Valdina Prison
Quiggin had perished after enduring the severing of the tendons in both hands and countless lashings.
Maria had received the identical punishment—yet somehow, she still clung to life.
Step.
Step.
Footsteps echoed against the wet stone floor.
Maria forced her eyes open, her voice emerging as a croak.
"Who... who is there?"
Medea stood beyond the iron bars, watching in silence.
"It has been some time, Maria."
"Your Royal Highness!"
Terror flooded Maria's voice.
She had witnessed firsthand how Quiggin met her end. In Maria's fractured mind, Medea had transformed into something monstrous—an omnipotent axis of evil from which there was no escape.
"Please, Your Highness—save me. I will do anything you command. Anything at all. Please, I beg you."
Yet paradoxically, Medea was also her sole salvation—the only god capable of delivering Maria from this hell.
"I cannot trust you any longer."
"I was wrong! I will never betray you again—never. I am your servant, only yours!"
Maria dragged herself forward on her elbows, her severed tendons making every movement agony. She pressed her bloodied face against the hem of Medea's dress, desperate beyond all dignity.
> " That is precisely the problem. What promises won't a cornered creature make? These are words spoken at the edge of the abyss. Once you step back to safety, everything will be forgotten. "
"No! That is not true!"
Maria thrashed as though seized by fever. Why had she done it? Why had she dared to scale that wall and betray her mistress?
"I am your eternal servant, Your Highness. For the sake of what we once shared—please..."
A small vial clinked against the stone floor before her.
Clink.
"Grass pea. The juice extracted from this plant induces progressive paralysis. The toxin is exceptionally potent—without regular doses of the antidote, your entire body will gradually stiffen. Eventually, your lungs will seize, your breathing will cease, and you will die."
Maria stared at the vial, uncomprehending.
"Human memory is remarkably short. There may come a time when you wish to forget today's oath. This will ensure you do not."
"Your Highness, I—"
"Drink it. Then I shall save you. I will have your hands treated and provide you with the antidote. Naturally."
Understanding crashed over Maria like a wave.
Of course. There existed no world in which the Princess would save her so easily. This was the woman who had disposed of the Head Maid with an expression of perfect innocence, as though she knew nothing at all. What was a poisonous plant compared to that?
"Can I trust you, Maria?"
The Princess's expression remained perfectly serene.
Silence stretched between them like a blade.
Maria grasped the vial with trembling, mangled hands. Her damaged tendons made her fingers slip repeatedly. Tears and mucus streaked down her face, mingling with blood and grime.
Medea observed with cold, unblinking eyes.
Maria is Samon's lover.
She still possesses her uses. A pawn—the smallest, most expendable piece upon the chessboard.
But she makes perfect bait. Useful for luring others before being discarded.
She will remain a pawn until she reaches the far edge of enemy territory, on the verge of transformation.
Gulp.
Maria drained the vial and raised her head, gasping.
"I am your servant. So please..."
"Yes, Maria."
Medea's smile bloomed—beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
"I trust you. Do not disappoint me again."
Maria could not breathe. She could only shake her head frantically, again and again.
The Queen Mother's Summons
When the tempest of reform sweeping through the royal household finally subsided, the Queen Mother summoned Medea.
"Which jewels would Your Highness prefer to wear?"
The maid gestured toward the collection before her. Medea stood in a pale blue dress, considering.
"This will suffice."
She selected a simple string necklace bearing a single modest pearl.
"But Your Highness, is that not too understated? You are visiting the Queen Mother—permit us to adorn you properly."
Medea dismissed the suggestion with a wave.
The simpler and more unassuming my appearance, the more likely I am to secure the Queen Mother's sympathy.
Though she can no longer mistreat me openly as before, I cannot afford to lower my guard for even a moment.
She rose. Despite her understated attire, her posture was perfectly straight, her expression composed and confident. She radiated quiet integrity.
"I shall escort you, Your Highness."
Baroness Pinatelli had been waiting for Medea to complete her preparations.
As they proceeded toward the Queen Mother's palace, the Baroness spoke with careful deliberation.
"The Queen Mother carries regret for the past, Your Highness. I hope you might endeavor to understand her position."
Medea listened without responding.
"She is a lonely woman, still consumed by grief. Though she may treat Your Highness with coldness at times, she truly cherishes Valdina's bloodline more than anyone. She wishes to protect you."
Medea recognized this for what it was—a subtle warning regarding the Regent and his wife.
"I understand. I possess sufficient maturity to distinguish between sweet flattery and bitter medicine. I hold no resentment toward my grandmother."
Relief washed across Baroness Pinatelli's features. Though she had pursued the position of Head Maid partly to avenge her family, her affection for the Queen Mother remained genuine. She had worried that Medea might harbor bitterness.
"I can only admire Your Highness's generosity and wisdom. Please, come with me. Her Majesty awaits."
As they entered the palace, cheerful laughter drifted from within.
"Does grandmother still consider me a child?"
"You certainly conduct yourself like a troublemaker."
"Birna only desires grandmother's love!"
Birna's voice—bright and musical.
After the Queen Mother had drawn her sword against them and Duke Claudio's family had been expelled from the palace in disgrace, they had been uncertain how to recover. The shame of being labeled "collateral branch" had proven overwhelming.
But clever Catherine had swiftly discerned the Queen Mother's true intentions. Rather than resist, they had surrendered—voluntarily relinquishing the privileges they had once enjoyed, lowering their defenses.
Day after day, Catherine brought Birna to visit the Queen Mother. At first, the old woman had been furious. But her granddaughter—whom she had always cherished—came faithfully and performed her charming antics until, gradually and inevitably, the Queen Mother's defenses crumbled.
Though the Claudio mother and daughter no longer resided within the palace proper, they occupied the Queen's quarters from morning until the palace gates closed each evening.
"Medea will arrive shortly. Compose yourselves."
"Oh, but I wish to remain as well! I have missed her terribly!"
"Hush, child. No one is sending you away."
Even beyond the door, Birna's melodious voice carried with perfect clarity.
Baroness Pinatelli cast a glance toward Medea.
"I was unaware that Duke Claudio's daughter remained present. Perhaps Your Highness would prefer to return when Her Majesty is alone?"
She harbored hopes for reconciliation between the two granddaughters, yet the constant presence of the Claudio mother and daughter stirred her suspicions regarding their true motives.
The Queen Mother's Chamber
"I greet you, Grandmother."
Medea pushed open the doors and entered, her steps measured and unhesitating.
"Hmm."
The Queen Mother's gaze fixed upon her. Previously, anger had blinded her to Medea's bearing. Now she could truly observe.
Posture. Expression. Gait. To her surprise, everything proved flawless.
The Queen Mother, who had spent her entire existence navigating palace intrigues, was exacting in her standards. Yet even with her critical eye, she could identify no fault in Medea.
"Sit."
The Queen Mother personally poured the tea. Medea accepted it with composure, sipping with practiced grace.
Throughout the ritual, the Queen Mother continued her assessment, examining and evaluating every gesture. Still, she discovered nothing to criticize.
The elegance radiating from this girl—daughter of a lowborn dancer—was almost heartbreaking.
Medea kept her eyes appropriately lowered. She knew the Queen Mother was scrutinizing her every movement.
She felt no nervousness.
I have grown so accustomed to this.
In her previous life, when she had followed Jason to the Katzen Empire, countless courtiers had attacked her. Rumors of the half-cursed Princess had spread throughout the empire, and Medea's clumsy bearing—utterly devoid of royal dignity—had only confirmed their prejudices.
Only after arriving at the Empire had she recognized her own foolishness. She had felt ashamed for learning nothing during her years under her uncle's protection. At the time, she had believed that was why Jason never invited her to palace functions—because he could not display an Empress so inadequate, so deficient.
So she had tried harder.
She had overhauled everything—her speech, her manners, her every gesture—until not a single flaw remained. Bloody, relentless practice had followed.
Medea had refused to embarrass her beloved husband.
The national treasures, the royal palace, the ancestral tombs—she had created everything Jason enjoyed. Yet he had always made her feel like a debtor, perpetually owing him more.
It was all pointless.
Jason, who had stolen his wife's very spine. Rather than repaying her devotion, he had stolen her position and bestowed it upon Saint Rachel.
I should have spent that time holding my children instead.
What good was that cheap devotion offered to someone like Jason? Even if she had given her children—whom she loved more than her own eyes—twice the affection, it would not have been sufficient.
Lian. Leah.
This foolish mother's regret cut deeper than any betrayal by her husband.
Her green eyes glimmered briefly with emotion before the feeling settled into something cold and deep.
The years of suffering had been painful, yet they had not been entirely squandered. Now that fate had granted her a second chance, the bleeding wounds of her past life had become Medea's weapons.
"Your etiquette has improved remarkably."
The Queen Mother's tone was cool, but Baroness Pinatelli relaxed slightly. Coming from her mistress, this constituted high praise indeed.
"It seems like only yesterday that etiquette instructors were abandoning you in tears."
Birna interjected with a light laugh.
"When did you learn to conduct yourself so admirably? You really must share your secret with me."
She paused, her smile sharpening.
"Unless you have been deliberately pretending to be an unrefined tomboy all this time, concealing your true abilities? There is simply no way someone improves so drastically overnight. It is truly remarkable."
The unspoken accusation hung in the air: had Medea deliberately sabotaged the etiquette teacher Catherine had provided, only to perform brilliantly now before the Queen Mother?
Medea responded without hesitation.
"The instructor my aunt provided was certainly skilled, but she was not suited to my particular needs. She specialized in noble etiquette, not royal protocol."
The distinction was crucial. Royal and noble etiquette constituted entirely different systems. Catherine, desiring Medea to remain ignorant, had deliberately assigned her a teacher versed in noble manners while excluding her from proper royal education.
"That cannot be accurate. I studied under her as well."
The Queen Mother's gaze shifted to Birna.
Her second granddaughter's attitude toward the eldest had grown increasingly peculiar.
Following the recent incident, Birna's brightness no longer seemed as endearing as before. The thoughtless interruptions, the cutting remarks, the restless, calculating eyes—all of it was beginning to grate upon the Queen Mother's patience, piece by piece.
The Game Continues ## Poison & Poise Control Everything
To Be Continued
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