Scars of Pride
Talia was certain an ant had crawled beneath her eyelids while she slept. Plagued by an unpleasant prickling sensation behind her eyes, she fixed her gaze on her half-sister. Ayla stood over her in her usual flawless, elegant poise, looking down with that same haughty expression. Meeting those cool eyes made the already stinging orbs feel as though they were burning.
Talia clutched the blanket like a shield and shot her a sharp glare. “Come to stare? If you have something to say, say it and get out.”
“……How is your body?”
“How does it look?”
At the sarcastic reply, Ayla’s pale green eyes swept over her slowly. “You do not look well.”
Talia pressed her lips into a tight line. Her fingertips trembled. If both her legs had been sound, she would have seized the woman by the hair and hurled her out the door at once. Swallowing the fury that rose in her throat, she forced out a calm voice. “If you have seen enough, would you kindly leave? Your presence is only making me feel worse.”
Ayla’s lips tightened. The longer the silence stretched, the sharper Talia’s nerves became. The pain she had barely managed to suppress began to climb her bones again, and she raised her voice. “Did you not hear me? Get out.”
“I told you I had something to say.”
Ayla’s tone carried a trace of impatience. Talia narrowed her eyes at her. “Then say it and leave. The sight of your face alone turns my stomach. Must I also endure waiting for you? Don’t make me laugh. Either state your business this instant or disappear from my sight!”
Under the torrent of hostility, Ayla’s face visibly stiffened. She cast a cold glance and spoke. “Very well. I came because I was curious what you intend to do from now on.”
“Do what, exactly?” Talia asked indifferently. The headache was worsening. The ant that had been gnawing behind her eyes now seemed to be burrowing into the bone; the prickling pain spread to the back of her skull. While her attention was fixed there, Ayla continued to prattle on.
“Do not feign ignorance. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“Am I a mind reader? How would I know what you have not said?”
“You……!” Ayla’s voice rose slightly. Talia turned her head and frowned at the contempt twisting her half-sister’s face. After drawing a steadying breath as though struggling to remain composed, Ayla continued in a calmer tone. “I wanted to ask whether you truly mean to marry that man.”
Talia offered no reply, merely gazing at her face. It seemed the one who could no longer bear the silence was now Ayla. She pressed on anxiously. “You dislike Barcas. You have tormented him all your life—surely you do not intend to become his wife now?”
A hollow laugh escaped Talia at the expectant look. Ayla’s mouth hardened. Seeing that wretched expression, Talia’s intermittent chuckles grew rougher until she was clutching her stomach and laughing outright, forgetting the splitting headache and the tingling pain climbing her legs.
“So you came running because you were afraid, is that it?”
Ayla’s complexion had turned ashen, like plaster. Talia regarded the face with satisfaction and continued softly. “You looked as though you were burning up inside at the thought of losing your fiancé to me.”
“……”
“What a pity. The more you act that way, the more I want to take him, no matter what it takes.”
Ayla’s lovely features twisted further into something ugly. Even her evergreen eyes seemed to fill with venom. Talia felt a strange, exhilarating thrill. This was the same sister who had always looked down on her with an immaculate face; now, at last, she was revealing raw emotion.
“He is only agreeing to marry you out of a sense of duty,” Ayla cried, her voice sharp. “He merely feels guilty that you ended up in this state! But it was not his fault you were injured. Why should Barcas have to make such a sacrifice?”
Talia wiped the smile from her lips. The pleasant sensation vanished in an instant, replaced by a freezing anger. Her fingers itched to tear out the tongue that spoke as though it were Barcas’s advocate. She ground down the curses rising in her throat and forced out a deliberately gentle voice. “I thought you were cleverer than this. You are more foolish than I imagined.”
Ayla’s lips froze. Talia continued slowly. “That is not what you should be saying to me right now. You ought to beg—politely, earnestly.”
“……”
“Please, do not marry Barcas Laedgo Seorkan.”
Ayla’s eyes twitched. Talia stared at the humiliated face with malicious satisfaction while Ayla moistened her lips and forced out the words. “If I beg, will you refuse to marry him?”
“I wonder.” Talia answered offhandedly. “That depends on how desperate the person begging appears, does it not?”
Ayla bit her lip and looked at the floor, as though her mouth refused to open. After a suffocating silence, she finally lifted her gaze with a resolute expression. A pitiful voice spilled from between her well-shaped pink lips. “I am begging you. Refuse to marry Barcas. If you do not consent, His Majesty will not force the matter either. So please……” Her voice shattered before she could finish.
Talia looked up at that desolate face and swallowed a bitter sneer. This woman believed she had offered something tremendous—her pride as a princess. She thought that by stooping before a lowly illegitimate child, she was entitled to receive something in return.
Talia’s eyes dropped to her own legs hidden beneath the blanket. Only in this wretched state had she ever been considered a bride for him. Yet this woman believed that offering a handful of her own paltry pride would be enough to reclaim him. To Ayla, Talia Roem Guerta’s legs were worth less than her own pride.
Talia spoke abruptly. “Very well.” Color returned to Ayla’s face. Talia regarded her quietly for a moment, then added calmly, “On one condition.”
“A condition?” Wariness flickered across Ayla’s features. Talia turned her head toward the shelf. On a tray of fruit, bread, and butter sat several silver utensils. She picked up the small knife used for cutting butter and tossed it at her half-sister’s feet. The silver blade slid to a stop. Talia spoke softly to Ayla, who stared down at it blankly. “Take that and stab your leg.”
“……What?” Ayla looked at her as though doubting her ears. Meeting those dazed eyes, Talia emphasized each word. “I said, leave a scar on your leg with it. Like this……” She slowly drew back the blanket. Ayla’s eyes widened at the sight of the grotesquely swollen scar. Talia deliberately traced the long, hideous mark from her shin upward with her fingertip. “From here…… all the way to here. Cut it open with the knife. Then I will do as you say.”
Ayla’s gaze shifted between the knife on the floor and her own legs wrapped in velvet. Her eyelids trembled. At last, a cold laugh escaped her bloodless lips. “From the beginning, you never had the slightest intention of listening to me.”
Talia offered no reply. Soon the mask of a princess settled over Ayla’s face once more. As though she had never shown a moment of humiliation, she lifted her chin and strode toward the door. The steady footsteps halted at the threshold. Ayla, hand on the doorknob, turned back. Her swamp-dark eyes gleamed with a chilling light. “You will surely regret today’s events, Talia Roem Guerta.”
The curse-like words left her lips as she stepped outside, then added coldly, “Without fail.”