Inequities.
Inés was imprisoned in the southern summer palace, which stood separated from the main palace by an expansive garden.
To reach the summer palace, one had to ride a horse or carriage from the main court. While the palace's architecture presented a facade of harmony from a distance, each building within the summer palace complex had been individually constructed for distinct, often extravagant, and unnecessary purposes, evident in their luxurious appearances.
Previous monarchs had used various excuses for these constructions-a recreational facility for a particularly frail crown prince, complete with a maze for his entertainment; a rustic villa to fulfill the romantic desires of an enamored emperor, his lover, and their illegitimate child; an attempt by an empress to understand the commoners' hardships through an extensive farm and an unrealistically large cabin. Additional structures included a massive greenhouse commemorating the late emperor's marriage, and a secret chapel.
Despite the varied purposes behind the summer palace, every monarch had chosen this location for one crucial reason: to isolate these structures from the rest of the world.
Within the massive palace walls, everything centered around the imperial court. To the east and west stood administrative buildings and the Court of Justice, where bureaucrats carried out their tasks. To the north, a three-hundred-year-old summer palace entertained foreign delegations. The main palace and its three adjoining areas always bustled with activity, but the southern section seemed like an entirely different world. It appeared that the former existed for grand display, while the latter was intended for privacy.
From the southern summer palace, the main palace loomed in the distance. Instead of a fortified wall, the southern summer palaces bordered a forest, distant from the conflicts of everyday life. Inés mused that whoever designed this summer palace must have sought the luxury of seclusion.
Indeed, this particular room she was confined in was not designed for incarceration. East- and West-facing windows bathed the space in sunlight all day, and a spacious terrace offered views of the garden. Clearly, the crown prince had chosen this room out of his affection for his wife.
News circulated about how Oscar pleaded with the imperial court for Inés to have some respite after the recent miscarriage, and the court had allocated an entire summer palace for Inés's recuperation. Some praised the crown prince for his mercy and dedication to the crown princess despite her repeated failures to produce an heir, while others criticized him for letting his emotions for Inés get in the way of fulfilling his duty.
Right. No one would imagine this building was my prison, Inés thought cynically, snuffing out the candle with her fingers.
Affection... Mercy... Pure disgust surged within her, and she could hardly bear even to say those words out loud.
The night began to cast its shadows. The candle wax left a subtle burn on her fingers, but she shook off the remnants as if the pain barely registered. Even the stinging sensation felt like it belonged to someone else.
In her recurring dreams, Inés felt every sensation vividly. She did not observe the events unfolding in her dreams like a detached spirit occupying the crown princess's body; she fully experienced every pain, despair, and joy the owner of the body felt. These sensations were so clear that she could hardly maintain her sanity during her waking hours.
The only reason she couldn't feel the burn now was that the owner of the body had become numb to pain.
Ines Valenza Ortega de Perez.
Once the bearer of this name, Inés thought its length and dignity merely reflected her current family and regional origin.
Similar to a name tag on an object designating its owner, her name revealed her association with the esteemed Valenza family in the Ortega Empire and her hometown of Perez.
Essentially, it served as an indicator of who had owned her before and who owned her now-just as people recognized her as Inés Escalante de Perez in her present life.
Nevertheless, reputation and name held significance for both men and women. Hence, Inés's unnecessarily lengthy name always garnered welcome and adoration wherever she went.
In Ortegan society, akin to many other nations, women lost their maiden names upon marriage, regardless of their social standing. However, the daughters of Grandes de Ortega, the prestigious seventeen families that reigned over the empire, were permitted to indicate their ancestral estate in their names. This privilege, albeit unofficial, held particular weight. Only the daughters of the five dukes, the most eminent among the seventeen, were granted the exceptional right to include the family estate in their official names. Even after marriage, these women had the liberty to assert their connection to their maiden family and land of their birth. Thus, the recording of their maiden lineage in the name was a symbol of the highest pedigree, a distinction reserved for an elite few, even among the Grandes de Ortega. It also served as a marker of the esteemed nature of their husbands' families.
As for Inés, both her family names bore the weight of imperial heritage. The family name Valenza, belonging to the emperor, was exclusively bestowed upon the women of the palace, and only direct descendants of the emperor had the privilege to append the nation, Ortega, to their name. This rare honor extended solely to the emperor's wife and his daughters. In Inés's case, her name represented the union between the palace and the Valeztenas, as well as the union between Inés and Oscar. Her name proved her status as the nation's most precious woman.
Other than Inés, only one other woman carried the profound significance of Ortega in her name and her maiden lineage: Cayetana Valenza Ortega de Esposa, the empress and the late Duke Escalante's daughter.
Inés recalled the full name of Empress Cayetana. It had not crossed her mind for years, until now.
Once upon a time, she had deluded herself into believing that her name carried the same weight as that of Oscar's mother. In her naivety, she had also thought her body was precious and dignified, even considering herself the master of her own form. In those days, she proudly bore the name Inés de Perez.
Then, the recollection of years passed flooded back-all those years during which she had been treated as nothing more than an object. Things were not so bad when she first received her family name, Valeztena. Perhaps, in those early moments, she might have had some semblance of control over herself, or at least she deluded herself into thinking so.
But was that truly a wretched existence? No one would bother naming or claiming ownership over something with no value. If her only other option was to be an object, she preferred to be a useful one over being labeled useless, unwanted, and abandoned.
Feeling the cold air brush her lips, Inés let out a hollow chuckle. Value... Usefulness...
At this point in her first life, she was Valeztena family's shame. Neither the Valeztenas nor the Valenzas desired to give her their name. No matter how much Oscar had contributed to the miscarriages, Inés remained a useless crown princess, incapable of producing an heir. An overpriced mare. Empress Cayetana often mocked Duke Valeztena, accusing him of duping her son. "Didn't you pass off your girl as a real woman, even though she can't bear a child?" she would taunt.
Therefore, Inés considered this marriage a regrettable mistake that needed to be annulled. If she were a commoner, divorce
would have been an option, but within the confines of the palace, annulment was the only recourse. Inés Valenza Ortega should have lived out the rest of her life in a convent, repenting for the sin of wasting the crown prince's time and praying for an heir from another woman.
"You have no right to wield your title to control the palace when you can't even produce a living heir," Empress Cayetana had once chided her. "How shameless it is to flaunt yourself and try to influence the trends among the women. You should be more modest. Must you seek attention from men so shamelessly? How beastly."
Twisting her lips in a mocking smile at the memory, Inés wryly reflected, She wasn't wrong; I was, in essence, Oscar's courtesan.
"Even his own mother can't compete against your pillow talk. Although your womb can't bear a child, you must have some tricks up your sleeve in the bedroom for Oscar to still hold onto you."
Inés wanted to retort, Your son is so obsessed with his desires that I don't even need to make an effort. All I have is my fancy appearance, but I am no better than a courtesan. I must be the most satisfying wife for that lecher.
Even still, Empress Cayetana demanded, "Find a way to persuade Oscar otherwise."
Unfortunately, Inés had been attempting to do so to no avail. She hit and kicked him, but nothing worked. The empress could never imagine how desperately Inés wished for Oscar to cast her aside, or how she prayed for him to at least get himself an expensive and pure courtesan.
Empress Cayetana sometimes worried about Inés's jealous temperament, but she knew nothing about her son's true character. His benign face revealed nothing of his hidden perversions. However, when Oscar realized Inés was privy to his secrets, he abandoned all pretense. He slept with courtesans of meager worth. He came home after an orgy in the brothel district and took the same organ that had entered a male courtesan straight into his pregnant wife. Sometimes, Oscar intentionally didn't cleanse himself after earlier intimacies, forcing Inés to attend to him with her mouth. His arousal and satisfaction depended more on Inés's despair and destruction than on any physical touch.
Overwhelmed by revolting memories, Inés doubled over the terrace. It bewildered her how she could have forgotten this nauseating sensation. The ground below blurred before her unsteady gaze. As the memories grew clearer, she sensed that she would soon jump over the terrace.
She had only expressed her anger through violence at Oscar thus far. So, he likely remained oblivious to the possibility of her attempting escape or ending her life by leaping from a three-story terrace like some clueless ingénue. After all, he always held her intelligence in high regard.
Regrettably, at this point in her past, she could hardly muster intelligent thoughts.
Unfazed and composed, she did not tremble in fear as she had the first time. Calmly, she peered down at the ground, straightened her back, then climbed over the ledge, standing with her heels on the edge.
She didn't miss a heartbeat.