The Chapel Awaits
“The imperial palace is that kind of place. Monsters who will do anything for power swarm every corner. If you’ve decided to live here, you’d best harden your heart.”
Teoric said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Edric, still frozen in shock, slowly lifted his head and met his superior’s gaze.
“Does Sir Siarkan know about this as well?”
“Of course. He was the one who ordered the investigation into all of it.”
“Then why…?”
Edric’s voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought. The man studied his face for a moment before shrugging.
“Who knows? We can’t begin to guess what goes on in that head of his.”
“……”
“Still, there must be some reason he had no choice but to accept the marriage to the Second Princess.”
Edric frowned. What reason could that possibly be? He wore a grave expression as he pictured the man’s inscrutable face, only to feel a heavy blow land between his shoulder blades. Startled, he turned to look.
Sir Hart had struck him with the flat of his thick palm and now spoke in a deliberately light tone, as if to clear the air.
“Anyway, there’s no need to concern yourself with the Second Princess any longer.”
He added, more seriously, “She’ll be leaving the palace soon enough. Once she’s gone, you won’t have to see her again. So shake off that uneasy feeling and start worrying about your own future instead.”
The last remark came close to a scolding. Teoric shook his head.
“You made a bad impression on the Crown Prince during the pilgrimage. Your own neck is on the line—why are you fretting over someone else?”
Edric’s face darkened. Having the very thing he’d been worrying about pointed out only made his shoulders feel heavier. Seeing his dejected posture, Teoric let out a disbelieving chuckle.
“Well, well. I thought you had no ambition for advancement, the way you’ve been acting without a care for consequences, but apparently that’s not quite true either?”
“At the time… I simply believed I had to fulfill my duty as a royal guard. After all, I was his knight.”
At the stiff reply, a complicated emotion flickered across Sir Hart’s face. He stared hard at his subordinate, then let out a long breath.
“I’ll say it again—that role is over. It’s time for you to return to your proper place.”
Edric looked up at the resolute face, then turned his head toward the towering walls visible between the dense trees. Through the deep green foliage, the roof of the Second Princess’s detached palace came into view. She was someone he had only guarded for a couple of months. If he hadn’t witnessed her suffer such a horrific injury right before his eyes, he probably wouldn’t have cared this much.
Sir Hart is right.
His duty as her escort had ended. The cruel world surrounding her was unfortunate, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Perhaps it’s for the best.
As Sir Hart had said, the imperial palace was a den of monsters blinded by power. Moreover, she was someone thoroughly hated. If she married Sir Siarkan and left for the east, she would at least escape the hostile people surrounding her.
Edric dispelled the vague guilt with a heavy sigh and nodded.
“I understand.”
Satisfied with the answer, a bright smile appeared on Sir Hart’s lips. He draped an arm over his subordinate’s shoulder.
“Good. Then let’s get on with our work.”
Edric let himself be dragged along, glancing back once more at the roof of the detached palace over his shoulder. Then he straightened his head and strode forward with purpose.
Thalia lay on the bed, watching dust motes drift through the air. The glittering particles floated lazily on invisible currents before settling gently onto her body. She reached out, sent them floating upward again, and watched them fall in slow motion. She didn’t know why she was doing something so strange. She felt like seaweed—limp fronds swaying meaninglessly with the current. Perhaps it wasn’t her leg that had been injured, but her head.
While she lay lost in that blank thought, the sound of a door opening and closing reached her. Thalia turned her eyes toward the intruder. Her nanny burst in with an armful of cloth, shooting her a fierce glare.
“How long are you going to stay like that?”
The shrill voice scraped unpleasantly against her eardrums. Thalia pulled the blanket over her head. The nanny snatched it away in one swift motion and continued pouring out her shrill complaints.
“Get up and wash right now! You threw such a fit about not letting anyone else touch you that all the maids were driven out—and now what are you doing?”
Thalia glared at her with narrowed eyes. She couldn’t understand what the woman was saying. She felt as though she had only been sleeping; had someone come in the meantime? Her unfocused gaze swept the room. Shattered dishes and scattered objects lay everywhere. It seemed she really had caused a scene.
“I said get up!”
The nanny hauled Thalia’s limp body upright by force. Thalia merely stared blankly at the nanny’s reddened face, still heavy with sleep. Exasperated, the nanny struck her own chest with a fist.
“How much of that medicinal herb did you burn while I was gone? You can barely walk as it is—how do you expect to enter the chapel like this?”
“Chapel?”
“You have to hold the wedding ceremony!”
“Who’s getting married?”
The nanny’s round face flushed the color of a plum. She looked thoroughly angry, which struck Thalia as funny. With her tongue still half-numb, Thalia spoke carelessly.
“Congratulations on your wedding, Nanny.”
“You’re the one getting married today!”
The nanny shrieked like a goose with its neck twisted.
“You said you would do it yourself—why are you acting like this now?”
Thalia furrowed her brow. Come to think of it, she had agreed to marry Barcas. When had she said that? She didn’t know. Her sense of time seemed to have melted away in a haze of smoke. Blinking slowly with a vacant expression, Thalia eventually swung her legs off the bed. At any rate, today was her wedding day. She probably shouldn’t be lying around like this.
She staggered toward the screen behind which the bath waited.
“I’ll help you bathe and put on your underclothes. The rest will have to be left to the maids from the Empress’s palace.”
“……Yes.”
“You mustn’t scratch or hit anyone.”
“I’m not a cat. Why would I scratch anyone?”
The nanny made a face as though she had bitten into something inedible. Amused by that foolish expression, Thalia smiled faintly. The nanny heaved a sigh and began stripping the nightclothes from her body.
“Just hurry up and wash.”
Thalia stepped into the tub. A cascade of cold water immediately poured over her head. She pushed the hair out of her eyes and rubbed at the stinging. The nanny was clearly in a hurry. She emptied an entire bottle of scented oil over Thalia, then began scrubbing her entire body vigorously with a large brush—more like washing a dog than attending to a princess. Thalia accepted the ministrations without complaint; her dulled senses kept the rough touch from hurting.
“Now, come out.”
After pouring four more pitchers of cold water over her head in quick succession, the nanny urged her impatiently. Thalia climbed out of the tub, water dripping. The nanny wrapped her in a large towel, dried her off, and in the blink of an eye had her dressed in undergarments and a petticoat. Thalia had never imagined the usually sluggish nanny could move so quickly; it was the first time she had seen it.
While she watched in wonder, the nanny wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and dashed out of the bedroom to summon the maids. Soon Thalia found herself surrounded by dozens of women. No—not dozens. One became two, two became three or four in her vision, so the actual number was probably fewer. Still, to Thalia’s eyes there were dozens. She blinked her dizzy gaze, then let her eyelids fall.
A short while later, the maids who had finished all preparations led her somewhere. It felt as though she were being swept away by a current, drifting out into an endless sea. When she came to her senses, she was already riding in a large carriage, heading somewhere. Thalia gazed out the window with unfocused eyes. A sky dyed the color of ash and, beneath it, a massive chapel came into view. The moment that hazy scene entered her sight, an inexplicable anxiety reared its head. Staring at the chapel entrance that had drawn suddenly close, she broke out in a cold sweat and gripped the door handle. She was about to fling the door open and leap out when the carriage came to an abrupt, unannounced stop.
The sudden halt sent her stumbling to the floor. She struck her knee, and a sharp pain shot up to her pelvis. Biting her lip, she swallowed a groan. At that moment the carriage door flew open, and a deep shadow fell over her. Thalia lifted her head with a start and caught her breath at the sight of Barcas, looking as though he were wrapped in an ashen veil. He wore a white ceremonial robe with his family crest embroidered on the loose overcoat, and he was bending toward her. She could feel his blue eyes carefully scanning her face.