Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 124

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: Count Cesare's Refusal
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“What did you say?”

Isabella’s sharp cry echoed through the hallway of the Bartolini estate.

“For whose benefit? This isn't just for my sake!”

But Count Cesare answered coldly.

“Nonsense. The eldest daughter of de Mare is looking out for her own safety more than anyone right now.”

Isabella could not agree. This was a false accusation. Count Cesare clearly had something to gain from this.

“Not at all! If you attend the royal ball with me, you'll capture my sister's interest. Isn't that a profitable deal in itself?”

Cesare replied in a sarcastic tone.

“And by bringing this Count Cesare to an official event, you get to show off to all of San Carlo's high society that 'Isabella de Mare isn't finished yet.'”

Isabella’s face flushed.

“Well, I won't deny there's an element of that. But really, since when have you ever cared about another's ill repute?”

He let out a hearty laugh.

“That much is true.”

“Besides.”

Isabella pressed on.

“You, of all people, know perfectly well that the rumor of me being Marquis Campa's mistress is completely false!”

“Hm? Is that so?”

His casual pretense of ignorance infuriated Isabella.

“That rumor spread through society because I have Marquis Campa's ruby. But you know better than anyone that the bracelet has nothing to do with the Marquis!”

“Hmm. Well. I suppose one could see it that way.”

“Then what exactly do you have to lose? You've never cared about criticism of your reputation.”

Isabella folded down one finger.

“I doubt you'd mind associating with an immoral mistress, but since I'm not one, that's not a factor either.”

Isabella folded down another finger. She looked up at Count Cesare with a clear, innocent face.

“You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. So why on earth are you refusing?”

Count Cesare, with a finger clad in a deerskin glove, pushed Isabella’s forehead away as she stood exceedingly close to him.

“What are you doing! Don't touch me!”

“Aren't you the one who has gotten far too close to a man who is not your kin, eldest daughter of de Mare?”

He stepped half a pace to the side and looked at Isabella with a smirk.

“It's unpleasant.”

“What did you say?”

“I can practically see the schemes buzzing around inside that small, pretty head of yours, and it's unpleasant that you intend to use me as a cog in your machine.”

He crossed his arms loftily and looked down at her.

“Does this Count Cesare seem like such a half-wit that he can't woo the woman he desires without getting his hands on her sister? I can succeed perfectly well without your assistance, so let us go our separate ways.”

Cesare turned away.

“I refuse your offer.”

Isabella, bursting with indignation, let out a sharp cry.

“Count Cesare!”

But he did not look back.

***

Lariesa de Valois had been in a foul mood since that morning. She had been left alone in a foreign palace. Her compatriots were all middle-aged men. Her attendants, who were anywhere from twenty to forty years her senior, failed to entertain her to her satisfaction. Nor had she made any new friends in this foreign country, where the language barrier was an inconvenience. It was partly due to the language, and partly because Lariesa herself didn't want to. She detested being put in embarrassing situations among strangers. In Grand Duchess Lariesa's opinion, any noble lady she might meet in Etruscan should have been her inferior in status. However, Etruscan—or rather, San Carlo—was a trendsetting nation with a culture that flourished more dazzlingly than the Kingdom of Gallico, and it tended to look down on all things Gallican. Lariesa, who had come from a rural fiefdom, was afraid that the ladies of San Carlo, though of lower birth than herself, would look down on her, so she didn't even go near them. There were no princesses her age in the Etruscan royal family. The only person who could spend time with her was Prince Alfonso. But it had been over three days since she had last seen him.

“Where has Prince Alfonso gone?”

To Lariesa's imperious demand, the prince's aide, Bernardino, answered smoothly, doing his best to hide his fluster.

“Your Highness, welcome. His Highness Prince Alfonso is currently meeting with regional representatives in preparation for the 'Spring Festival.'”

“I'm aware of that. But that was scheduled for around ten this morning. I'm asking where Prince Alfonso is *now*.”

“Your Highness, there has been a minor change to the prince's morning schedule. He was originally scheduled to meet the regional representatives in the royal audience chamber, but an unscheduled site inspection was added, so His Highness went out to the district himself. His later appointments have likely been pushed back by the travel time and the duration of the inspection.”

Lariesa bit her thin lip. The thick rouge she had applied was smudged away, revealing her pale complexion beneath. She knew that Prince Alfonso had some free time around noon today. He had recently been refusing to meet with her, using his busy schedule as an excuse. Prince Alfonso's schedule was indeed packed, so Lariesa hadn't been able to complain, but a crack had finally appeared in his itinerary. She had been waiting for this day with bated breath.

“Why wasn't I informed of this?”

Lariesa was indignant. *I waited all by myself, like a fool...!* But instead of apologizing, Sir Bernardino's expression hardened, and he countered Lariesa de Valois with a question of his own.

“Your Highness. Where did you obtain the prince's schedule?”

Lariesa's eyes widened as she glared at Bernardino.

*'How dare he... how dare he...!'*

She was the type of person who could never admit she was in the wrong. Besides, it wasn't as if she had secretly peeked at the schedule.

“Lady Carla, Her Majesty the Queen's lady-in-waiting, showed it to me! She said that people who are soon to be betrothed should see each other often to grow close.”

Prince Alfonso had declared to Queen Marguerite that he would call off the state marriage with Grand Duchess Lariesa, but the queen had not yet accepted her son's wishes. Lady Carla was aware of the situation, but she had interpreted the queen's silence not as contemplation or observation, but as an outright 'refusal' of the prince's wishes. She tried her best to provide opportunities for the two young people to be together so that Grand Duchess Lariesa could change Prince Alfonso's mind. But that was Lady Carla's judgment, and Sir Bernardino's was different.

“Your Highness, Prince Alfonso's schedule is a document you are not officially permitted to view.”

“What?!”

“Lady Carla may have shown it to you out of kindness, but that was not done through the proper channels.”

Grand Duchess Lariesa was trembling, pale with rage. Bernardino, pretending not to notice her emotions, continued his explanation of the rules and procedures.

“If you wish to see His Highness the Prince, please give me advance notice at any time. I will check for an open date on His Highness's schedule and reply as quickly as possible.”

It was a blatant lie. Whenever Lariesa requested a meeting with Prince Alfonso through Bernardino, he would suggest a date like the Monday after next, only to follow up with a poor suggestion like, 'Wouldn't it be better to see him at an official event?'

“Hmph!”

Unable to contain her anger, Grand Duchess Lariesa merely snorted loudly and turned away from the entrance to the prince's palace with heavy steps.

*'Something's going on... Something has changed... I won't stand for it... I'll make things go back to how they were, no matter what!'*

***

That same day, Giulia de Valdesal wondered why she had even wanted to go out. It might have been because the weather was so lovely, or perhaps she wanted to set a fine example of going out, as if to spite her brother who was always cooped up at home. She had also ignored her mother's nagging to wait until the street festival began next week. Giulia had argued that it would be too crowded and dangerous then, so she left the house with only a maid and a coachman, saying she would just pop out to see the daffodil altar.

“Let me off here.”

“You must stay within my line of sight.”

“I know.”

Answering the coachman, who also served as her guard, perfunctorily, Giulia admired the daffodil altar in the center of Pietro Plaza. Nearly ten thousand bright yellow daffodils covered the area around the marble fountain, which dated back to the Latin Empire. Workmen were setting up a wooden arch, which would also be lavishly covered with thousands of blossoms once completed.

“This would be a truly magnificent sight to see while eating a cannoli.”

“My lady, there's a shop right over there. Shall I go buy one?”

“Yes, hurry back.”

The coachman would be watching her anyway. It wasn't dangerous to be left alone for a moment. Giulia sat by the fountain, basking in the dazzling early spring sunlight. It was then.

*'A daffodil...?'*

More accurately, a man with a face as beautiful as a daffodil was weaving his way through the crowd with short, quick steps. The moment Giulia saw his face, she knew who he was. It was a face too handsome to forget.

*'François...! The *il domestico* of the Leonati family...!'*

He seemed to be out on an errand, carrying a large basket filled with what looked like groceries. Giulia hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to speak to him. She had no idea what she would say if she called out to him, or what kind of conversation a marquis's daughter and another family's servant could possibly have. But if she let him go today, she might never have the chance to see him again. It was an impulsive decision.

“Excuse me!”

The *il domestico* of the Leonati family seemed not to have heard Giulia's voice and continued walking on indifferently. Giulia raised her voice and called out again.

“François!”

Again, he didn't seem to hear. He only quickened his pace. *To hell with it, might as well go for broke.* Giulia shouted loudly.

“François!”

Her pronunciation was perfect, with the accent of the Gallican she had learned. Only then did the tall young man whip his head around. Giulia smiled broadly. Her warm smile erased her cold first impression. But as she strode up to him, the first words she spoke were this:

“How much does the House of Viscount Leonati pay you?”