There was no need to dredge up a past scandal at this particular moment.

‘I’ll set things right eventually. The real mistress should be the one called a mistress.’

Pretending not to notice her surroundings, she bowed her head even lower.

***

The unfortunate victim of Isabella’s change of course was Ariadne. While Ariadne would have mourned Arabella, she had no intention of wearing mourning clothes for her ‘mother’ after the funeral. Lucrezia had been the cardinal’s lover, not his official wife. No matter how much she had insisted on the titles of ‘mother’ or ‘wife’ at home, no matter how people had revered her as if she were the legitimate spouse, that fact remained unchanged. Cardinal de Mare and Lucrezia de Rossi had merely feigned being a family; they were not one in the eyes of the law. And if they weren't legal family, there was no need to wear mourning clothes.

Ariadne’s stance was a reasonable one. It wasn't just her own solitary decision, either. The Cardinal, of course, showed no sign of mourning, and even Ippolito had appeared today in a nobleman’s formal suit splendidly embroidered in purple. Not openly mourning Lucrezia was the general atmosphere throughout the de Mare estate.

But that morning, Isabella had made the first move. She was the pitiful and pure young lady in black mourning clothes who had lost her mother. Ariadne, who had stepped into the entrance hall wearing a gorgeous rose-red silk dress, knew instantly upon seeing Isabella. If she went out like this, she would be directly compared to Isabella and hear whispers about her lack of filial piety, that it was because she was an illegitimate child, that you couldn’t expect more from a bastard.

In the end, Ariadne had no choice but to go back upstairs and reluctantly change into a modest black dress. The flower-like rose dress she had chosen in anticipation of seeing Alfonso again went back into the wardrobe.

Fortunately, San Carlo had a royal decree limiting the period for wearing mourning clothes to a maximum of one month. When a member of the royal family died, the entire nation was required to wear mourning clothes, and San Carlo was the city that led fashion for the entire central continent. The policy was in place because limiting textile sales to black for years at a time would have had a severe impact on the fashion industry, a major pillar of the economy.

‘I should be able to wear colored dresses again by the time of the royal ball.’

She idly counted the days and pulled down the loose veil that covered her face. The clothes weren’t important. Ariadne’s thoughts had already drifted to the letter she had received from Alfonso a few days ago.

「To my beloved Ari, I am immeasurably happy to finally be returning to San Carlo. My days in Taranto, even on what would objectively be considered very spectacular days, felt bland, and every moment felt like an eternity. Every step I take toward you is light and joyful. Once I return, we will first see each other at the homecoming High Mass, and after that, there is the royal ball and the ‘Spring Festival.’ I will look for a place and time where we can meet naturally. I am very much looking forward to our letters taking much less time to exchange once I am back in San Carlo! …(etc.).」

Alfonso and Ariadne had agreed not to acknowledge each other at the High Mass. Lariesa was still lingering in San Carlo. Besides her, there was Queen Marguerite, who had not yet agreed with her son's wishes, and Isabella, who would surely be watching Ariadne with jealous eyes.

To date quietly, secretly, without catching anyone’s eye. That was their promise.

With slow steps, Ariadne passed through the main entrance of the San Ercole Basilica and walked gracefully inside.