--
Irene woke to a faint rustling in the room—like the sound of fabric shifting or footsteps on carpet. She opened her eyes slowly. Her body felt heavy, as if she hadn't slept well… or perhaps hadn't slept at all without realizing it. She lifted her head slightly—only to freeze in place.
She was sitting on a small stone bench, surrounded by flowers, in the back garden.
Startled, she quickly looked around, then turned to her right and found Sally sitting beside her, looking at her with concern.
Irene whispered, confused and afraid:
— "What's going on…?"
Sally leaned in slightly and said gently:
— "What's wrong, my lady? You look pale…"
Irene placed her hand on her forehead, then looked around again, as if making sure what she was seeing was real. She muttered:
— "How… how did we get here?"
Sally raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— "What do you mean?"
Irene's anxiety grew:
— "I was in my room… you were brushing my hair, weren't you? How… how did we end up in the garden?"
Sally fell silent for a few seconds before replying hesitantly:
— "We've been here for about fifteen minutes… After I finished helping you get ready, you asked me to take a short walk before the party. That's what happened, my lady."
Irene stared at the ground, then suddenly lowered her head, pressing her forehead against her palm. She couldn't remember anything Sally had said… not a single thing. Fear crept into her slowly, like cold water pouring into her chest.
Sally added reassuringly:
— "Maybe… you're just tired. You've been exhausted lately—perhaps your body just needs some rest."
Irene nodded slowly and whispered:
— "Yes… maybe."
A short silence followed before Sally said quietly:
— "By the way, I haven't heard anything about the party from the other maids… No one's mentioned it. They always go silent or walk away when I get close. Isn't it strange, how they're hiding something as simple as a birthday celebration? Don't you think so?"
Irene lifted her gaze and replied coldly:
— "They're not obligated to tell us anything. We're outsiders, after all."
Sally smiled, trying to ease the heavy atmosphere:
— "But Lady Elizabeth was so kind to you, wasn't she?"
Irene gave a faint smile—that was exactly what she'd been wondering since yesterday. She lowered her head again and said in a quiet voice:
— "That doesn't change anything… We're still outsiders, Sally."
Sally looked at her in silence for a few moments, then gently reached for her hand and said sincerely:
— "It's okay… I'm here with you. Don't forget—we're in the same situation."
Irene lifted her head and smiled at her. She didn't say anything, but her eyes held silent gratitude.
After a moment, she broke the silence and said:
— "I should go wish her a happy birthday now… before the party starts."
The two stood up and walked together toward Elizabeth's room. The door was slightly open, and just before Sally knocked, they froze in place… a loud voice from inside the room made both of them stop.
Violet was yelling at her sister Anita:
— "Just like you apologized to Mother, you should apologize to Irene too! What you said to her was inappropriate."
Anita's voice came sharp, unapologetic:
— "Impossible! I only spoke the truth, and you know it. Admit it—when was the last time we all sat at the same table? Wasn't it before she arrived?"
Then her voice rose further:
— "The difference between you and Mom and me is that you two hide your feelings. I can't. Even yesterday, when we sat down for dinner—if it weren't for her, Mom's birthday dinner would've been warm and lovely, just like every year. She ruined it."
Elizabeth's voice cut in sharply:
— "Enough, Anita! Please behave properly—for just one day."
Anita responded mockingly:
— "But I'm not lying, am I? Admit it, Mom…"
Elizabeth said firmly:
— "Irene is an important member of this family now. You must respect her—she's your brother's wife, whether you like it or not."
Anita let out a short laugh and said:
— "You're just afraid she'll annul the marriage, isn't that the real reason? You're the one who told the staff to treat her like family… because one wrong move could threaten the kingdom's stability, right?"
Violet quickly whispered in a tense voice:
— "Lower your voice, have you lost your mind?!"
But Anita continued indifferently:
— "The marriage happened almost a year ago. Even if she decides to go back to her country now, it won't affect much… The treaty only required the marriage, not her staying here."
Elizabeth shouted in frustration:
— "Anita! Stop talking about the treaty! What if a servant hears you?! If you're finished, leave my room—now!"
Violet, her face pale, added:
— "Yesterday, you made Mom cry even more… do you want to ruin her birthday party too?!"
Anita responded coldly:
— "I didn't make her cry… that Eiscardian girl is the real reason."
Outside the room, Sally had her hand over her mouth, glancing at Irene who was staring at the ground silently, her expression frozen.
Sally whispered fearfully, as if afraid to even breathe:
— "My lady…?"
Irene said quietly, her voice sharp:
— "Let's postpone the greeting… Let's go back, Sally."
Then she turned around calmly, without lifting her eyes from the ground, and walked away with steady steps.
Sally immediately followed her without a word.
---
The entire palace had been buzzing with activity since morning. Servants rushed back and forth, voices echoed through the halls, curtains were drawn, candles prepared, and flowers arranged carefully on the tables.
In the grand hall, the atmosphere was truly majestic. Silk ribbons hung from the high ceiling, swaying gently. Huge vases overflowing with white and blush-pink flowers stood in the corners, their fragrance filling the air, while the crystal chandeliers shimmered softly above everyone. The hall had been arranged like a classical painting—elegant, refined, serene.
As time passed, the guests began to arrive one by one—their luxurious garments, laughter, and sparkling jewelry adding layers of sophistication and grandeur to the awaited celebration.
Meanwhile, Irene stood quietly in front of the mirror in her room.
She wore a dress Sally had chosen—an ivory gown with a light skirt flowing around her feet and delicate lace detailing on the bodice. The simple jewelry Sally had selected added an elegant shimmer to her neck and wrists without drawing too much attention.
Her hair had been styled to perfection: half pulled up in neat braids, the rest cascading over her shoulders, the strands dancing whenever she turned her head.
— "You look so beautiful, my lady…"
Sally said with a proud smile.
Irene only gave a quick glance in the mirror, then took a deep breath and headed toward Lady Elizabeth's chambers.
But when she arrived, she didn't find her there. She turned instead toward the ballroom, and just as she neared it, she heard a familiar voice coming from the other end of the hallway. She turned—and there she was, standing by the door, speaking quietly with a servant, with Violet beside her adjusting the clasp of her silk glove.
Irene approached quietly, and when she reached them, she bowed politely and smiled. She immediately offered birthday wishes.
Elizabeth nodded in welcome, thanked her, and complimented her appearance as always. Violet replied with a courteous smile. Moments later, Viola and her sister arrived, both wearing elegant, dark-colored dresses.
Elizabeth greeted them warmly and smiled gently, as a servant approached holding a small velvet box.
Viola, holding Elizabeth's hand respectfully, said:
— "Our beautiful queen… you grow lovelier with each passing year—as if time itself cannot touch you."
Elizabeth chuckled lightly and responded with a soft glance. But Viola continued, opening the box held by the servant:
— "I had such a hard time choosing this year's gift… but I finally decided to get you a necklace in your favorite color. Soft pink pearls—my sister and I picked it together."
Elizabeth looked at the necklace with genuine appreciation, her eyes sparkling for a moment. She thanked both Viola and her sister and complimented their taste.
Irene stood silently beside them, observing the scene closely. She didn't know how to act—the atmosphere was extremely formal.
---
Irene lowered her head briefly.
But amid the courtesies and polite smiles, she suddenly felt a sharp gaze piercing her face. She slowly lifted her head. There she was—Viola's sister staring at her with intense dark eyes, fixed steadily on Irene.
It wasn't a fleeting glance—it was searching, as if the girl were trying to peer into her soul without saying a word. Her gaze was sharp, with a hint of savagery beneath her elegant exterior.
The moment their eyes met, the girl lowered her fan slightly and smiled—a cold smile that never reached her eyes. Then she approached gracefully, and before bowing, extended her hand and said in a soft tone with a hint of challenge:
— "Princess Irene, isn't it?… A pleasure to meet you. I'm Myrna… Viola's sister."
She didn't bow as one should when greeting royalty—she stood upright, offering her hand with excessive confidence, bordering on disrespect.
Irene noticed—but chose to play along. It wasn't the time for tension, especially not in front of Elizabeth.
She took her hand gently and said calmly:
— "A pleasure to meet you… Miss Myrna."
But the moment their hands met, Myrna gripped tighter. It wasn't a handshake—it was a squeeze.
She said in a sweet tone:
— "You really are beautiful, Princess… My sister spoke highly of you. I was eager to meet you in person."
Then she tightened her grip even more, until Irene felt a sharp pain shooting from her palm to her wrist—it was a familiar sensation, one that reminded her of the Crown Prince for a fleeting moment.
She looked at Myrna—and the sense of danger within her doubled. But instead of pulling away or showing pain, Irene quickly smiled and replied:
— "You're very beautiful yourself… just like your sister. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Then she swiftly withdrew her hand with grace before Myrna could squeeze harder.
Myrna laughed a sharp, artificial laugh and said:
— "I'm flattered a princess as lovely as you… would compliment me this way."
She stepped back slightly, as if nothing had happened, gently waving her fan before her face.
Violet noticed—but didn't speak, not wanting to worry her mother further. Viola was still chatting with Elizabeth.
As for Irene… she stood in silence for a moment, discreetly clasping her injured hand with her other fingers, checking the pain without looking directly at it. But inside her, alarm bells were already ringing.
It seemed another enemy had just appeared.
While Viola was engaged in conversation with Elizabeth, she slightly changed her tone and said:
— "Lucas came to us last night… He seemed deeply regretful. He told us what happened, and as you know, Your Majesty, he never means to hurt anyone. He just acts without thinking—he's always been like that, since he was young."
Elizabeth nodded slightly, but her expression wasn't comfortable. Tension crept into her features. She quickly glanced at Irene and said with an awkward smile:
— "Lucas… always used to go to his best friend when he was upset. It's something he's done since childhood."
Irene smiled politely, not showing any discomfort, and said calmly:
— "It's a blessing to have a friend you can turn to in hard times…"
But before she could finish, Myrna interjected with a possessive tone, turning to Elizabeth:
— "But Lucas isn't just a friend anymore—he's family. He even has his own room in our house. He comes straight to my sister whenever he's upset… because she's the only one who knows how to calm him down."
Her words were heavy—meant to imply more than they stated. Elizabeth noticed and grew more uneasy. She hurried to respond:
— "Ah yes… he is also close to Viola."
Irene noticed everything, yet remained very calm.
She looked at Viola, who smiled and replied softly:
— "Yes, I've raised my siblings since I was fifteen. I've learned how to handle their tempers and moods—and Lucas is a lot like Louis, so I know how to deal with him too."
Irene looked at her sincerely and said with gentle admiration:
— "You're strong… you endured so much for your family. That's rare and admirable. I respect you for it."
Viola smiled lightly and said:
— "Thank you… That's kind of you."
She returned to her conversation with Elizabeth, but at that moment… Irene suddenly felt eyes watching her. She grew tense and turned cautiously.
Myrna was staring at her—fierce eyes filled with unspoken malice, like an unsheathed blade.
It was almost like Anita's glare… but sharper.