26.
Gareth observed the profile of his half-sister with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He suddenly felt a surge of annoyance at himself for paying such close attention to every move of this trivial creature and turned his head away.
What did it matter what went on inside that head of hers? On the day he ascended the throne, she was a presence he would erase from this world forever. He only had to endure until then.
As if to wash away the lingering presence of his annoying sister, he gulped down the strong wine.
* * *
Talia brought the wine to her lips, feigning a look of boredom. Then, realizing her fingertips were trembling, she set the glass down immediately. Attempting to appear natural, she hid her hands beneath the table and moistened her parched lips.
The spot where she had touched Varkas burned as if scorched. Though there had been no direct skin-to-skin contact, the sensation of his hard knuckles—felt through his cold leather gloves—seemed to have seeped into her very marrow.
She tensed her shoulders, which kept trying to hunch inward, and wiped her sweat-dampened palms against her skirt. She could feel the moisture-laden hem of her dress clinging to her skin.
A feeling of defeat washed over her. The dress she had chosen specifically to provoke Gareth’s anger now felt like a noose.
She clenched her fists, feeling a stinging tension along her bare shoulders and spine. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly be watching her, her nerves were frayed to the point of pain.
Talia desperately suppressed the urge to glance over her shoulder. Through years of acting, she could force a composed expression, but she could do nothing about the sweat beading on her skin.
Feeling the thin fabric cling like a sticky liquid, Talia bit down on her lower lip. Choosing this dress had been a truly stupid decision.
“Does the food not suit your palate?”
At the sudden voice, Talia flinched. The young monk sitting opposite her was staring at her intently.
Was he the Abbot? Talia gave a dismissive shrug.
“It is humble compared to the food I am accustomed to at the Imperial Palace.”
At her indifferent remark, the monk’s face twisted faintly.
She turned her head away abruptly, signaling for him to stop, and picked up a small piece of cake. If she pretended to eat, perhaps he would leave her be. With that thought, she shoved the dry morsel into her mouth and chewed it mechanically. It felt like swallowing a sponge.
She forced back the nausea and took a sip of wine. Then, noticing a few other monks staring at her persistently, she furrowed her brow. Their sticky, clinging gazes felt more sickening than the greasy food.
She stood up abruptly.
“What a disappointing banquet. I shall return and get some sleep.”
Gareth shot a look of annoyance her way. In normal circumstances, she would have thrown a few more barbs to get under her brother’s skin, but she couldn’t bear to remain; bile rose in her throat.
She exited the hall quickly. Once she stepped out of the space filled with the scent of grease, alcohol, and burning candles, her churning stomach settled.
Taking a deep breath, Talia brushed back the hair on her forehead, damp with cold sweat, and walked softly along the corridor.
The cold night air brushed against her spine. Wrapping her arms around herself as goosebumps rose, she quickened her pace.
Sometimes, she reached a point where she no longer understood why she was doing these things. What was the point of causing trouble by putting herself on display?
“The Crown Prince seems unable to tolerate your existence at all. Sometimes, it seems he finds you even more intolerable than he does me.”
The voice of the Empress, once murmured with satisfaction, echoed in her ears.
It had been the day of the memorial ceremony for the late Empress Bernadette.
Seeing her enter the banquet hall, led by her mother’s hand, Gareth had completely lost his reason.
The nobles who saw him let out a beastly cry and strangle the young Imperial Princess were horrified, attempting to intervene, but the Crown Prince would not budge. Only when two knights rushed in were they able to tear him away.
Finally freed from his ferocious grip, Talia had crawled to her mother’s feet and curled into a ball. Then, the Empress had wrapped her arms around her as if to protect her.
The feeling of relief that almost brought her to tears lasted only a moment; Talia had seen a flicker of satisfaction on the Empress’s face.
It must have been from that day on. The time she began to provoke Gareth whenever the opportunity arose.
Her reputation, already at rock bottom, plummeted further—but that didn’t matter. The Crown Prince’s reputation would suffer too, and that would please her mother.
Suddenly, a hollow laugh erupted from her lungs. It was ridiculous that she was still struggling to earn a handful of affection.
Even if she dragged the Crown Prince’s honor into the dirt, the Empress would never love her.
Her mother loved no one. Not the Emperor, and surely not Asros, whom she cherished so dearly.
To her, everything was merely a tool. Perhaps it was because she knew that so well that she kept repeating these actions. If she couldn’t prove her utility, she would truly become nothing to her…
“Your Imperial Highness.”
At the sudden voice, Talia was snapped out of her thoughts.
Turning her head, she saw a dark figure standing tall in one corner of the dim corridor. Realizing the man was the monk who had been obsessively staring at her in the banquet hall, Talia stiffened.
‘Did he follow me?’
She carefully scanned her surroundings. There wasn’t a single soul to be seen in the long corridor leading to the garden. The thought that he had silently pursued her into a secluded spot made her blood run cold.
“What is your business?”
Talia tried not to show her fear, forcing her voice to carry dignity.
Fortunately, the bluff worked; she saw the monk hesitate. She glared at him, hoping he would simply turn and flee.
“I asked what your business was.”
“I—I was, because of what you said earlier…”
The monk stammered.
She frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“W-well… earlier at the banquet…”
The man wriggled uncomfortably, his freckled face reddening as he cast lewd, sidelong glances at her.
Talia forced strength into her legs to keep from backing away. If she showed weakness, the opponent would only become more aggressive. She lifted her chin haughtily.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. If you have no particular business, I shall be leaving.”
“Y-you said… you wanted to live up to the expectations of the Crown Prince… didn’t you?”
The man blurted out anxiously.
Talia, who had been turning toward the garden, hesitated and looked back. Could it be? Had she been followed because she had made a provocative remark, spurred by Gareth’s warning not to play around with the priests?
Suddenly, her spine turned cold, as if she had been splashed with icy water.