Shrouded by the silence of the night, she dropped onto the ground. The grass covering the gardens wasn't as soft as it appeared; the rustling that accompanied her landing was unexpectedly loud, leaving her more surprised than in pain.
The first time around, she should have been more distracted by the ominous sound echoing in her mind-a disconcerting crunch of her left ankle, collapsing under her upon the sudden impact. But this time, Inés had known which ankle was going to break. She focused on the hush around her rather than the dull pain coursing through her leg.
This was just a dream, and knowing what would happen offered no reprieve from the inevitable. She managed to push herself to her feet and began to walk with a small limp, a chill creeping down her spine as dew moistened her bare feet with each staggered step. The grass was slightly damp from the fog that had settled in.
What a fool I was, she dispassionately thought, then turned her attention to the nervously shifting gaze of her dream self. Intermittent jolts of sharp pain in her ankle shot through her dulled senses. But Inés Valenza, the owner of this body, seemed determined to escape this horrible place.
In hindsight, the idea of hobbling back to the main palace on a fractured ankle was sheer madness. Inés took in the scenery around her nonchalantly, enduring the pain, as if watching an obvious charade. It was just beyond that flowering tree that Inés Valenza would collapse, and then-
"Your Highness!"
The distant sound of rapid footsteps cutting across the wet grass grew nearer. Forehead pressed into the ground, brows furrowed in pain, Inés let out a pained groan. A compelling urge to release an exasperated laugh surged within her-she had recognized the voice.
Why was he here? Why hadn't she noticed before? She mused wistfully.
A hand rested on her shoulder as these questions came to her mind. Her parted lips made no attempt to form words. Even after the man's cold hands pulled her upright and his eyes met hers, she remained silent. Strictly speaking, their eyes didn't really meet; it was too dark to discern his face right away. Yet, Cárcel Escalante was undoubtedly staring straight into her eyes.
Inés exhaled slowly, as if the intense gaze she could feel had left her momentarily breathless. His breathing reached her ears before his figure came into view, and she felt his large frame inching closer. He seemed eager to say something but faltered, struggling to find the right words.
An awkward silence settled between them. The silhouette, even in its obscurity, appeared flustered. Each shuddering breath he drew resonated through her shoulder where his arm rested.
"Why..." he began, only to trail off quickly.
She knew he wanted to inquire about her daring leap. The unspoken question lingered in the air. He most likely couldn't bring himself to voice his suspicions-that she might have attempted to take her own life.
Suicide was one of the grave sins forbidden by their god since time immemorial; it was too profound a blasphemy to accuse the future crown princess of committing such an act. Even if witnesses saw her leap from the penance tower and her body get crushed to pieces upon hitting the ground, few would dare to call it a suicide.
However, Cárcel Escalante's silence extended beyond a hesitant show of respect. It appeared as if he had been shaken to the core by the mere fact that she had fallen from the balcony. Whether it was an accident or intent seemed less important to him.
He really is too easily frightened for his size, Inés mused, tracing his familiar face in the darkness from memory.
While he showed little concern for his own safety, he always displayed an excessive worry for anything involving her. Then a realization struck her: the Cárcel Escalante before her was not the Cárcel she had married in her current life.
The hand on her shoulder trembled before slipping away. He rubbed his hands over his face in clear frustration before running a hand through his hair. Then, he took half a step back, putting a polite distance between them.
Right, Inés thought. This isn't him.
His disheveled, blond hair seemed to glow even in the darkness. A sudden recollection painted a vivid picture in her mind-the bright Calztela sun reflecting off Cárcel's head. She
remembered the way he smiled at her from beneath his wind-swept tresses and the brilliance of his blue eyes.
The real Cárcel felt more like a distant dream than the one she was facing in her current dream. It weighed on her, as though she might never be able to see the real Cárcel again.
A dream as vivid as this rarely concluded on a positive note.
Inés Valenza finally uttered, "Commander Escalante."
Her past self, too, seemed to have recognized him by his voice. An uncanny feeling swept through her at the realization that her past self had identified him by his voice because she had scarcely spoken to him back then. However, the feeling quickly dissipated when she noticed his hand, gingerly placed underneath her elbow to help her up.
"Yes, Your Highness. It's me," he told her, his tone stiff and business-like.
There was a hint of awkward hesitation even in the way he supported her body. He didn't strike her as a man well-versed in the art of seduction.
At last, his face emerged into view, either because her eyes had adjusted to the darkness or because his handsome features were so ingrained in her memory that she could picture them even with closed eyes. The face before her, however, appeared a little more gaunt, with sunken and darker eyes, rendering him somewhat unfamiliar.
She wanted a closer examination, but her voice rang out against her will, edged with palpable tension. "Why are you here at this hour?"
"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked in lieu of an answer, attempting to help her to her feet.
Inés Valenza tried to push him away, but Cárcel continued in vain. After several attempts met with resistance, he stopped
trying and slackened his hold. Only then did she cease her struggle.
Another moment of silence stretched out.
She clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms before she unclenched them. "Did he... did Oscar..." she began, loathing her involuntary flinch at the mere mention of her husband. "Did he put you, the duke, up to such a distasteful errand? Did he command you to spy on his wife while he spends the night at a brothel?"
Duke Escalante, the empress's brother, had collapsed and suddenly passed away. However, as neither Cárcel nor Miguel were married, the matter of who would become the next duke remained pending at this point in her past life. Technically, Cárcel hadn't ascended to Duke Escalante even by the time Inés had died, but around this time, there had been no doubt about him eventually succeeding his late father.
When the duke was alive, Miguel, engaged at the time, had been publicly acknowledged as the heir to the title, but things changed ever since the duke's passing. Miguel lost his fiancée to illness and refused to set foot outside of Esposa for two years. Meanwhile, Cárcel, who had risen through the military ranks, was unexpectedly discharged because of an injury. The anticipated outcome seemed clear to everyone.
There was no way Cárcel Escalante, as free-spirited as he was rumored to be, would refuse to settle down, given the circumstances. Even if he had avoided marriage and inheriting his father's title up to that point.
Inés Valenza locked eyes with him, her gaze unwavering.
For a long while, he stared down at her wordlessly, appearing stunned and unable to form a response, his furrowed eyebrows betraying his confusion. Then he slowly seemed to come to his senses. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I have not inherited my father's title," he said.
A lopsided smile tugged at her lips. Apparently, even her past self seemed to find his reply amusing. "Oh, because you're not married yet," she replied.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"That doesn't mean much. If you were to get married tomorrow morning, you would inherit your father's title by noon."
"And your husband did not order me to do anything, Your Highness," he added, dismissing her remark.
"Are you suggesting you simply happened to be out here at this time of night? Well, I suppose with your status, no part of the palace is off-limits," she sneered.
Despite her biting tone, he remained unresponsive.
She huffed. "You seem eager to set the facts straight, but I see you don't deny my husband being at a brothel."
A look of unmistakable contempt flickered across his face. "You are an open book," Inés Valenza remarked.
His disgust seemed raw, as if he had just found out about Oscar's infidelity. She supposed that the man before her was the kind to be revolted by such behavior. The hatred in his eyes was so clearly meant for Oscar that it bordered on treasonous. It made her worry about whether he had managed to hide his obvious loathing for the crown prince after her demise.
Despite the look on his face, his voice remained stoic as he offered her advice. "Please refrain from saying anything in public that may harm you in any way."
His tone conveyed that he wasn't cautioning her for the sake of preserving her husband's reputation. It was as if he knew or at
least had a hunch about how Oscar twisted her words and tormented her-as if he was strictly concerned for her safety.
Inés wondered whether the passage of time had dulled her sense of shame from her past life. After all, this Cárcel Escalante was now a person from her distant past.
"Do you think I will get in trouble if anyone heard what I just said, Commander?" she inquired.
"You must know there are ears everywhere," he replied solemnly.
"But not here."
The southern part of the palace, accessible only to imperial family and a select few nobles with unrestricted privileges, exuded a secretive air. Devoid of stationed guards, except for those beyond the forest guarding the palace walls, it had only a couple of guard posts out of sight, and patrols were kept to a bare minimum.
The room Inés found herself imprisoned in was no different. Its balcony opened up to the back garden, and the only two knights tasked to guard her room stood at the far end of the hallway, strategically placed to prevent them from accidentally catching a glimpse of her naked body. Oscar, in his desperate attempt to maintain the illusion that his wife wasn't actually locked in this room, had dismissed most of the already scarce staff before detaining Inés. He had gone as far as instructing the two knights to keep an eye on each other, lest one of them get seduced by her and share her bed. The place had never been very well-guarded to begin with, but Oscar's actions, driven by his desire for secrecy, had left the place more poorly guarded.
"Eyes notice things faster than ears, so you should be more concerned about us being seen," she advised Cárcel. "It doesn't
matter what I say to you. If anyone sees me with you, it's over, Commander."
Cárcel hurriedly took a step back. But Inés Valenza reached out and grasped his arm. While she wondered whether this was the arm that had been permanently injured by a gunshot wound, her dream self sounded unconcerned as she continued to speak.
"You see, Oscar despises you so much that if I so much as speak to you at a soirée, he violates me through the whole night afterward."