Chapter 13

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Becoming the Prince's First Love
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Surely she wouldn't try to claim that chemise was hers too. Anyone could see it belonged to a kitchen maid.

"It seems Lucrezia is raising Cardinal de Mare's second daughter worse than a servant."

"Even a distant relative or a lady-in-waiting wouldn't be dressed like that. It truly is a servant's dress."

Isabella's pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck. There was no way to salvage the situation. Her face flushed crimson as she debated whether to lie further or simply flee. Just then, Queen Marguerite, who had been silent, tossed a single question at Isabella.

"Is that chemise something you used to wear as well?"

Isabella went pale and clamped her mouth shut like a clamshell. For a girl of only seventeen, she was remarkably quick to assess the situation. When cornered, the best course of action is to say little and escape. But Lucrezia, not as clever as her own daughter, tried to salvage things somehow.

"That is... I didn't dress her like that. It seems the maids must have switched her clothes!"

Queen Marguerite clicked her tongue. In her attempt to deny tormenting her husband's illegitimate daughter, Lucrezia had effectively confessed to being completely incapable of managing her own household. The queen decisively waved her hand, cutting Lucrezia off.

"Enough. Take that child, give her a proper chemise, and have her change."

One of Queen Marguerite's ladies-in-waiting bowed and took Ariadne's hand to help her up. Ariadne, summoning all her acting skills, widened her eyes with a look of pure innocence, glancing around as she was led to her feet. As she left the queen's drawing room, she saw Lucrezia in her peripheral vision, face beet-red with shame, gasping for breath. Queen Marguerite had just delivered a social death sentence to Lucrezia.

"Miss. de. Rossi. I will have the Cardinal's second daughter change her clothes and keep her with me a while longer. You and the Cardinal's eldest daughter may take your leave."

The blunt dismissal was the final, devastating blow. The use of her maiden name, the implication that the children were the Cardinal's alone and not hers, and the outright command to leave her circle—it was a collection of treatments straight from Lucrezia's worst nightmares.

The path to the queen's private chambers, following the lady-in-waiting, was all too familiar to Ariadne. It was the palace where she had lived for nine years as the Prince Regent's fiancée. This was a back route, leading through a side door into the queen's quarters. It was seldom used, which was why Ariadne had always taken it when she needed to move stealthily for Cesare's sake. In other words, this was the path where all of her past life's misdeeds had begun.

*I wish I could erase it all from my memory.*

If she could erase it all, if she could avoid committing those sins again, if she could finally live as the upright and good person she had always wanted to be, wouldn't her past transgressions be nullified? Wouldn't the price of her sins be forgiven? Lost in thought, Ariadne walked right into the back of the queen's lady-in-waiting, who had stopped abruptly.

"Ouch."

But it was the lady-in-waiting's voice that was sharp.

"Your Highness, Prince Alfonso."

The queen's lady-in-waiting had stopped and bowed deeply. Ariadne, who had bumped into her, hastily stepped back and bowed a moment too late. Her past sin was staring at her in the form of a fair, handsome boy.

"Ariadne?"

"Alfonso?"

The secluded back path was poorly lit, but a timely patch of sunlight broke through, brilliantly illuminating Prince Alfonso's golden hair. A bitter smile touched Ariadne's lips as she remembered the day she had used this very path to leave the queen's palace, meet Alfonso, and lead him to his death. But the Alfonso before her now was an innocent seventeen-year-old boy, untouched by the struggles for power.

"Alfonso, you were a prince?"

But even in this life, Ariadne could not afford to be honest. Honesty was a luxury for those who had everything. With nothing to her name, she had to use lies and deceit to claw her way to safety. She needed Prince Alfonso's favor and, yes, perhaps even his proposal. There would be countless hardships to overcome, but if she succeeded...?

"Lady de Mare! How dare you!"

Ariadne had been worried about her own poor acting, but the lady-in-waiting's dramatic outburst more than compensated for any shortcomings.

"This is His Royal Highness, Prince Alfonso de Carlo, the only child of His Majesty King Leo III and Her Majesty Queen Marguerite!"

Alfonso stopped the furious lady-in-waiting.

"Carla, that's enough. I didn't tell her on purpose. Ariadne didn't know."

The lady-in-waiting, Carla, glared at Ariadne, her eyes screaming, *'How is that even possible!'* Ariadne bowed her head to avoid the sharp gaze.

"My deepest apologies, Your Highness."

Ariadne offered Alfonso a perfectly courteous greeting, all while keeping a wary eye on Carla.

"I have committed a great disrespect. I humbly beg Your Highness for your generous forgiveness just this once."

Strictly speaking, a Cardinal's daughter had no need to defer to a queen's lady-in-waiting. But from the looks of it, this woman was one of the queen's personal and most trusted attendants. Everything that happened here would surely be reported to Queen Marguerite in detail. Even though the queen had just taken Ariadne's side and shamed Lucrezia, it wasn't because she was fond of Ariadne. It was more likely due to her hatred for Lucrezia—or more accurately, for all mistresses and concubines. Queen Marguerite had suffered greatly her entire life because of King Leo III's mistress, Countess Rubina, who was Cesare's mother. Lucrezia had simply been a convenient target for her frustrations. If the queen found out that Ariadne had treated her only son with disrespect, she would change her attitude in the blink of an eye.

"Hmph. You've been well-schooled in etiquette, I see."

As Carla's sharp eyes softened at Ariadne's formal apology, it was Prince Alfonso who began to pout.

"I don't like that."

"Pardon...?"

"Inside the palace, everyone calls me 'Your Highness.' No one ever calls me Alfonso. I finally meet someone who doesn't know I'm a prince, and now this."

*Well, you've been deceived, but...*

"Your Highness. A person's station, nobility, and even their innate character are defined by their status. It is only natural that people see you as a prince, not merely an individual. You must accept this."

At Carla's nagging, a dark look clouded Alfonso's kind, perfectly handsome eyes. It was a look of boredom and irritation. It seemed even the most proper person couldn't escape teenage rebellion. Suddenly, the prince's eyes sparkled. As if struck by a fun idea, his eyes filled with mirth, and he abruptly grabbed Ariadne's wrist and bolted away from the queen's private chambers.

"Ariadne, let's go!"

"Aaaah!"

Only the bewildered cry of the lady-in-waiting echoed behind them.

"Your Highness!! Where are you going?! Your Highness!!!"

The place Prince Alfonso dragged Ariadne to was a small, secluded fountain. Ivy vines crept up the old stone, and untended daffodils bloomed here and there.

"...It's so beautiful."

Prince Alfonso smiled with pride. The boyish, mischievous grin of an adolescent was rather endearing, and Ariadne found herself smiling along. She decided to speak informally. It was a complete breach of etiquette, but her woman's intuition whispered that it would be all right.

"You really hate being treated like a prince, don't you?"

"This is much better."

They looked at each other and giggled, sharing an inexplicable sense of rebellion. A bond of camaraderie formed from doing something they weren't supposed to. After laughing until her stomach hurt, Ariadne decided to play along with Alfonso.

"At the almshouse the other day... they gave you a different meal."

A shadow fell over Alfonso's face. He seemed to resent the special treatment he received as a prince, like a bird trapped in a cage. Ariadne paused for a moment before asking.

"So, what should I call you? You?"

"Call me 'Alfonso'."

Ariadne smiled shyly at the prince's casualness and shook her head.

"I can't do that, Your Highness."

"Why the sudden change?"

"Didn't you see Lady Carla's face earlier? She looked like she was ready to kill me."

*She did jump and call it an outrage, that's for sure.*

"If she catches me calling you 'Alfonso,' I doubt she'd let me off easy."

"But I don't like 'Your Highness'."

"Then, how about we..."

Ariadne's eyes twinkled.

"make up a secret name?"

Alfonso looked at Ariadne. The boy's clear face held no trace of malice, but his attitude carried the inertia of a man accustomed to privilege.

"So you'd dare to be even more impertinent and not just use my name, but a nickname for the sole heir to the Etruscan throne? You're quite confident, my lady."

A younger lady might have thought she'd made a mistake and become discouraged. But Ariadne, who had been through thick and thin, didn't even blink. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and feigned a stern expression.

"If you keep that up, I'll go back to calling you 'Your Highness'."

Jackpot. Alfonso's expression soured.

"Please. Anything but that."

"Your Royal Highness, your munificence knows no bounds. We pray for the continued preservation of your sacred person. Shall I continue in this vein?"

"No, no. Not that."

Alfonso vehemently refused, waving a white flag of surrender.

"I'm sorry. Do whatever you want. Anything is fine."

Having gained the upper hand, Ariadne made a simple suggestion.

"How about 'Al'?"

The prince shook his head. He didn't seem to like it.

"'Phonso'?"

"'Phonso' sounds less like a nickname and more like a real name. Like an alias, not a pet name."

The prince's resistance to her choice of nicknames was strong. But there was a solution for this, too. Ariadne strode closer to Alfonso and took his hand. It was large and thick for a boy's. She knew that in a few years, this hand would become even stronger. Ariadne gently forced his palm open and traced a letter on it with her finger. — A.

"Dear A. Let's go with this."

Caught off guard by the sudden contact, Alfonso froze and stared at Ariadne. The woman in a girl's guise smiled brightly and pulled her hand from his grasp. The warmth left him.

"I think I should get going now."

Ariadne stood and looked back at Alfonso. Her simple ivory dress looked surprisingly fitting amidst the old fountain and lush ivy. It occurred to Alfonso that the young lady before him blended into the scene perfectly, as if she were a part of the castle itself.

"I was on my way with the lady-in-waiting because Her Majesty the Queen said she would gift me some clothes, but then we ran off like this. If I stay out too long, I'll get into trouble."

He wanted to stop her, but her reason was undeniable.

"Ah, that's true. My mother wouldn't be very pleased if she found out I was with you."

Ariadne was a little surprised and looked at Alfonso directly. He seemed so cheerful and carefree that she'd thought him oblivious, but this prince actually had a keen understanding of his own situation. It was quite interesting. Alfonso hesitated before speaking.

"Actually, there's something I didn't tell you."

*I have plenty I haven't told you, too. I knew you were a prince, I killed you with my own hands in my past life, you were married to my sister, and oh, right, I've regressed in time.* Unable to say any of that, Ariadne simply nodded and asked Alfonso.

"What is it?"

"The truth is, my mother probably summoned you today because of me."

Ariadne smiled faintly. She could see exactly what had happened as if she were looking into the palm of her hand.

"You told her about me, that we met at the almshouse."

She continued without hesitation.

"She must have been curious about her son's new friend."

"How did you know?"

Alfonso couldn't hide his surprise. He had never met anyone who seemed to read his mind so perfectly. A mother summoning a girl her son just met to investigate her background and character seemed a bit like an obsessive mother-in-law, but looking at the seventeen-year-old prince through the eyes of a thirty-year-old, she could understand the sentiment. With his deep blue eyes, prominent nose, and strong jawline, Prince Alfonso was the perfect, handsome prince, as if he had stepped out of an ancient myth. If the past Ariadne had had such a son, she would have set his curfew at 4 p.m. and banned all maids from his quarters, allowing only male servants.

"But my mother never told me she had invited you today. I just had a feeling she might have, so I came to check."

She hadn't realized it before, but it seemed Queen Marguerite had all the makings of an obsessive mother-in-law. Ariadne quickly considered how to respond. Normally, the basic rule of social interaction was to praise someone's mother, but here was a teenage boy complaining about his mother to someone he'd barely met. Replying with "Your mother must have had her reasons" would be like saying, "I'm a nag, so please don't associate with me anymore." For Ariadne, who had navigated the highest echelons of society for nine years, this calculation was instantaneous.

"You must not have much freedom."

Ariadne took a step closer and tucked a stray lock of Alfonso's hair behind his ear.

"It must be suffocating."

The girl's hand brushed against the boy's smooth hair. His eyes widened, his body stiffening as he stared at the girl who had stepped so close. *Someone who understands me, who I can talk to, who smells nice.* Her green eyes, her elegant nose, her red lips—they came into his view one by one. He had always thought eyes were just eyes, but now he could read countless stories in her green irises, framed by thick, dark lashes. Until yesterday, Alfonso de Carlo had been just a child. He had never been particularly interested in other people, especially not girls his age who didn't share his interests. He had been more curious about events, games to be played, and studies to be done than about people. Only today did he feel like he had become a man, or at least a young man. His heart pounded, and he couldn't stop thinking about her green eyes. The sparkle in them, the way they crinkled when she smiled, her eyelashes—after picturing them all, his mind moved to her nose, and then her lips. It was the first time another person's features had ever been so meaningfully etched into his memory.