Conspiracy
"A wounded beast bites hardest when mocked."
The Minister's Demand
"She's nowhere near old enough to discuss marriage!"
Joaquín Claudio's voice shook the sickroom walls.
"Birna is still a child. She isn't ready. How could a girl that young even conceive such a vicious scheme? What will the Queen Mother say if she learns of this?"
The Prince Regent glared at Etienne, his handsome eyes narrowed to sharp slits.
"And this 'illness' of yours—are you sure Birna is the cause?"
"What do you mean?" Etienne's tone iced over.
"Given your usual habits, there could have been… other reasons. But since you're blaming only my daughter, I find this hard to accept."
This time, it was the Minister's turn to glare.
"Duke, do not forget what I hold in my hands."
"Is that a threat now? I don't recall having any compromising leverage over you."
"I'm reminding you we are allies who were meant to last," Etienne growled. "It seems the Duke has forgotten, dragged away by the blood of his own flesh and blood."
"You're the one who's lost all sense over this!"
"What did you say?!"
Their tempers collided, neither willing to yield even an inch.
The Regent's Fury
"Where is Birna?"
The Regent stormed through the mansion.
Birna flinched as soon as she saw him, shoulders shaking.
"F-Father…"
He crossed the room in three long strides.
Slap—!
Birna clutched her cheek, eyes wide. He had never struck her before.
"Do you understand what you've done? Why did you meddle with Medea and stir up this scandal?"
Years of suppressed frustration with his daughter—and the Minister—spilled out at once.
"Didn't I warn you after she fell from the horse? Did you not hear a word your father said?"
"I…"
"Don't stand there mute. You're not setting foot outside this room. I don't want to see you."
Birna broke down sobbing as he slammed the door behind him.
Catherine, having learned the full story belatedly, reprimanded Birna first.
"How could you keep something this serious from me?"
Samon explained Etienne's demand with a dark expression.
"Because the Minister's disability is tied to Birna's actions, he's demanding she marry him."
"What? That's insane!"
Birna, still sobbing, screamed.
"No! I'd rather die!"
"Quiet," Catherine snapped. "What did your father say?"
"Of course he refused," Samon replied. "But the Minister isn't backing down."
Catherine bit her lip.
With Cuisine gone, Joaquín no longer had both arms firmly wrapped around the palace.
To keep his old influence, he needed Etienne tied down and cooperative.
"Minister Etienne has never lost a negotiation," Catherine said. "We must move before your father is worn down."
The Manufactured Culprit
Catherine headed straight for Birna's chamber.
Inside, Sheila—the loyal maid who had attended Birna since childhood—was tidying the wreckage.
"Madam…?"
Catherine's smile did not reach her eyes.
"Seize her."
Her maids pinned Sheila's arms.
"You will write what I dictate."
She forced a quill into Sheila's trembling hand and made her pen a confession.
"I acted alone," Catherine dictated. "Out of jealousy. Lady Birna knew nothing."
When the letter was done, Sheila broke down.
"I've written everything, Madam. Please, spare Lady Birna just this once—"
Catherine's eyes were as cold as glass.
"This is your fault—for failing your mistress. Consider this the price of your incompetence."
Before Sheila could beg properly, Catherine's maids forced a vial between her lips.
The girl convulsed and collapsed, foam collecting at the corners of her mouth.
Birna went rigid.
She had expected shouting. Docked wages, perhaps.
Not execution.
The kindly mother she thought she knew dispatched her maid without a flicker of hesitation.
"M-Mother…"
"It was Sheila who used the drug, not you," Catherine said evenly. "When trouble came, she confessed and chose death. That is the truth. Remember it."
Catherine's tone was that of a tutor drilling a lesson in etiquette.
"It's time you grew up, Birna."
"Pack your things," Catherine ordered.
"Where am I going?" Birna whispered.
"To a convent. For a while."
The maids moved briskly, folding gowns and tucking away jewelry.
In the corridor, the head maid wiped at her eyes.
"Miss Birna has been raised so preciously… how will she bear such austerity?"
"However painful it may be," Catherine replied, "avoiding the Minister's gaze is our first priority. If she leaves 'voluntarily' for the convent, he cannot drag her back without scandal."
Was it right to send the daughter so like herself so far away?
There was no time for doubt. Anything was better than marrying her off to Etienne.
None of this would have happened if she had listened to me just once.
"She burns too hot," Catherine sighed. "Like him. A little passion is fine, but this…"
The head maid blinked, confused.
Passion? The Duke has always seemed more like cold water than fire.
"You can't swallow only the sweet and spit out only the bitter," Catherine said softly. "As her mother, I'll handle what she cannot."
A Fragile Alliance
Catherine entered her husband's office.
"Are you truly considering accepting the Minister's demand?" she asked quietly.
Joaquín looked a decade older than he had the day before, drained by a single sleepless night.
"Birna…"
For all her childishness, Birna was still his youngest daughter—his "baby."
No matter the magnitude of her crime, he could not bring himself to hand her over to Etienne.
"With his temperament," Claudio muttered, "Etienne would simply use some poor relative as breeding stock instead. That's all he sees women as."
"I can't let my daughter live as nothing but a seedbed. I will never send her to a man like that."
Catherine exhaled slowly, a thread of tension easing.
She had feared, deep down, that he might choose expediency over their daughter.
"I've sent Birna to a convent," she said.
"What?" Joaquín stared.
"We'll return the dead maid to the Minister with her confession. He wanted the true culprit; now he has one. He will no longer be able to demand Birna's hand without exposing his own excess."
Joaquín let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Well done. As expected of you. You acted more wisely than I did."
Catherine lowered her eyes demurely and patted his arm.
"Speak carefully with him next time," she advised. "The Minister will look for some form of compromise eventually."
The Princess's Palace
Medea watched a single lamp flame flicker in the twilight.
"Your Highness," Neril reported, "Tom says a carriage left Duke Claudio's estate late last night. Headed for St. Agnes Convent."
So Birna was in that carriage.
Running ahead of the toad, are we, Aunt?
Medea's lips curved faintly.
"My aunt will try to wrap this up like that," she said.
If it was for her daughter's future, Catherine never hesitated to sacrifice others.
Medea felt only a sliver of pity for the maid who had died in Birna's place.
"Do you think the conflict between the two of them ends here?" Neril asked.
"Of course not," Medea replied. "We'll use this as long as we can."
"Send a letter to Umberto. Tell him to inform the Minister that Birna fled to a convent."
How long can his pride endure being mocked to his face?
"And the dead maid—find out if she has any surviving family."
"Yes. She has a younger sister," Neril answered.
Medea's eyes gleamed like amethyst in the dark.
"There is no spy more loyal than one born of vengeance."
Neril bowed.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The Toad Moves ## The Hunt Has Begun
A girl hides behind holy walls. A mother stains her hands with innocent blood. And a princess fans the flames of a toad's madness.
Run, Birna. Run fast. The toad is coming.
[ To Be Continued ]
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