Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 121

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: If You Keep Talking Like That, I'll Kiss You
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The young knight looked at his lord's lady. Beneath the veil covering her face, he could glimpse her lustrous skin and smiling lips. It was a most elegant smile. He glanced up at Ariadne curtly before bowing his head and speaking.

"I have no surname."

Ariadne nodded.

"I've heard that some of His Highness's knights are commoners."

He gave no reply.

"To the carriage. I will drive."

He glanced at the coachman, Giuseppe, as if he were an inconvenience. Ariadne shook her head.

"Will you be escorting me home as well?"

She added with a smile.

"Or are you suggesting I should drive the carriage myself on the way back?"

The knight, Elko, blushed and made no further complaints about Giuseppe's presence. Sir Elko did not ride inside the carriage but sat next to Giuseppe, expertly guiding him through the back alleys to the Centro Anima. He seemed to know every inconspicuous path.

"You must be a San Carlo native, Sir Knight."

Giuseppe tried to strike up a conversation with Elko. But the gray-haired knight remained silent, his expression stern. It was common for knights to be haughty. Giuseppe, who had thought it worth a try since they were of a similar age and the other man wasn't a noble, felt slightly offended but pretended not to notice and drove the carriage swiftly.

"Over there. Let's pull into that back alley and wait."

Sir Elko indicated a narrow alley just behind Pietro Square, in the very heart of the Centro Anima. Following Elko's instructions, Giuseppe skillfully parked the carriage flush against the alley wall. Sir Elko leaped down from the coachman's box, drew his sword, and stood guard. His imposing presence was a stark contrast to the plain black carriage Ariadne had deliberately chosen. After about ten minutes of waiting in the back alley, another black carriage approached. The driver of the new carriage exchanged a glance with Elko, then briefly stopped the two carriages side-by-side. Elko first opened the door of Ariadne's carriage, escorted her out, and then opened the door of the second carriage.

"Ari!"

At the familiar voice, Ariadne looked forward. Inside the plain black carriage sat Alfonso, his face alight with pleasure. He reached out a hand to help her board, and with Sir Elko providing a foothold by kneeling on one knee and offering his thigh, Ariadne was able to move to the new carriage in less than a second. The moment the carriage door closed, Prince Alfonso pulled Ariadne into a fierce embrace.

"I missed you!"

The passionate hug dislodged the under-cap on Ariadne's head, causing it to slip back. As the French hood that had hidden all her hair came off, Ariadne's ebony locks cascaded over her shoulders and chest like a waterfall. A sweet fragrance wafted from her hair. It was the same scent he had smelled when he had entered her bedchamber during the débutante ball. Alfonso did what he had desperately wanted to do then but hadn't dared. The prince's lips covered the girl's.

"Ah."

With a soft moan, Ariadne returned Alfonso's kiss. The boy responded passionately to the girl's warmth, and she welcomed him just as gladly. It was the first time in her life she'd had such an overwhelming experience, where sight and sound faded away, replaced by heat, touch, and scent. Sharing their warmth, they lost all track of time.

"Hah..."

When they came to their senses, the inside of the carriage was filled with steam. The carriage windows had fogged up, obscuring the view outside. Ariadne wiped a squeaky patch on the glass with her palm and peered out.

"Where... where are we?"

She hastily smoothed her disheveled hair with her fingers. Her thick, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and chest. Alfonso released Ariadne from his embrace and, seating her beside him, intertwined his fingers with hers.

"We're taking a tour of San Carlo by carriage. I set aside about forty minutes... or I had."

They had wasted a good half hour. To gauge how much time they had left, Alfonso looked out the window.

"...We're passing the edge of Castel Lavico now. It should be about ten minutes to Pietro Square."

With his free hand, Alfonso gently caressed Ariadne's cheek. She smiled faintly and rested her head on the prince's shoulder. His warm scent tickled her nose. Leaning against him like a languid cat, she asked. As always, her curiosity outweighed her desire for peace.

"How did you manage to get out of the palace today?"

Prince Alfonso had been scheduled to receive the head of the Centro Anima's local cooperative at the palace today. Since the prince was slated to deliver a celebratory speech on behalf of the royal family in Pietro Square for the Spring Festival, the cooperative head had suggested at the last minute that, while meeting at the palace was fine, perhaps His Highness would like to personally inspect the daffodil altar from which he would be speaking. Alfonso had jumped at the chance and declared he would go. Of course, it wasn't because he wanted to see the daffodil altar.

"I had an engagement. I missed you so much."

The woman spoke of logic, the man of emotion. To him, the specific details of how he got out of the palace were unimportant. His desire to see her—that was all that mattered. Alfonso brushed back Ariadne's hair and stroked her head. She smiled at his touch and leaned her head against his shoulder. His warm scent tickled her nose. *Right, when two people are this close, what does the reason for coming out even matter?* But Alfonso did convey what he needed to.

"Regarding *that person*, I've already spoken with my mother."

The last time they spoke, Queen Marguerite had implored him not to bring the matter up with Leo III without consulting her first. Prince Alfonso had asked his mother to reach a decision within a month. Queen Marguerite had yet to give a definitive answer, but the one-month deadline they had agreed upon was fast approaching. He intended to ask his mother for her decision, but regardless of what it was, he had already resolved to tell his father about breaking the engagement.

"I'll bring you good news soon."

Alfonso lifted Ariadne's chin and lightly brushed her lips with his.

"At the next ball, I won't let you fret over having to refuse a partner request from a man you despise."

Alfonso looked into Ariadne's eyes.

"Just wait a little longer."

Ariadne nodded.

"I suppose I'll have to rely on Raphael de Valdesal until then."

Alfonso pulled Ariadne into a tight hug with a displeased expression and laid down a condition.

"No holding hands bare-handed."

"What? Why would I hold his hand?"

"You have to rest your hand on his for the escort, and you have to hold hands for the waltz."

"I can't even do that?"

Ariadne asked, dumbfounded. That kind of basic escort was something everyone did. Even a married lady could do that much if circumstances required her to attend a ball with someone other than her husband. It wouldn't even earn the description of 'being overly familiar with another man.' If she refused her partner's escort, everyone at the ball would stare!

"So hold his hand with gloves on. Absolutely no bare hands."

"Hahaha..."

"And don't be alone with him unless you're on the dance floor. Make sure you're always with a group of people. Absolutely no strolling in the garden, just the two of you."

"You said you were friends. Are you jealous of your friend?"

"I'm barely restraining myself from hating any male creature near you, even the four-legged ones."

"That's an exaggeration!"

"Shh, be quiet."

Alfonso once again silenced Ariadne's retort with his lips.

***

Today, Ariadne had enjoyed a delightful, surprise outing. But she wasn't the only one enjoying a sweet escapade.

*How long has it been since I received an invitation?*

Isabella hummed to herself as she firmly secured the white veil on her head to keep it from slipping. Though spring was here and she wanted to wear her usual dragonfly-wing-like dresses, she restrained herself and chose a demure black mourning dress instead. In any case, that wench Ariadne had a tight grip on the family finances, so Isabella couldn't afford a new dress anyway.

*It's fine. The tables will turn someday.*

Lucrezia was dead and gone, and Isabella lacked the ability to snatch the purse strings from Ariadne. Unless a stepmother appeared, Ariadne would continue to manage the household. But women grow up and get married. She planned to become the mistress of a new house and spend its gold freely.

"Bring the carriage. I'm going to the Bartolini estate."

She was surprised when she saw the carriage that was brought out. The coachmen had brought the silver carriage that the Cardinal and Ariadne usually used.

*Father is home today, but Ariadne is out and didn't take this carriage?*

Isabella furrowed her brow slightly at the unusual situation but quickly dismissed it. *Well, it's nice to ride in a fine carriage. This is a good thing.* It was a chance to show Countess Bartolini that she hadn't been cast out by her family. Arriving at the Bartolini estate in the de Mare family's silver carriage, Isabella was politely guided to a drawing room by the steward. It wasn't the countess's small parlor, but the main drawing room used by the head of the house.

*This is serious.*

She began to wonder if this meeting was really just to see the countess.

*Or... is Countess Bartolini in charge of the entire household? Did her husband collapse, allowing her to take over everything?*

If that were the case, it would make sense for Countess Bartolini to meet with another man—though her choice of Marquis Campa was in terrible taste. If her husband were bedridden, she would be lonely, and it would be easier to have an affair behind his back. But Isabella's assumption was wrong.

"If it isn't the elder Miss de Mare!"

A white-haired, jovial old man, wearing a loose gown over his indoor clothes, trotted into the drawing room.

"Count Bartolini."

It was Count Bartolini, nearly forty years his wife's senior. He had met Clemente de Bartolini, the current Countess, after being widowed from his first wife, with whom he had shared a loving marriage.

"It has been some time. I trust you've been well."

He wasn't paralyzed and bedridden, nor had he summoned Isabella to dig for information after suspecting his wife's infidelity. He was a kind-faced, roundish old man who smiled amicably and offered Isabella a seat.

"Please, sit. My wife will be out shortly."

Isabella was quite taken aback, but winning the favor of men, from twelve-year-old boys to men her father's age, was the easiest thing in the world for her. She put on her most harmless-looking smile and accepted his offer.

"Clemente doesn't often have visitors, so it's wonderful to have someone come by today."

He continued kindly.

"The people Clemente associates with are mostly older ladies. I always feel sorry. It seems she's lost the privileges of youth by marrying an old man like me."

Isabella had to bite her tongue to stop herself from replying, *'Oh no, the countess is enjoying the privileges of youth quite thoroughly.'*

"I'm very grateful to have a young lady of her own age keeping her company."

Isabella smiled, her eyes crinkling.

"Not at all. Sister Clemente is such an exemplary lady; I have always admired her and looked up to her."

*A rising star in the world of adultery*, she thought, but lip service cost nothing. Isabella showered praise on Clemente de Bartolini, using all the flowery language she knew the kind old husband would appreciate.

"...Ah."

It was a torrent of compliments that would have made the subject herself blush. Clemente de Bartolini, who had just arrived late to the drawing room, stood frozen in place, blushing and unable to speak.

"Oh, my dear. You've come down? I was just cutting in on your guest for a moment."

Count Bartolini quickly rose from the sofa and seated his young wife.

"You young people must have much to talk about, so please, go ahead. I shall take my leave."

He really did close the drawing room door and send in a maid. A hellish silence dominated the room as the Bartolini maid poured tea, placed a few simple tea foods on the table, and then departed. It was a lavish drawing room, decorated with colorful tulips arranged in a celadon vase from the Moorish Empire on a marble table. Isabella broke the silence.

"Wow."

Even on Isabella's face, there was a look of condemnation.

*You're cheating on a husband like that? Are you even human?*