— The Private Garden — "Now? Where has she stationed herself?"
"In the private garden, Your Highness."
"The garden?"
Medea's footsteps halted.
The Valdina royal palace harbored a small private garden within its walls—a sanctuary accessible only from the Princess's own chambers.
To enter uninvited was not merely a breach of etiquette—
it was a declaration of dominion.
"I extended no invitation. What purpose brings her?"
In times past, when Medea had placed her trust in Catherine, the Duchess had moved freely through these halls. Yet she had always maintained the pretense of propriety—careful never to invite criticism.
My aunt would never forget proper protocol without reason.
Which meant this display was calculated—a performance for watching eyes, demonstrating that relations between Princess and ducal family remained so intimate that even private sanctuaries held no barriers.
Medea turned toward the maid. The girl's face had gone ashen with mortification.
"Forgive me, Your Highness. I naturally assumed you had summoned her yourself."
Tears gathered at the new maid's lashes, her distress palpable. To her innocent eyes, the Duchess's audacity exceeded all bounds of decency.
"There was no formal request for audience, I presume?"
"N-none, Your Highness..."
Palace protocol dictated that only direct members of the royal family could reside within these walls. All others required advance petition for an audience—a rule the Duchess had seemingly forgotten.
The maid's teeth pressed hard into her lower lip.
"Your Highness, I can escort her out immediately—"
"No. Let her remain."
"Allow them to run unchecked—until their own arrogance trips them."
— The Serpent in Bloom — Medea crossed the threshold into the garden.
The moment the Princess appeared, Catherine rose from her seat with practiced grace.
"You have arrived, Your Highness."
"Sister!"
Birna, who had been amusing herself among the flowerbeds, caught sight of the Princess and bounded forward with feigned innocence.
In her wake lay broken stems and trampled petals. The grass where she had stood was torn and ravaged— evidence of blooms ripped from the earth with careless abandon.
"What occasion brings my aunt to my garden?"
Medea surveyed the abandoned flowers for a moment, then inclined her head in acknowledgment.
"Birna. You are here as well, I see."
The Princess's response carried its characteristic frost.
Catherine swallowed the unease rising in her throat.
She is still wrathful. I had hoped sufficient time had passed for her anger to cool... but clearly, I was mistaken.
"Your Highness, please forgive this presumptuous intrusion."
Catherine approached with sorrow painted across her lovely features, brows drawn together in artful distress.
"My heart has been utterly shattered, contemplating how deeply wounded Your Highness—who possesses such a tender spirit—must have been..."
Tears glistened in the Duchess's eyes as she gestured to the maid standing behind her.
"I could bear it no longer. I investigated the matter myself and recovered what was lost."
The maid received her signal and presented a large velvet chest.
When the lid rose, gasps rippled through the assembled servants.
💎 Ruby bracelets and earrings.
An emerald necklace of breathtaking clarity.
Treasures that blazed with captured light.
Every piece Medea had distributed to her maids—gathered together once more, restored to their velvet prison.
"How distressed you must have been, reduced to such measures. But worry no longer—I have reclaimed everything."
Weight and solemnity infused her words.
"So long as this aunt stands beside you, Your Royal Highness shall never endure such indignity again."
Silence stretched between them.
"...Your Highness?"
Why does she not respond?
Irritation flickered beneath Catherine's composed exterior.
She had purchased every jewel the maids had resold—even paying inflated premiums to recover pieces scattered across the city's merchant quarters. Stubborn dealers who sensed opportunity had demanded outrageous sums.
To repurchase Medea's discarded treasures, she had even dipped into funds earmarked for... other purposes.
I shall have to replenish those coffers and dispatch them separately... What a tiresome complication.
The entire scheme had unraveled. Yet she'd had no alternative—not when rumors painted the Duke's family as miserly guardians starving their royal niece.
A faint smile touched the Princess's lips as she gazed down at the glittering display.
"I thank you, Aunt, for your thoughtful gesture."
But that was all.
No tears of gratitude. No embrace of relief. No collapse into her aunt's waiting arms.
The Princess remained utterly, infuriatingly composed—her demeanor suggesting natural entitlement, as though she merely reclaimed what had always belonged to her.
From the sidelines, Birna seethed with envy.
How dare she receive such gifts with such cold indifference? Even tears of gratitude would scarcely suffice!
She opened her mouth to voice her displeasure, but her mother's sharp glare silenced her instantly. Birna's lips twisted into a sullen pout.
As though oblivious to the silent exchange between mother and daughter, Medea calmly transferred the jewelry box to her maid's keeping.
"A gift from my aunt's heart. Guard it well."
Catherine's pride stung, yet her position afforded no room for objection. She swallowed her wounded vanity and pressed forward.
"Your Highness, I implore you to trust this aunt. House Claudio stands forever at your side."
For the briefest instant, mockery flickered through Medea's dark green eyes—though no one present perceived it.
"I do trust you, Aunt. And therefore..."
"You cannot betray that trust."
Strange heat burned in the Princess's gaze.
Catherine startled involuntarily, though she failed to notice how her own hands had clenched, fabric crumpling beneath white-knuckled fingers.
"Of—of course not, Your Highness."
— The Queen Mother's Command — Hurried footsteps shattered the tension.
A maid from the Queen Mother's palace appeared, whispering urgently to Medea. The Princess's eyebrows rose slightly at whatever intelligence was conveyed.
Then another figure entered the garden with measured, deliberate steps.
"I greet Your Highness the Princess."
Catherine recognized him at once—the Queen Mother's personal attendant, standing straight and composed in his blue livery.
Displeasure stirred within her. To have her private audience interrupted...
"I bear a summons from Her Majesty the Queen Mother."
He delivered his message without preamble.
"Her Royal Highness Princess Medea is commanded to present herself immediately."
Only after completing his pronouncement did the servant turn.
"The Duchess and Lady Birna are likewise summoned."
He offered only a brief acknowledgment before adding:
"Your Royal Highness, please make ready with haste."
Medea inclined her head in calm acceptance.
Catherine, however, stepped closer to the attendant, concern knitting her brow.
"Why does Her Majesty summon our Princess so suddenly?"
The Queen Mother typically demonstrated little interest in whether Medea lived or perished. This abrupt command defied all expectation.
When the servant maintained his silence, Catherine discreetly pressed a small pouch of gold coins into his palm.
"It would be inappropriate, Your Grace..."
Yet after her repeated insistence, he relented.
"Madame Cuisine, the head maid, has presented herself before Her Majesty."
"She levels grave accusations against Her Highness Princess Medea."
"Her Majesty's disposition is... decidedly foul."
Birna's heart leapt with secret delight.
The head maid went directly to Grandmother? How marvelous!
Medea, you are about to receive quite the scolding. Today shall be most tearful for you indeed.
Catherine, meanwhile, felt mortification rise like bile in her throat—though her expression betrayed nothing.
The head maid? I expressly warned that woman to bide her time.
To report directly to the Queen Mother meant Cuisine had bypassed both Catherine and the Duke's household entirely—despite explicit instructions to the contrary.
It required four months to resolve the complications that woman caused last time. If she creates another scandal...
My husband will be furious beyond measure. My influence will erode further still.
Cuisine, what madness has possessed you?
"Your Royal Highness, please prepare yourself swiftly. Her Majesty has already waited overlong."
The servant pressed Medea with increasing urgency.
"I shall accompany you, naturally. I simply cannot feel at ease sending our dear Princess to face this alone."
The attendant nodded acceptance. His mission, after all, was securing the Princess—additional guests were immaterial.
"Your Highness, I shall prevent the Queen Mother from speaking harshly to you."
Catherine must have interpreted Medea's silence as fear. She reached out to pat the Princess's back with maternal affection.
"Trust your Aunt. I shall shield you from harm."
Medea's expression remained utterly impassive.
She merely inclined her head—
"I am counting on it."
—with complete and devastating indifference.
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