Chapter 13:
The Villainess Bewitches
THE GUEST ROOMS at this monastery were no less impressive than the sort found in an aristocrat’s mansion. The furnishings weren’t made by first-class craftsmen, but the dressers and table were made of dark mahogany with a beautiful antique design. Upon entry, they were greeted by a drawing room that led into a separate bedroom. Two beds sat side by side to accommodate both Lestea and Claudia.
“The next room over is also a guest room, isn’t it?” Claudia asked pointedly. She already knew there were no other guests staying the night. The hound from earlier was being kept in the knights’ barracks. Lestea could have taken the other room.
“I volunteered to stay with you since, naturally, you’ll need someone to help look after you,” said Lestea.
“Sisters are supposed to handle everything on their own.”
Realizing her flimsy excuse wouldn’t work, Lestea dropped to one knee and hung her head. “Please give me the honor of staying with you!” she begged.
Of course she would act like this the moment they were alone.
“Fine,” Claudia huffed. “Only because I have no other choice.”
“Thank you so much!”
“I’m not doing this for you,” Claudia added quickly, lest Lestea misunderstand her. “If we changed our arrangement now, it would cause trouble for other people.” She couldn’t discount the possibility that the neighboring room would require preparation before it was ready for a guest. Still, she’d made this decision with great reluctance.
Lestea’s eyes sparkled with delight. “You won’t regret this!”
Claudia sank into a sofa in the drawing room. “Please, sit. You’ll only wear me out if you keep this up.” They would have visitors soon. While they waited, she addressed something that had been niggling at her. “Do you know why you were chosen to be A Priori?”
It was obvious why the church had selected Claudia: She was the crown prince’s betrothed. Lestea’s selection was less clear. Even Elizabeth had found it incredibly unexpected.
“They praised me for dressing in men’s clothing and refusing to be bound by stereotypes,” Lestea said flatly.
Ironic, then, that they’d forced Lestea to wear a sister’s uniform for the duration of her stay.
Lestea inhaled deeply and went on, “I’m being used to demonstrate how open the church is to new ideas despite its typical conservatism.”
If the church had been genuine about accepting her, they would’ve allowed her to wear men’s clothing. They had left a nasty taste in her mouth, but she’d softened after seeing how gentle and open Carlo was.
“They made it clear that I won’t be allowed to wear men’s clothing for the Saint’s Festival either.” Lestea shrugged. “I only accepted this duty because it means having the honor of sharing the same title as you.”
“I assume the general populace has no idea you typically dress in men’s clothing, then.”
“That’s correct!”
Bari’s nobles were aware, but the same could not be said for the average citizen. Their world was largely cut off from high society. Word might leak past that social barrier and circulate through the rumor mill, but if they had never seen Lestea wearing men’s attire in public, they wouldn’t make the connection.
“It’s all an act for the church, aimed at the aristocracy. It’s staggering how closed-minded they are,” Lestea grumbled. Her tone shifted as she added, “At least the cardinal was understanding.”
“Really?”
Like Harland, Bari had its own cardinal.
“Ours is a woman,” Lestea explained. “She has a very progressive way of thinking. We got along well. Once I became the saint’s attendant, she informed me about the political situation within the church, so my sacrifice had its benefits.” And because of that, Lestea had deduced the reason for Gique’s sudden absence. “Seems like the church found another possible candidate for saint. When I heard about it, nothing was set in stone yet. Considering how suddenly Gique was called away, though, I’m guessing they’ve made up their minds.”
“That does seem likely.” Claudia had been wondering why Gique left so abruptly. It made sense now.
The other candidates for saint were relatives of sitting cardinals. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the decision revolved around political infighting. What did surprise her was that a new candidate had emerged out of nowhere. She would have to be exceptional to make the church consider her over the other options they already had.
“Whether she becomes the saint remains to be seen and will require some maneuvering to accomplish. Not that who gets chosen really matters to Bari,” said Lestea.
That was quite the statement for one of the saint’s attendants to make. Harland was intent on keeping the church out of its politics, so odds were decent that they would keep the saint at arm’s length.
It would behoove us if she’s reasonable, though.
While Claudia was lost in thought, a booming voice outside their door announced the arrival of their visitors. Lestea hopped to her feet and opened the door, ushering the visitors inside.
When Sylvester and Raul stepped in, Claudia’s jaw dropped. They were wearing long, flowing robes, much like Carlo’s.
Sylvester seemed pleased by her reaction. A smile stretched across his face, his eyes crinkling. “The public cannot know of our visit. We borrowed these uniforms to blend in.”
“To ‘blend in’?” Claudia repeated in disbelief.
That was impossible. The two princes were eye-catching enough on their own, but even more so when they were together. They were too handsome to simply “blend in.” Sylvester’s very existence was like a crown of gold; he had natural gravitas. Raul was more like the sun, with his rich-brown skin and cheerful personality. The lack of any decoration or excessively fancy attire made their inherent beauty stand out even more.
Those robes should hide the lines of their bodies—yet, strangely enough, I can make out every detail.
Gravity pulled the fabric down, tightening it over the swells of muscle and sinew. This was true of even Sylvester, who typically looked slenderer and more unassuming in such clothing. If Claudia wasn’t careful, she’d start ogling.
This is the grand cathedral, she reminded herself. This is the holiest place in the capital. Begone, impure thoughts. Please. Begone!
Her desire to rush into Sylvester’s arms was stronger than ever, perhaps because she was prohibited from touching him. While she struggled with her baser urges, Sylvester slapped a hand over Raul’s eyes.
“What the hell?” Raul demanded.
“I’m doing this for your sake,” Sylvester said plainly.
“I don’t buy that!”
“It might be better to crush both your eyeballs instead.”
Raul flinched. “Why are you threatening me to hurt me all of a sudden?!”
What in God’s good name were these two doing? Claudia stared at her fiancé, unable to figure him out. She hoped he would notice her attention and afford her an answer, but instead, he was looking anywhere but directly at her.
“Aha!” Lestea said from beside Claudia, as if this all made sense to her. “A person is at their most attractive after taking a bath.”
“Goodness!” Claudia cried. “I haven’t done anything but apply my moisturizer to my skin.”
Lestea’s words had reminded her that she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Normally, Helen would take care of that for her. Even when they took trips and stayed somewhere overnight, Helen brought enough cosmetics to give her a natural look, at least. Claudia’s hands flew to her hair, which was still damp from earlier.
I can’t believe how thoughtless I’ve been! Panicked, she blurted out, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t prepare for your visit!”
“Er, no,” Sylvester muttered back hesitantly. It was rare for him to be at such a loss.
Unable to see anything, Raul cocked his head. “What’s going on?”
“My liege, you seem to have missed the most important part of what I was trying to tell you,” Lestea said.
Claudia’s gaze zipped back to Lestea. “Pardon?”
“Right now, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
True, she had said something about people looking their most attractive after a bath. The problem was that the woman lavished Claudia with praise so often that she’d taken to completely ignoring everything out of Lestea’s mouth. This was one of those times she wished she had paid attention.
Lestea continued, “Bathing improves one’s blood flow. It’s especially effective in bringing out one’s natural beauty during this season, since people have a propensity for taking longer baths in winter. It’s helped rejuvenate your skin and reduced any swelling. Both men and women tend to look their best after leaving the bath.”
The explanation brought forth a memory of her brothel days. Mirage had once told Claudia that bathing was the most natural kind of makeup. Claudia was a noblewoman, so bathing was just another part of her daily life; she had completely forgotten Mirage’s words until now.
“Your skin is more vibrant than ever, and you have a natural blush to your cheeks. The lack of cosmetics has enhanced your plump, rosy lips. Yes, you’re the very picture of beauty!” Lestea uttered the last few words in a high-pitched, singsong voice.