15.
Aila furrowed her brows, irritated that their moment of peace had been severed.
Turning, she spotted a man in the uniform of the Imperial Guard moving with urgent, heavy strides across the rear garden. It was Rowen, a knight who had been tasked with escorting her father in place of Varkas, the general commander of this journey.
The knight stopped before them and offered a brief, stiff bow to Aila before turning toward his superior, his expression tight with anxiety.
“His Majesty has ordered that you be brought to him this instant, Commander.”
Aila instinctively realized that it was Imperial Princess Talia Roem Gwirta who had summoned Varkas. The dark tension on the knight’s face made it all too easy to guess that something unpleasant was afoot.
She bit her lip. This pilgrimage was sanctioned by parliament, and her marriage to Varkas had been long championed by the conservative nobles aligned with the Crown Prince. Whatever scheme that woman was hatching, she shouldn’t have the power to overturn it.
Yet, a cold, ominous premonition clung to Aila. Hadn’t that woman spent years weaving elaborate webs to drive a wedge between Gareth and Varkas?
She had even braved the fierce opposition of the Grand Duke Siorcan to bind Varkas—who had only just completed his investiture ceremony—to her service for a staggering seven years. There was little doubt she was now manipulating the Emperor to obstruct them once again.
Ignoring the breach of etiquette, Aila stepped between the two men.
“I will go with you.”
“But, Your Highness…”
“I am an Imperial Princess of this empire. I have the right to audience with His Majesty whenever I wish. And I have decided that I will see my father now, alongside my fiancé.”
Flustered by her resolve, the knight cast a sidelong glance at Varkas.
Aila felt a sting of resentment that the knight weighed Varkas’s silent approval over her own royal decree, but she remained composed; she knew well that the knights practically worshipped the ground Varkas walked upon.
Finally, Varkas gave a curt nod.
“Do as the Princess wishes.”
Once his permission was granted, the knight stepped to her left as if to shepherd her. With her back rigid and chin held high, Aila exited the garden and headed toward the Main Palace.
Passing into the Great Hall, the interior, baked by the intense summer sun, came into view. She traversed the gleaming white marble expanse and climbed the stairs draped in reddish-brown carpet.
The massive doors leading to the Emperor’s audience chamber were carved with the likeness of Darian, the first emperor who founded the Roem Empire, and the knights who had followed him.
Glancing indifferently at the statues of the heroes she knew by heart, she passed through the grand entrance into a wide hall lined with ornate carpets, a golden throne anchoring the far end.
Aila straightened her spine as she looked up at the man who held the world’s power and the woman standing guard by his side. Her father wore his usual solemn mask, but Talia…
Her train of thought snapped. The moment she caught sight of the Empress, bathed in a golden halo of light, a sense of hollow, despairing helplessness washed over her.
For some reason, Talia grew more beautiful with each passing year. It was terrifying.
*Golden devil.*
Whenever she faced her, Aila was reminded of a fable from her childhood.
In a village, there once lived brothers who cherished each other above all else. But a devil, hating all that was good, had sought to tear them apart; it dropped a massive lump of gold on their path. Blinded by the brilliant radiance, the brothers fought over the treasure until they destroyed one another.
When she had first met Talia, Aila thought the gold the devil used to shatter the brothers had taken human form.
Her radiance had blinded the eyes and hearts of a once-honorable monarch, drowned a woman in sorrow, and forced brothers to live in agonizing humiliation. As if that weren’t enough, that devil had even gone so far as to bear the Emperor’s son, threatening Gareth’s very position.
Aila’s gaze dropped to the small boy at the Empress’s side. The Second Prince, Asros Roem Gwirta, was looking at Varkas and her with curious green eyes.
Every time she saw the boy’s bright, intelligent gaze, a sense of crisis consumed her. She struggled to understand why Gareth focused his vitriol on Talia—a mere scandal—rather than the younger brother who held a claim to the throne.
The humiliation her mother had endured because of Talia flared in her memory. And yet, Talia was a trivial thing, incapable of inflicting any true, lasting damage. All that child had done since entering the Imperial Palace was bully servants and spark scandals, earning nothing but hisses of disapproval. How could such a foolish brat be a threat?
To Aila, Talia was merely an unpleasant, pathetic remnant of the past—something one simply had to endure. That was why she had always generously overlooked the wicked, petty pranks the woman threw at her.
But Asros was different. She knew the Imperial Palace was drawn to the boy’s innocent demeanor. Those uneasy with Gareth’s rougher temper were starting to place their hopes in the young prince…
“Why are you not paying your respects?”
Aila was shaken from her thoughts by the heavy, echoing voice. The Emperor was looking at her with a puzzled expression.
Aila approached her fiancé and offered a small, formal bow.
“I followed Lord Siorcan because I wished to see Father’s face. Please, forgive me for arriving without notice.”
“Raise your head. You may come to see me whenever you wish.”
The soft voice of the Emperor, Virus Roem Gwirta, rang out above her. Perhaps he felt a flicker of guilt when he saw her, knowing how he had betrayed her mother, but he was always unusually lenient with her.
Aila swallowed a sneer and inclined her head politely.
“I thank you for your generous words.”
“It is actually for the best. The First Imperial Princess would have discovered it eventually anyway. We might as well explain it to everyone while we are here.”
Talia, who had been stroking her son’s reddish-brown curls, whispered as she leaned toward the Emperor.
Asros observed them with a curious expression, as if the adult conversation were merely a piece of entertainment. Aila, who had been watching her half-brother with wary eyes, cast a sharp, cold look at the Empress.
“What is it you intend to explain?”
“His Majesty will tell you the details.”
Talia replied in a soft, whispering tone, gently stroking the back of the Emperor’s hand. Aila tried hard to ignore the sight.
After an awkward silence hung in the air, her father, who had been brooding as if choosing his words, finally spoke.
“I called for you today to inform you that there has been a change in the plans for this pilgrimage.”
“Please speak. I am listening.”
Varkas showed no agitation at the announcement. Appearing slightly uncomfortable with his retainer’s unflappable composure, the Emperor spoke in a blunt tone.
“Talia will also be joining this pilgrimage. Ensure that additional guards are assigned to her and that all necessary travel equipment is prepared.”
Aila froze at the unexpected command.