Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 118

Feeling nostalgic for Madam Cladnier, Miesa asked Gella, “How are the former Margrave Cladnier and his wife doing?”

“Yes, I was curious as well. I’ll send someone to ask about their condition,” Gella replied.

“I hope they recover quickly. Truly, from the bottom of my heart,” Duke Salachez added with a solemn expression.

Miesa nodded in agreement. “Yes, I wish to see them soon.”

“It’s quite unusual that Your Majesty gets along so well with your husband’s mother.”

“You saw that day. It’s not just getting along…”

What words could express it? The feelings she had for Madam Cladnier, who had embraced her protectively.

As Miesa struggled to find the words, Duke Salachez continued, “I was out hunting that day, so I only found out later about what happened. Goodness, how could anyone do such a thing to a person…”

Salachez shook his head, his red curls swaying with the motion, while his mouth continued to chew. Watching him, Miesa chuckled softly.

“Salachez, that’s fine, but I don’t want to see the food in your mouth.”

“Oh, then should I turn my head this way?”

Salachez, who was sitting to Miesa’s right, turned his body to the side. With each chewing motion, the hair on the back of his head bobbed up and down rhythmically. As Miesa picked up her knife, Salachez spoke again.

“Your Majesty, the rib is impeccably cleaned. Would you like to see it?”

“I’m not interested in seeing something that’s been in your mouth, Duke.”

“Oh! Your Majesty, it’s completely bare. I think you should take a look.”

Gella, who was sitting across from Salachez, smiled brightly for the first time that day. Seeing her smile, Miesa reluctantly nodded.

“…Rinse it in water and then show it to me.”

When Eirik returned to the consort’s room after finishing his meal in another room, laughter and cheerful voices were spilling out from inside.

“No! That’s not how it’s done. Watch carefully.”

It was Miesa’s voice. She sighed briefly, then earnestly explained something.

“‘Dear, if I cannot be there with you, I cannot guarantee your safety. Is it worth taking such a risk now?’“

“Wow! It’s exactly the same, Your Majesty!”

Eirik quickly realized whom Miesa was impersonating and who Gella was applauding, saying it was exactly the same.

“‘Are you comfortable revealing your condition to Cullen? Do you really want to go out that badly?’”

Miesa’s mimicry continued. Those were the words he had said when she wanted to go out with Gella.

He found himself inadvertently eavesdropping on the conversation inside the room. Although it wasn’t entirely pleasant, if this was what it took to lift her spirits, Eirik didn’t mind too much.

“Why does the Margrave nag so much anyway?” Salachez said.

Nagging. He wasn’t wrong, Eirik thought with a wry smile as he was about to turn away from the door.

“Quiet, Doid.”

When did she become close enough with that man to call him by name? Eirik stopped abruptly. But Miesa’s next words pierced his ears relentlessly.

“Don’t badmouth my husband.”

Just those few words caused Eirik’s heart to race as if it might burst. It was the first time he’d heard such words directly from her lips.

Gella and Salachez burst into laughter, each adding their own remarks.

“Your Grace, did you hear Her Majesty? Don’t badmouth our dear consort.”

“Why do you like someone who always tells you what not to do?”

“But he let me go out that time. Do you think that’s all?”

In a boastful tone, Miesa bragged to Doid, “Eirik treats me so well. Once, when I was scared of birds, he even decorated the window with all sorts of intimidating things. So don’t go blabbering about my husband without knowing anything.”

“Yes, yes. I now understand that your love for each other is very deep,” Salachez replied.

It seemed Salachez was intentionally pretending to disparage Eirik, lightening Miesa’s mood in the process. After briefly contemplating, Eirik knocked on the door, his face flushed red.

“Who is it?”

“At this hour, who else could it be? Your Grace, let’s leave quickly.”

Gella pulled Salachez by the hand and left. Eirik, looking slightly embarrassed, greeted them as they exited and then entered the room.

Miesa, trying to maintain a pout, couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sight of Eirik’s flushed face.

“Now, Gella, go and rest. I have some business to attend to,” Salachez said.

“What business do you have at this hour, Your Grace?” Gella asked, puzzled.

“Just go in, and I’ll see you in the morning,” Salachez replied with a wink, gently brushing Gella off.

He then turned to a guard standing in the hallway and asked, “Where is the chamber of the Chief Lady-in-Waiting, Viscountess Manere?”

“The ladies-in-waiting use the first-floor north wing when residing here. But why are you asking at this hour?”

“Oh dear, I suppose I shouldn’t barge into the Chief Lady-in-Waiting’s quarters alone. Would you accompany me?”

The guard hesitated for a moment but soon agreed, recalling that the head of the Salachez family was temporarily serving as chamberlain. He informed another guard of his departure from his post and followed Salachez.

Duke Salachez went directly to the Chief Lady-in-Waiting’s chamber, knocking loudly on the door and calling out, “Chief Lady-in-Waiting? Viscountess Manere? I need to speak with you urgently.”

Viscountess Manere, who had been wrestling with her thoughts since fleeing the secret room behind the office, frowned at the sound of his knocking. What was that fool of a duke doing, calling out her name loudly enough to be heard throughout the hallway at this hour?

To stop Salachez from shouting, she hastily put on a robe and opened the door. As expected, several maids from the dimly lit rooms across the hall peeked out to see what was happening. Fortunately, the duke wasn’t alone; he had brought a guard with him.

The tall, lanky duke with his red hair grinned and offered a polite apology. “This matter is too important to delay. May I have a moment of your time?”

“Yes, just a moment.”

Viscountess Manere rubbed her temples and headed toward the meeting room at the end of the hallway.

The room, used by the ladies-in-waiting during morning assemblies and breaks, was dark at this hour. She lit a candle, pulled a chair to the table, and sat down to rest her still-trembling legs.

“What is it you wanted to discuss?” she asked, addressing both men.

“I have business here; the guard merely accompanied me,” Salachez replied, offering the guard a chair before sitting down himself and beginning to explain.

“Did you hear what happened during Her Majesty’s dinner?”

As Salachez recounted the events, Viscountess Manere’s initially sour expression shifted as she listened more intently. Upon hearing that the queen had argued with the consort over the incident, she jumped up and bowed to Salachez.

“My goodness, Your Grace. Thank you for informing me.”

“It was no trouble,” Salachez replied smugly as he left.

As soon as he was gone, Viscountess Manere gathered all the ladies-in-waiting. Some of them had been preparing for bed but were summoned to the meeting room in a flurry.

Viscountess Manere paced the room, biting her nails until everyone had gathered, then shouted, “Are you crazy? What were you thinking?”

The ladies-in-waiting were taken aback, unfamiliar with this side of her.

Usually indifferent, Viscountess Manere had always focused her attention solely on Madam Namirea, the former Chief Lady-in-Waiting, currying favor with her. She had never tried to discipline the young ladies-in-waiting, so her angry outburst was shocking to them.

“Who was serving Her Majesty’s dinner tonight? Step forward now!”

One by one, the ladies-in-waiting stepped forward until there were five in total. Seeing one of her own relatives among them, Viscountess Manere trembled with rage.

“Miella! Why are you here?”

“I… I…”

“You, really, you, why? Why would you do such a thing?”

Viscountess Manere stomped her foot in frustration but quickly regained her composure.

“This won’t do. All five of you, show me your heads.”

The ladies-in-waiting watching from the back widened their eyes. Even Madam Namirea, who had relished punishment, hadn’t gone this far. Yet, everyone understood what was meant, so the five at the front brushed back their hair and lifted their faces.

Taking a deep breath, Viscountess Manere gritted her teeth and slapped each one hard. No, she struck them so forcefully it was more like she was trying to break both her hand and their faces.

The ladies-in-waiting staggered from the blows, and Viscountess Manere’s wrist throbbed, but she moved on to the next one with grim determination. The next was her own cousin’s daughter, from her maternal family.

“Auntie! Why are you doing this?”

“Be quiet. This is all to save you.”

Viscountess Manere grasped her sobbing cousin’s face and shouted, her voice so urgent that it only made the ladies-in-waiting more fearful.

“Listen carefully. Don’t apply anything like a cold compress until tomorrow morning. The more swollen, the better. All five of you, understand?”