Previously
Irenia recalls her underwater rescue and realizes she and Caesar shared a kiss, which she flusteredly rationalizes as medical artificial respiration. They decide to prepare a 'surprise' plan for their enemies while rumors spread that Irenia has succumbed to a curse following Elda's mysterious death.
“His Majesty gave strict orders that no one be admitted…”
Delfina attempted to stop them, her distress evident, but Giovinetta pushed brazenly past, having Martha force the door open.
The moment it swung wide, the wretched state of the bedchamber was laid bare. Although midday had arrived, the room remained dark and gloomy, its thick drapes drawn tight to blot out every sliver of light.
Giovinetta knit her brow as a pale figure lying in the bed stirred. It was Irenia.
“Delfina? Did I not tell you to let no one in…?”
Irenia caught sight of Giovinetta and snapped sharply,
“What is the matter with you? Why have you come here?”
Giovinetta gestured to Martha, who hurried across to the window and tore the curtains aside, letting the sunlight flood into the room to expose the chaotic ruin within: shattered trinkets, scattered beads, broken vessels, and dried remnants of food clinging to the walls—an utter mess.
In the midst of it all, Irenia huddled in apparent terror, clutching the blanket up to her chin. Never before had Giovinetta seen her in such a state.
Her condition was utterly miserable. Her face was bloodless, shadowed beneath the eyes by dark hollows as though she had not slept in days.
Giovinetta tilted her chin up smugly.
“You ought to be grateful. I only came to check on your health.”
Irenia let out a shriek that was almost a howl.
“How dare you wear clothes like that?!”
Giovinetta met the outburst with a broad smile, catching the hem of her skirt to offer a mocking curtsy.
“Is it not said that you are on death’s door? I came to offer condolences, not to pay a sick call.”
Her attire was indistinguishable from funeral weeds: a black velvet gown, a black hat, and blossoms of cypress, chrysanthemum, and asphodel fastened to the netting—all emblems of mourning and demise.
At that, Irenia seemed to lose whatever composure remained to her.
“Get out this instant! I said get out!”
Her face flushed red before blanching once more, and she began hurling pillows directly at Giovinetta’s head.
Giovinetta remarked as she backed out, thoroughly pleased,
“I was just about to leave in any case. It is abundantly clear that you are in the very pink of health.”
She departed the Emerald Palace having uncovered nothing concrete, yet with her heart dancing in triumphant glee.
That evening, Giovinetta took supper with her mother, Celestina, their first intimate gathering in quite some time. Giovinetta had been in glowing spirits since her return from the palace, prompting her mother to inquire,
“And how fares that girl, Irenia?”
Giovinetta laughed mockingly.
“You would scarcely believe it, Mother. She was practically a corpse!”
Yet Celestina could not bring herself to accept the news so readily, knowing Irenia as well as she did.
“Strange… That stubborn wretch, breaking down all of a sudden like that?”
Giovinetta replied, her eyes glittering with victory,
“She is a girl without any backing, so it is hardly surprising. Everything simply came crashing down upon her at once.”
Celestina observed thoughtfully,
“She may well have suffered in the palace, but still… I do not know. Something feels amiss.”
Giovinetta chuckled.
“Mother, you are reading too much into it.”
Yet the unease lingered on Celestina’s brow. She had always been known for her suspicious nature and excessive wariness.
Giovinetta spoke up to ease her mind.
“If it troubles you so deeply, I shall keep watch on her whenever I visit the palace. Indeed, I will set someone to track her movements.”
“Would you do that for me?”
“Is that asking so much? If it puts your heart at ease, I will do whatever I must.”
Celestina looked at her with affectionate admiration.
“It seems that keeping company with the Empress has matured your wits.”
Mother and daughter shared a laugh, enveloped in an easy, warm intimacy.
Later on, the spy appointed to shadow Irenia arrived with a fresh report.
“Her Highness has been visiting the priest daily for confession, spending hours at a time within the chapel.”
Giovinetta asked in a bored drawl,
“And is that all you managed to notice? Is there nothing more interesting than that?”
The spy offered a pointed smile and said,
“In truth… there is something rather peculiar.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Every night, she leaves her chambers unaccompanied to wander the palace grounds.”
“Alone? Without a guard?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Taking several silver coins slipped to him by the maid Martha, the spy continued,
“It appears as though she performs a rite each night.”
Giovinetta cried out,
“A rite? What sort of rite do you mean?”
The spy hesitated, angling for more coin, and Giovinetta signaled to Martha, who promptly pressed more money into his palm.
At last, he spoke.
“It is quite awkward to mention, but… I believe she is practicing witchcraft.”
“Witchcraft?”
Giovinetta’s voice rose in poorly concealed delight, and the spy went on:
“She frequents the pond to burn strange slips of paper inscribed with sinister symbols. I have never seen the like, except in the rituals of witches.”
At those words, Giovinetta’s voice trembled with sheer excitement. A smile formed on her lips, her breath quickening. At long last, she had her cornered. With this, she would tear that wretched creature down.
How she despised her. Irenia, that girl who had suddenly intruded upon her life and stolen away all the attention.
The moment she recalled that cool, lovely face, Giovinetta’s expression darkened.
Irenia had always acted as though nothing could touch her; no matter how deeply she was insulted or wounded, she remained unyielding and impenetrable, which infuriated Giovinetta more than anything else.
She had not hated her from the very start. When they first met, she had even attempted to treat her kindly out of pity.
She had been filthy, emaciated, and plain—no better than a rat scurrying up from the gutter.
Different mothers or not, she was still considered her sister, so Giovinetta had looked after her. She had even felt a pang of sympathy that the girl had suddenly been brought to live in an unfamiliar estate. Her feelings, back then, had been genuine.
She had been taught that nobility entailed showing charity toward those beneath one’s station, and so she had bestowed her kindness upon her—until the girl overstepped her bounds.
At first, she had seemed merely a frail little thing unworthy of notice. But then she began to excel, earning praise from the tutors, mastering languages far better than Giovinetta, dazzling the instructors and Father alike… She had even worn one of Giovinetta’s dresses once, and it had somehow suited her far better.
That wretched rat… daring to outshine her.
So all she had wanted was to give her a fright. She had intended only to startle her a little and shove her gently, yet the fool had gone and tumbled down the stairs all on her own.
“It was not truly my fault!”
Giovinetta muttered, grinding her teeth in resentment. Yes, if any sin had been committed, the blame lay entirely with Irenia.
Who had asked her to suffer in solitary silence? Who had commanded her to crawl into the corner of her room looking so gloomy, mute and stubborn to the end? She was the one who had nurtured her own affliction. And now she dared to lay the blame at her door? It was laughable enough to bring tears.
Yet now, all had righted itself. It seemed Irenia had finally lost her mind, incapable of enduring life within the Imperial Palace. If left to her own devices, she might well put on an amusing spectacle worth watching.
“No, no, wait…”
Then an even more thrilling thought struck her, flashing like a wicked spark. That madwoman… what was her name again? Ah, yes.
“Martha! Martha! Where is Madame Mercedes Arontio?”
“Yes, my lady! Right away!”
Martha came scurrying over from a distance, lurching like a sluggish, useless drudge. Given the chance, Giovinetta would have had the skin flayed from her back.
As for Giovinetta, her cheeks were flushed crimson with mounting excitement, a fresh glow rising upon them like spring blossoms bursting into bloom, radiant and lovely.
FADE OUT