---
Elizabeth was exchanging light conversation with her daughter Anita when she caught a glimpse of Irene's shadow quietly passing through the damp corridors.
"Irene!" the queen called in a gentle voice.
Irene paused for a moment and smiled politely as she approached. But her gaze landed on Anita… The latter was about to rise to her feet, clearly irritated, but Elizabeth quietly squeezed her hand, gently urging her to sit back down.
Anita crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly back, a clear expression of displeasure on her face.
Irene finally reached them and offered a polite greeting. Elizabeth warmly returned it and invited her to sit with them. Then, she smiled and said:
"The banquet is tomorrow… Are you still planning to attend?"
Irene nodded softly.
"Yes, I'm still set on it."
But Anita, never one to miss an opportunity, suddenly said in a mocking tone:
"What? Is the caterpillar suddenly turning into a social butterfly? Didn't you say you hated parties, and that we threw a wedding fit for middle-class people for my only brother?"
Elizabeth gasped and said sharply:
"Anita! Mind your manners."
But Anita just sighed coldly and said:
"What do you mean, Mother? I'm older than her, and I've always spoken my mind—even before your son's wife came along."
Irene looked at her for a moment without replying, then thought to herself:
She really does resemble her brother… even in the way she provokes.
She took a deep breath, then calmly responded:
"I just wanted to try new things… Now that I'm married, I thought it was time I learned how to adapt to my new life."
Anita laughed with clear scorn:
"How proud you are of your marriage! Seems like the greatest achievement of your life is becoming my brother's wife!"
Elizabeth shouted immediately, her voice filled with anger:
"Anita! That's enough. You may leave now!"
But Irene gently raised her hand and said:
"It's fine, Your Majesty… truly, I'm not upset."
Anita gave her a disdainful look and said:
"You really are a good actress."
Then she turned to her mother and added:
"I was about to leave anyway. You're the only one who stopped me."
And with haughty steps, she left.
Irene sighed inwardly.
As long as the harm isn't physical… everything else is bearable.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temple.
"I truly can't control them… I'm sorry, Irene. I'm sorry for what happened."
Irene smiled softly, trying to reassure her.
"Please don't apologize… I understand how she feels."
Elizabeth looked at her for a moment, then, trying to lighten the mood, changed the subject:
"So, have you chosen a dress for the banquet?"
Irene answered with a faint smile:
"Sally usually picks out my dresses for events… and I trust her taste a lot."
Elizabeth smiled and said:
"She must be a loyal maid."
Irene nodded in agreement.
---
Night fell, and Irene was in her room. She decided to try a different kind of pill… she took only one, then turned off the light, lay on the bed, and fell asleep.
---
Hours later… late at night
Lucas quietly opened the door.
The room was cloaked in darkness, with moonlight slipping through the half-drawn curtains.
He glanced toward the bed—only to find it empty.
Then his eyes moved to the balcony...
She was there.
Standing silently, her back to him, her hair cascading like a shadow over her shoulders.
He stood still, not taking a single step forward. But she didn't turn to face him.
He approached slowly, then said in a cold voice:
"Why are you awake this late?"
She didn't reply.
He frowned, stepping closer.
"What are you doing here… at this hour? It's cold, the room's dark, and you—"
He paused.
He noticed something strange about how she stood… the way her gaze was fixed into nothingness, the way her body drooped despite standing.
He quickly stepped forward, gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and asked in confusion:
"Is she… sleepwalking?"
But she murmured in a faint, trembling voice:
"The blood… it's chasing me…"
Lucas froze.
"What? Who?"
But she couldn't hear him. She seemed lost in a nightmare. She slowly began to move toward the door, her steps unsteady, her eyes half-open, her face pale as a ghost in the cold.
He swiftly wrapped his arms around her to stop her from falling, then gently carried her to the bed, laying her down slowly, while she mumbled incoherent words:
"The blood… no… don't leave me… it's there… behind me… I don't want to see… everyone… screaming…"
Lucas looked at her in confusion.
"What exactly are you dreaming about?"
He sat at the edge of the bed, gazing quietly at her face. Her hair was tousled, her brows furrowed as if still being chased in her sleep.
Only one word stood out in her whispers.
He murmured to himself:
"Blood?..."
When she finally calmed down, he brushed her forehead gently, stood up, and without turning on the light, went to shower.
After a quiet bath, he returned, dressed in his dark night robe, and lay beside her in silence.
But…
Minutes later, he heard her moaning again.
He turned his face toward her, lifted his head slightly to see what was happening. The same moans… the same faint, pained voice… the same restless movements in her sleep.
He slowly sat up, watching her. Her features twisted in the dark, as if the nightmare still held her captive.
He remembered the first time he saw her like this… the same stillness, the same sorrowful face. He didn't know what to do.
He knew that waking her would only frighten her more, like last time.
He watched her a little longer, then sighed, lay down again, and turned his face toward the ceiling.
"I really don't understand her…" he muttered tiredly to himself.
---
Irene awoke at the first light of dawn… She opened her eyes slowly, then sighed. Though she'd slept all night, she felt as though she hadn't slept at all. Every part of her body ached with a strange heaviness, as if fatigue had rooted itself deep in her bones.
She looked beside her, and there was Lucas—sleeping quietly on the same bed. She stared at his silent features for a few moments, then rose gently, careful not to wake him.
She went to the bathroom, washed up, then opened the balcony door quietly, stepped outside, and sat on her usual chair. Her hair flowed loosely, her body still, breathing the cold air in silence.
Today was the banquet.
And it was time to take the first step toward a new plan… Emilia de Rouvile. She needed to find her granddaughter, get close to her, win her over.
Her mind swirled with possibilities, strategies, and ideas of what could be said or done. Her thoughts were interrupted by a deep, calm voice:
"Aren't you cold in such light clothes?"
She turned quickly—surprised. Lucas was standing at the balcony door, his head slightly tilted toward her, his eyes silently following her.
Then she said softly:
"Good morning."
He answered in a semi-sarcastic tone:
"Why do your reactions keep getting stranger each time?..."
He paused, then added, "Did you sleep well last night?"
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Yes… why are you asking all of a sudden?"
He said to himself as he looked away:
You call that sleeping?
Then replied coldly:
"Because you tossed and turned a lot… and woke up way too early."
Irene said:
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you… I'll try to adjust my position next time."
He lifted his head slightly, staring at her for a long moment… She looked completely different in the morning, like an entirely new person.
Then he said, walking toward her:
"Go back inside… I'm going to smoke."
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, about to light it. But she didn't move. She stood still, watching him with a gaze he couldn't decipher.
He looked back at her and said in a dry tone:
"Didn't you hear me?"
She slowly asked:
"Is your relationship with the crown prince strained?"
He froze before lighting the cigarette for a few seconds, then turned his face away and silently lit it, placing it between his lips without answering.
She spoke again, her voice almost scolding:
"Aren't you going to answer me?"
He blew smoke to the side and replied with deeper coldness:
"My mood is already foul enough… Why do you want to make it worse?"
She answered calmly:
"I don't mean to bother you… but you were the one who told me to stay away from him. I just want to know why."
He said without looking at her:
"Then just stay away from him, as I asked."
She replied firmly:
"Give me a convincing reason, and I'll try to avoid him."
This time, he gave her a direct, hard stare:
"Wasn't what he did enough?"
She paused for a moment, then said:
"You're still not giving me a full answer."
He lowered his head, his voice dropping:
"Fine… do as you wish. Just go inside now."
But she didn't move.
She asked again, her voice quiet but heavy with emotion:
"Why are you avoiding my question? Is it really that complicated?"
He slowly raised his gaze to her, looking at her directly, his voice coming out in a firm, dry tone:
"Yes… our relationship is strained, and I can't stand him. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Irene froze for a moment, then said softly, trying to suppress her curiosity:
"But… may I understand why? I mean… doesn't this affect the future of the kingdom?"
Lucas exhaled sharply and looked at her with a long glare full of annoyance and disdain.
"Why have you suddenly become so talkative?"
Then added more sharply, turning his face away:
"Stop talking about him. I have to be at work in thirty minutes, and I'd like at least… a bit of peace this morning."
Silence fell.
Irene felt the weight of his words in her chest. From his tone, she sensed that his anger was rising. She didn't want to provoke him further.
She quietly stepped back into the room, closing the balcony door behind her without a sound.
Then she exhaled slowly… and began preparing herself for the long day ahead.
---