10.
After the commotion, Talia retreated into the Annex Palace. However, thanks to the maids who whispered incessantly—as if they hadn’t been mute just days prior—she learned that the boy who had assaulted her was the Crown Prince of the Empire, her own half-brother. She also learned that the black-haired girl she had seen in the birch forest was her half-sister.
She discovered that less than six months had passed since those two had lost their mother. That meant she and Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta had entered the Imperial Palace barely three weeks after the death of the former Empress, Bernadette. Furthermore, as soon as Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta had moved in, she had erased every trace of the former Empress. Talia couldn’t help but think that the small garden tucked behind the Main Palace might have been a remnant of Bernadette that her mother had failed to purge.
She looked out the window. A summer rain was pouring down onto the garden that her mother had so painstakingly tended. The plants, heavy with moisture and exuding a thick, grassy scent, felt like grotesque monsters.
She pulled the curtains shut. Huddled on her bed, she recalled the Crown Prince’s hateful gaze and the face of her half-sister, which had turned deathly pale with terror. She also remembered the blue-eyed boy who had glared at her while shielding her, as if to protect her from harm.
“Varkas Laedgo Siorcan…”
She murmured his name blankly while staring at the ceiling. Though she had finally learned his name, she felt no joy. She realized he would never smile at her. The former Empress, Bernadette, had come from the Marquis Oristein, one of the noble families of Osiria, but her mother had been a noblewoman from the Siorcan Family. The late Empress and Varkas were distant relatives. She had even looked after Varkas with great care when he first entered the Imperial Palace as a young boy to undergo his harsh training. Perhaps he thought of Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta as an archenemy.
‘And me, too…’
Remembering the cold eyes that had scrutinized her, she felt, for the first time, resentment at being the daughter of Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta. She felt ashamed of the appearance she had always taken pride in, which so resembled her mother’s.
Talia didn’t want to feel such emotions. I’m the one who was beaten so terribly, so why should I be the one to feel guilty? It was the Crown Prince who did the bad thing. I really didn’t know anything. What did I do wrong? I’m not bad. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Talia repeated this to herself incessantly. But whenever she was surrounded by the cold gazes of the servants, such thoughts vanished without a trace.
Talia understood perfectly the meaning behind their harsh hands. Bringing her ice-cold bathwater and scrubbing her skin so roughly it turned red, cleverly pricking her with tweezers whenever they changed her clothes, brushing her hair so violently that it left wounds on her scalp, serving her cold, stale food at every meal—all of it was a form of punishment.
She knew she was hated. But since things hadn’t been much different when she lived with the Taren Family, she didn’t pay it much mind. Whenever she felt intimidated, Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta would hug her tightly and whisper that she was the fruit of true love and that she didn’t need to care what anyone said. Talia had believed those words and tried to act with confidence. But now her mother was no longer by her side, and all she heard were whispers about how kind and good the former Empress had been, and how much suffering she had endured before she died.
Talia became visibly dejected. The head she had always held high began to shrink back like a turtle, and her gaze naturally drifted to the floor. The servants, keenly sensing this change, grew even more ruthless. With neither the Emperor nor even Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta showing her any particular interest, it seemed as if they had lost even the fear of being punished.
To them, Talia was never an Imperial Princess. She was merely a testament to a filthy affair, a being who had broken the heart of Bernadette, the Empress they had served with loyalty for so long. Every time she passed through the hallways, Talia could hear them whispering. She felt as though she might lose her mind. Each time she heard them criticize her, a sense of injustice and resentment swelled up.
However, hearing that so many people had suffered because she was born, she sometimes felt as if this sorrow was something she deserved. Yet, their bullying reached a level she could no longer bear.
It was about two seasons after she had entered the Imperial Palace. When Talia came down to the dining room for breakfast, she was overcome with a strange sense of unease. Many servants were present to attend to her; seeing the maids lined up along the walls gave her an ominous premonition.
But contrary to her expectations, the servants were polite, and an unusually large amount of food was placed on the table. Talia stared at the silver plate as if spellbound. The kitchen maid brought freshly baked bread and butter instead of the hardened crusts, followed by roasted quail and hot, steaming stew.
For the past several months, she had eaten nothing but wretched food. Seeing the hot stew, thick with ingredients instead of the cold, watery soup that tasted like rainwater, brought tears to her eyes in shame. Talia glanced around. Dozens of pairs of eyes were watching for her reaction. Perhaps they no longer felt the desire to punish her? Perhaps they had finally forgiven her existence and were ready to show some kindness.
Talia lifted her spoon. She scooped up the steaming broth and pushed it into her mouth. The flavors of butter, milk, and vegetables, along with a gentle sweetness, filled her mouth. An intense hunger washed over her. Forgetting her manners, she shoveled the stew into her mouth.
After she had been eating for a while, she suddenly noticed a strange taste. It was far too pungent to be the gamey odor of meat that the spices had failed to mask. She furrowed her brows and stared intently at the bowl.
At that moment, she heard the sound of giggling from behind her.
Talia whipped her head around. The maids all kept their eyes cast down with expressionless faces, but Talia could clearly see the corners of their mouths twitching. A cold sweat broke out along her spine.
After hesitating, Talia rummaged through the bowl with her spoon. As she pushed aside a large piece of meat, she saw something heavy settled at the very bottom. It wasn’t meat. Talia fished the dark, murky object out and froze in shock. Inside the thick broth lay a gray, bloated mouse, its mouth agape and its body limp. She couldn’t even scream.
She tumbled off her chair and vomited the stew onto the floor. Even though she threw up more than she had eaten, the retching didn’t stop. The foul stench tickling her nose grew stronger. It felt as if the taste of the dead mouse was stuck to the tip of her tongue, never to vanish. She poked her throat with her fingers and scraped at her tongue, forcing out more bile even though there was nothing left to bring up.
As she lay there on the floor retching, a pair of feet moving around the table entered her tear-blurred vision. Talia lifted her head blankly. The maid in charge of the kitchen was clearing the plate with calm indifference, as if nothing had happened. Other servants were also busily moving around, clearing dishes and wiping the surface, as if the girl slumped over her own vomit wasn’t even there.