Sister, I'm the Queen This Life (330 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 11

“You can’t come in until we’re sure you haven’t caught some filthy disease!”

– Clang.

Lucrezia and Isabella thoroughly upheld their bold declaration. Using quarantine as a pretext, they immediately confined Ariadne to the stable outside the mansion the moment she returned from Lambouyé Orphanage.

The irony was that while they imprisoned Ariadne under the excuse of isolation, they took Maleta and Sancha inside right away.

“What is this child?”

Lucrezia’s sharp voice echoed through the corridor as she met Sancha for the first time. Ariadne calmly replied,

“She’s a child I brought back from the orphanage.”

“Do you even have any sense at all? Who gave you the right to pick up random people off the street?”

Lucrezia truly seemed offended.

“You’re outrageously brazen! You say sorry and claim you’ve done wrong, yet why do you keep acting so willfully with every single step you take?”

She jerked her chin toward Sancha, who stood with her head bowed deeply, and shouted,

“I can’t possibly keep this vagrant here! We don’t even know what she might be carrying—throw her out at once!”

Just as the servants moved to drag Sancha away, Ariadne pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to Lucrezia.

“Mother, please take a look at this.”

“What is it?”

Lucrezia didn’t even touch the handkerchief, eyeing it suspiciously. The fabric was fine muslin, edged with lace—far too luxurious for something belonging to Ariadne.

“Don’t tell me you stole it?”

“Of course not!”

When Lucrezia still refused to accept it, Ariadne turned the side embroidered with golden thread reading “AFC” toward her.

“It belongs to His Highness Prince Alfonso de Carlo.”

Lucrezia’s eyebrows shot up instantly. Isabella’s eyes also changed.

“I happened to meet His Highness at the orphanage. I only intended to care for this child while she stayed there, but the Prince praised Cardinal de Mare, saying his benevolence toward the poor runs very deep.”

Ariadne watched Lucrezia’s expression carefully as she added,

“His Highness assumed I was taking the child to give her a job. I couldn’t bear to deny it outright… wouldn’t that tarnish His Eminence the Cardinal’s name?”

Lucrezia had no intention of tolerating Ariadne’s antics any longer—whether she leveraged Prince Alfonso or Cardinal de Mare.

The Cardinal was still scrutinizing Lucrezia’s household accounts due to her previous scheme of siphoning money from her natal family under the guise of hiring private tutors.

Just imagining having to present the ledger—now burdened with unnecessary expenses caused by Ariadne—to Cardinal de Mare, and facing his wrath because of her, gave Lucrezia a sudden pounding headache and a surge of irritation.

“You’ve got nothing but a mouth! Both of you, get out! Go hold hands and run back to the orphanage! Do you take me for a fool to behave so recklessly?”

Isabella’s greed rescued the situation from Lucrezia’s boiling fury.

“Prince Alfonso…? How did you meet him?”

Isabella’s violet eyes gleamed with greed. Ariadne chose her words carefully to avoid provoking her further.

“Since Lambouyé Orphanage is managed by Her Majesty the Queen, I suppose he came for an inspection. His Highness was personally overseeing the distribution of meals across the entire orphanage.”

Upon hearing this, Isabella immediately whirled around and began pleading with Lucrezia.

“Mama! Next week, I want to go to Lambouyé Orphanage too!”

“Isabella! Do you even know what kind of place that is? You can’t go!”

Lucrezia slapped Isabella’s shoulder.

“There are grand masses and tea parties where you can see the prince! Not the orphanage!”

Isabella seemed slightly annoyed, but after exhaling sharply, she composed her expression and gave Lucrezia a sweet smile.

“Mama, fine—I won’t go to the orphanage. But in return, please let us keep this poor child.”

“Now you’re acting on your own whim too? Am I really that easy for you?!”

“Oh, come on, Mama! If I meet His Highness at a tea party, I’ll need something to talk about, won’t I?”

Scolding Lucrezia, Isabella grew even more indignant.

“Since Father hasn’t established any connection with Prince Alfonso at all, I have to use my wits like this! At least don’t stand in my way!”

While Lucrezia was flustered by Isabella’s audacious tantrum, Isabella marched over to Ariadne and snatched the handkerchief.

“I’ll keep this.”

Ariadne unconsciously tightened her grip out of instinctive resentment, but with no way to refuse, she reluctantly let go after a brief resistance.

Holding Prince Alfonso’s handkerchief, Isabella beamed at Ariadne. Her ash-blond hair shimmered, and her delicate features glowed like a fairy’s.

“Good job.”

Hearing Isabella’s condescending tone—as if speaking to a servant—Ariadne clenched her jaw and controlled her expression. Playing Isabella’s servant—just as she had in her past life, and still in this one.

“No, sister.”

Lucrezia ordered Ariadne to be taken back to the outside stable, then led Isabella and the rest of the household inside. Maleta and Sancha followed hesitantly at the tail end of the group.

As Lucrezia turned her back and the others followed her, creating a commotion, Sancha slipped briefly to Ariadne’s side.

The small, frail girl whispered quietly,

“Thank you so much for saving me, Miss. I will repay this kindness someday.”

[This is the timeline separator]

On a bright day as spring turned to summer, Ariadne—living in a stable with makeshift plank walls and straw for a mattress—received an unexpected summons.

“Miss Ariadne, Madam says you’re to come out, bathe, and get ready.”

Maleta had arrived with apprentice Sancha to announce the end of her confinement.

It was the tenth day of imprisonment.

“I was prepared to stay a whole month. What’s happened?”

Before Maleta could reply, the eager Sancha blurted out first,

“A carriage has come from the palace! They’ve specially sent for you, Miss Ariadne!”

Ariadne smiled faintly. This was an opportunity she hadn’t even planned for—to repay Lucrezia for ten days in the stable.

Ariadne followed the maids up to her room on the third floor.

Inside the small attic room lay a neat ivory silk dress and a noble young lady’s pure white chemise meant to be worn underneath.

They weren’t especially expensive garments, but among everything she’d touched since her return, they were the loveliest.

Yet instead of coveting the clothes, Ariadne smiled gently and turned to Sancha.

“Hey, let’s play a game—let’s swap outfits.”

“What?”

“The chemise. You wear that one. I’ll wear what you have on now.”

Even the maids were startled. Moreover, Maleta’s face twisted when Ariadne singled out Sancha instead of herself. Sancha, bewildered but obedient, took off her own clothes and handed them to Ariadne.

Ariadne exchanged her chemise for Sancha’s and then put on the dress provided by the de Mare household. Where the white lace of the chemise should have peeked out, dingy cotton underwear now showed instead.

She neatly combed her hair, completed the bare essentials of an outing ensemble, and descended to the ground floor.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Mama, Mama! Why did Queen Marguerite suddenly invite us to mass?”

“She must have heard of our lovely Isabella and grown curious to see your face!”

Inside the carriage, an exuberant mother-daughter parade of mutual flattery was underway.

“Will His Highness the Prince be there too? Just in case, I brought the handkerchief.”

Isabella fluttered the handkerchief embroidered with the initials “AFC.” She had carefully washed it, sprayed it with perfume, and kept it close.

Isabella herself looked like a porcelain doll. She’d dabbed rouge onto her naturally rosy cheeks to heighten their flush, darkened and thickened her lashes with charcoal mixed in oil, and styled her ash-blond hair half-up in the fashionable Porto Republic style, leaving the rest in soft waves.

Her dress was the same ivory traveling gown as Ariadne’s, yet incomparably more elegant.

Already a beautiful girl, her painstaking efforts made it seem as though every light around her dimmed, leaving only Isabella shining brightly.

According to Etruscan custom, debutantes were forbidden from wearing colored cosmetics.

Plain-faced and shabby, Ariadne sat quietly as a shell in the farthest corner of the carriage, avoiding comparison with Isabella as she endured the extravagant mother-daughter duo.

– Neigh!

The carriage arrived at Palazzo Carlo in central San Carlo with a horse’s snort. At the palace’s inner gate, after passing the outer entrance, the cheerful mother and daughter alighted, followed by Ariadne, and were greeted by a palace steward.

“Welcome, relatives of Cardinal de Mare.”

The steward skillfully avoided calling Lucrezia “Madam” or referring to them as the clergyman’s “family.”

Instead, with impeccable court etiquette, he escorted the three to an outer reception room designated for Queen Marguerite’s private masses. It was a modest yet refined chapel.

At the chapel’s altar, a priest in white vestments was just beginning to speak. In the front pew, a dignified woman in her forties, veiled in a lace mantilla, bowed her head reverently.

Behind her, a couple of maids were about to join in prayer.

The priest was conducting the mass in Galico.

‘Queen Marguerite.’

Ariadne had never met Queen Marguerite in her past life, but she recognized her instantly from portraits.

Even without those, the Queen’s noble bearing and attire made her identity unmistakable.

– “Oh, what should we do?”

Lucrezia, with no experience meeting royalty, panicked and whispered to Isabella.

One ought to greet the Queen first upon an audience—but interrupting Her Majesty during prayer would be gravely disrespectful. Isabella was just as clueless.

Ariadne glanced briefly at the flustered pair, then calmly took a seat several rows behind Queen Marguerite and began praying alongside her.

– “Mama!”

Isabella was quick on the uptake. She nudged Lucrezia’s side to direct her attention toward Ariadne, then quickly sat beside Ariadne to join in prayer.

Though irked that Ariadne had taken the better seat first—rolling her eyes once—she knew this was the best option for now.

Once the elder daughter had settled, Lucrezia timidly sat beside her and began praying as well.

“-And therefore the Gon of Jesarche sacrificed himself and saved the sinners, for they are imperfect yet still his children.”

[“-Thus, Gon of Yessak sacrificed Himself to save imperfect humans.”]

The priest’s prayer was nearing its conclusion.

“We can only ponder what went through Gon of Jesarche’s mind when he sacrificed himself for the immoral, selfish, dundering ones under his wings. The noble, rich, witful or spiritual ones must care for the others first before saving themselves in order to replicate Gon of Jesarche’s way of living. Amen.”

[“What must Gon of Yessak have thought, sacrificing Himself for the immoral, selfish, and foolish beneath His wings? Those blessed—with wealth, status, or spirit—must always care for those less fortunate. That is the goodness humans are not born with but must always strive toward. Amen.”]

“Amen.”

The voices of all the women in the chapel rang out together.

Isabella’s “Amen” stood out—especially loud and clear—as she desperately sought the Queen’s attention.

Had Isabella even understood a word of the mass? Ariadne instinctively frowned, then caught herself and smoothed her brow into a pretty, placid line.

Such forced attention-seeking was, in truth, foolish. Isabella herself, just ten years older, would never have behaved this way.

Yet this cruel rival—who had tormented Ariadne cunningly all her life and ultimately succeeded in locking her away in the West Tower—was still just a seventeen-year-old girl caught in adolescence.

At the unusually loud “Amen,” the veiled noblewoman turned around. Her hair, like her son’s, was radiant gold. Sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window gently embraced her serene features.

The Queen’s expression was kind, but her steel-gray eyes were cold.

Her gaze settled on Isabella.

Noticing the Queen’s attention, Ariadne—seated beside Isabella—bowed her head once more, respectfully.

Realizing the Queen’s eyes were upon her, Isabella opened her mouth, driven by her instinctive desire for attention.

“Oh, heavens…!”

All eyes instantly turned to Isabella.