Sister, I'm the Queen This Life (330 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 316

Princess Bianca’s invitation stated that she would “arrive at San Carlo around next week.” However, the invitation itself had been written a week earlier.

The invitation had departed from Taranto almost simultaneously with the princess herself and arrived slightly ahead of her. Ariadne hastily coordinated with the House of Taranto regarding the date, and as a result, a meeting with the princess was scheduled for the very next day.

Thus, Ariadne was now on her way to the Taranto ducal residence in the capital, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

In her hand, she carried a small yellow glass ornament shaped like a chick—a hurriedly procured item after scouring the workshops of San Carlo.

‘Though I do have the “Madonna of the Daffodils.”’

The “Madonna of the Daffodils” was a rare painting Ariadne had secured early after her return, depicting Bianca’s late mother as its model.

The artist who painted it, Bernardo of Urbino, had since risen meteorically to become the most sought-after emerging artist on the Central Continent.

Although his career-defining commission—the expansion and renovation of Trevero Imperial Cathedral—had not yet begun, even now the “Madonna of the Daffodils” remained a sufficiently valuable gift.

Yet Ariadne had chosen not to bring the painting—not because Bernardo of Urbino had not yet reached the pinnacle of success, but for another reason entirely.

‘Showing up at our first meeting with too extravagant a gift would make me look like a shameless flatterer.’

Unlike her former self from her previous life, who had fumbled through everything, Ariadne now thoroughly understood the nature of those in power. She knew instinctively—without even opening her eyes—how to act to win their favor and how to avoid being swiftly cut down. There were clearly far more important subtle details than vague platitudes like “authenticity is best.”

And yet, authenticity was indeed an essential seasoning—like salt—without which no dish was complete. Without genuine interest and curiosity about the other person, one forfeited any right to expect affection in return. As she stepped down from the carriage, escorted by Il Domestico, Ariadne offered a slight smile.

‘What kind of person is Princess Bianca?’

Arabella would have been the same age as Princess Bianca had she lived. Bianca’s fondness for chick-yellow and checkered patterns suggested an even sweeter taste than Arabella’s.

‘Alfonso also always referred to Bianca as his kind and gentle cousin sister.’

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