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Chapter 26
Gareth ‌‌‌observed his half-sister's profile with suspicious eyes, and suddenly, irritation flared within him at how excessively ‌‌‌he was attending to every movement of this insignificant creature. He turned his head away.
What did it matter what lay inside that head of hers? When ‌‌‌he ascended to the throne, she would be erased from this ‌‌‌world forever anyway. He merely had to endure until then.
As if to erase ‌‌‌the vexing presence of his sister, he gulped down harsh wine in greedy swallows.
* * *
Talia brought the wine glass to her lips while feigning ‌‌an expression of ennui. Then she noticed her fingertips trembling faintly and immediately ‌‌‌set ‌‌the glass down. Striving to appear as natural as possible, I hid my hands beneath the table and moistened my parched lips.
The place where I had touched Barcas burned as if set aflame. Though our bare skin had not made ‌‌contact, the sensation of his firm bone structure felt through cold leather gloves seemed to seep into my very skin.
I pressed my shoulders down as they threatened to hunch inward, rubbing my sweat-dampened palms across my skirt. I felt ‌‌‌the moisture-laden fabric cling to my skin.
Suddenly, a wave of mortification crashed over me. The dress I had chosen to provoke Gareth's anger felt like it was strangling my neck.
I felt my exposed shoulders and back prickle ‌‌‌‌with discomfort, my fists clenching tightly. Even though ‌‌I knew that man was not looking at me, my nerves were drawn taut to the point of pain.
I desperately suppressed the urge to turn and look over my shoulder to see where ‌that man's gaze was directed. Years of acting allowed me to maintain a composed expression well enough, but there was nothing I could do about the perspiration gradually seeping through my skin.
Feeling the thin fabric stick to my skin like a viscous liquid, I bit down on my lower lip. Choosing this dress had truly been a foolish decision.
"Does the ‌‌food not suit your palate?"
At the sudden voice, I flinched. A young monk seated across from me was gazing at me intently.
Was he the Abbot? I gave an exaggerated shrug.
"It pales in comparison to what I ate at the Imperial Palace."
At my dismissive ‌‌remark, the monk's face twisted slightly.
To redirect his attention away from me, I ‌‌‌turned my head sharply and picked up a small piece of cake. If I pretended to eat something, he wouldn't bother speaking to me. With ‌that thought, I pushed the crumbly morsel into my mouth and mechanically chewed and swallowed. It felt like swallowing a sponge.
I swallowed my nausea and took a sip of wine. Then I noticed several monks staring at me persistently, and I frowned. Their sticky gazes felt more repulsive than greasy food.
I rose abruptly from my seat.
"A disappointing banquet indeed. ‌‌I think I shall ‌‌‌retire and seek some rest."
Gareth sent me an irritated glance. Under normal circumstances, I would have thrown a ‌‌‌few more barbs to get under my brother's skin, but ‌I felt as though bile might rise from my throat at any moment, and I could not remain seated.
I quickly slipped out of the Grand Hall. As ‌‌I left the space filled with the stench of ‍‌‌‌grease, alcohol, and burning candles, my roiling stomach ‌‌seemed to settle somewhat.
Drawing a deep ‌‌‌breath, I wiped my cold-sweat-dampened forehead and made my way along the Corridor with measured steps.
I felt ‌‌the chill of the night air sweep down my spine. Wrapping my arms around my goose-bumped forearms, I quickened my pace slightly.
There were times when I could not understand why I was doing such things. What meaning was there in displaying myself before people's eyes and stirring up discord? ‌‌
"The Crown Prince seems utterly unable ‌‌to tolerate your existence. Sometimes it seems he cannot accept you even more ‌‌than he cannot accept me."
Senebier's voice, which I had heard her murmur contentedly at some point, echoed ‌‌‌faintly in my ears.
It must have been the day of the memorial service for the deceased Empress Bernadette.
When Gareth saw me enter the hall led by my mother's hand, he completely lost his reason.
As he shrieked and seized the young princess's throat, the nobles who witnessed it cried out in alarm and tried to stop him, but the Crown Prince did not budge. Only when two knights rushed forward were they able to tear him away.
Barely freed from those hideous hands, I ‌‌‌‌crawled to my mother's feet and curled up against her. Then Senebier wrapped her arms around me protectively.
For a moment, I ‌felt tears welling up ‌‌‌from relief, but then I caught a glimpse of satisfaction crossing Senebier's face.
It must ‌‌‌have been from that day onward that I began to provoke Gareth whenever the opportunity arose.
My reputation, already at ‌‌‌‌rock bottom, plummeted to its worst, but it did not matter. The Crown Prince's reputation would suffer as well, and then Mother would be pleased.
Suddenly, a hollow laugh burst from my lungs. I ‌‌‌found myself ridiculous—even now, still struggling to earn even a scrap of her affection.
Even if I were to drag the Crown Prince's honor through the dirt, Senebier would never come to love me.
Mother loves no one. Not The Emperor, and certainly not Astros, whom she cherishes so dearly.
To her, everything was merely a tool and a means. Perhaps I repeated these actions precisely because I understood that all too well. If I could not prove my ‌‌usefulness, I would truly become ‌‌‌nothing to her....
"Your Highness the Princess."
Talia snapped back to awareness at the sudden sound of a voice.
Turning her head, she glimpsed a dark silhouette looming ‌‌‌in the shadows ‌of the Corridor. The moment she recognized it as the monk ‌‌who had been watching her so ‌‌‌‌‌intently in the Banquet Hall, her body went rigid.
'Did he follow me?'
She ‌‌surveyed her surroundings ‌‌‌cautiously. The long Corridor ‌leading to the Garden was utterly deserted—not a soul in sight. The realization that he had trailed her silently all the way to this desolate place sent a chill racing down her spine.
"What do you want?"
Talia forced authority into her voice, careful to conceal ‌‌‌any trace of fear.
Her bluff seemed to work—she felt the monk hesitate. She fixed him with a piercing gaze, hoping he would simply turn and flee.
"I asked what you want."
"It's... it's about something you said earlier..."
The monk stammered the words out.
She furrowed her brow.
"What did I say?"
"W-well... back in the ‌‌‌‌Banquet Hall..."
The man ‌‌‌‌‌squirmed uncomfortably, his freckled face flushing crimson as his gaze drifted toward her with unmistakable intent.
Talia forced her legs to stand firm, refusing to retreat. She knew that showing weakness would only embolden him. She tilted her chin up defiantly.
"I haven't the faintest idea what ‌‌‌you're talking about. If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
"Y-you said you wanted to... to live up to the Crown Prince's expectations..."
The man blurted it out desperately.
Talia, who had turned toward the Garden, froze. Could it ‌‌‌be? Had he ‌‌‌followed her after hearing her reckless words—her defiant response to Gareth's warning not to toy with the Priests?
A chill ‌‌washed over her like ice water.

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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To ‌‌‌‌support ‌‌our team and enjoy ‌the latest releases, please ‌‌‌‌‌‌‌read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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