A heavy silence descended upon the banquet hall.
Talia felt every eye in the room fixed on her, and she forced a smile.
“Then what are you standing there for? Show our guests in at once.”
Though she chided the head butler in a feigned tone of nonchalance, the man remained by the door, wetting his lips nervously.
“The trouble is… it seems Your Highness must receive them in person.”
Talia’s brow arched.
At present, she held the highest station in the entire East. There could not possibly be a guest of such rank that she was expected to rush out and welcome them herself.
Just as she was about to snap at him, the butler’s trembling voice cut through her irritation.
“The one… the one leading the delegation is Her Imperial Majesty the Empress.”
Talia’s mouth fell open in dazed shock. Her mind went blank, snapping back only when murmurs began to ripple through the room.
She hurried out of the banquet hall. In that moment, she had no room to care whether anyone was watching her uneven stride.
Skirts fluttering, Talia crossed the grand hall and stepped out into the open courtyard.
Hundreds of delegates bearing the imperial standard stood drawn up in formation. At their head, a woman waved with a bright smile.
“Talia!”
Shining as radiantly as the midday sun, the woman crossed the courtyard as lightly as if walking on air. She looked so fresh and luminous it was difficult to believe she had a nineteen-year-old daughter.
“Have you been well?”
In a breath, the woman reached her, sweeping her into an embrace with arms as soft as cream. The sweet scent clinging to her skin made Talia’s head spin.
Talia looked up at her, eyes tangled with confusion, dread, fear, and longing.
“M-Mother, what are you doing here…?”
“I came to see you, of course.”
Senevier whispered tenderly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“I was so curious to know how you were faring that I pleaded with Virus to send me as an envoy. And as always, he couldn't break my resolve.”
Then she cupped her daughter’s cheeks with rose-scented fingers, searching her face in quiet appraisal.
“Your color is better than when you were at the Imperial Palace. It seems your husband is treating you well.”
Without warning, a cold shudder traveled down Talia’s spine. She recoiled from her mother as if scalded.
“Really… why are you here? What kind of scheme are you plotting this time…!”
“Your Imperial Majesty.”
A voice as cold as frost cut her short.
Talia turned toward the sound. Varkas, clad in a long black cotehardie beneath a gray fur-trimmed cloak, was striding across the courtyard.
He must have hurried over after receiving word during the cathedral service. Carrying with him the heavy scent of frankincense, Varkas subtly placed himself between Senevier and Talia as he bowed.
“Thank you for making the long journey.”
“I offer my condolences, Duke Shearkan.”
Deep, swamp-like blue eyes slowly traveled over the young man, whose features looked as though they had been chiseled from marble. A curious smile played on her lips.
“Your father must have passed without regret, having lived to see his son grown into such a fine man.”
At her tone, which sounded as patronizing as if she were speaking to a boy, the faintest sneer tugged at Varkas’s lips.
He answered in his habitual monotone.
“I am humbled by your generous words.”
“You are as modest as ever. Many in the Imperial Palace miss you.”
Senevier gave a light laugh, casting a meaningful glance toward Talia.
“In particular, the Crown Prince and the First Princess seem to feel your absence deeply. Only natural, of course, given how close the three of you were.”
Talia ground her teeth together to keep her face still.
Watching her closely, Senevier turned back to Varkas with a brilliant smile.
“Come to think of it, the two of them asked me to pass along a message to you. Could you spare a moment for us to speak in private?”
A sharp glint crossed Varkas’s eyes.
It was a fact known to all the world that neither of them would ever ask a favor of Senevier.
What could she possibly want to discuss, that she would utter such a transparent lie?
Nothing came of it except a dark, creeping foreboding.
Talia grasped Senevier’s sleeve with slightly trembling hands.
“You said you came to see me, didn’t you? Speak with me.”
At the frantic words tumbling from her lips, an edge of irritation flickered across Senevier’s face.
Talia felt a sudden wave of helplessness, as though she had instantly reverted to a nine-year-old child. She stood pale and paralyzed, just as she used to when agonizing over her mother’s coldness, until a broad hand settled onto her shoulder.
“Go and rest in your chambers, Your Highness.”
Varkas pulled her away from Senevier, turning to address the maids lingering by the entrance.
“Escort the Grand Duchess inside at once.”
The moment the command left his lips, the maids moved in around her.
Talia turned away with reluctance. From behind her, that gentle voice drifted after her.
“Let us save our talk for later, daughter.”
Talia cast a glare over her shoulder before walking away.
Senevier lingered in Varkas’s study for a long while, coming to find her only after the sun had dipped low.
Talia, who had been pacing the room, bolted for the door the moment it opened. But the nanny was one step faster.
Throwing herself forward, the nanny seized the hem of Senevier’s skirt and wept heavy tears.
“Your Majesty! To see you again, so close… I could die today and have no regrets!”
“Oh heavens, why speak of dying?”
Senevier shook off the woman’s grip with fluid ease, letting out an airy, youthful laugh.
“You must live a long, long life. How could I ever rest easy if Talia did not have her nanny at her side?”
The nanny looked up at Senevier, her face brimming with adoration.
Watching the display with a glare of pure revulsion, Talia tugged impatiently at her mother’s arm.
“Can you spare some time for me now?”
At her sharp, caustic question, Senevier’s eyes crinkled in amusement.
“Of course. I came here specifically to speak with you.”
She then offered a radiant smile to the Shearkan knights trailing behind them like shadows.
“I wish to speak quietly with my daughter. Would you mind giving us some privacy?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. For the safety of you both, I cannot grant that.”
Tyrone El Drakan bowed his head, delivering a polite refusal.
The Empress studied the knight who had defied her with mild curiosity, then gave a light shrug.
“It seems being entirely alone is out of the question. Shall we take a short walk?”
Wearing a guarded expression, Talia pulled on her coat and stepped out of the room.
As they made their way down the corridors toward the garden, countless eyes tracked their every movement.
With the news that a political adversary of the Grand Duchy had set foot in the East, the entire castle seemed drawn taut as a bowstring.
Yet Senevier appeared entirely unfazed by the hostile stares. Radiating an effortless, commanding grace, she descended the stairs and crossed the hall with smooth strides, while Talia trailed behind her, limping.
Straining to keep up with Senevier’s pace, Talia soon felt sweat dampening the back of her dress. The Empress, however, showed not the slightest inclination to accommodate her daughter’s limp.
Stepping out into the garden bathed in sunset glow, Senevier paused and glanced back at the knights with an innocent tilt of her head.
“Surely you can keep some distance, can you not?”
When the knights hesitated to respond, her smile tightened with silent pressure.
“Or were you ordered to eavesdrop on our conversation?”
“…No, Your Majesty. We will wait here.”
Tyrone answered with visible reluctance.
Without lingering, Senevier turned along the path blanketed in fallen leaves. Once Talia judged the knights had fallen far enough behind, she pressed her mother impatiently, her steps unsteady.
“What is your true purpose here? Do not lie and say you came to see me. I know better.”
“I really did come to see you. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
Talia scoffed.
This was the very woman who had not bothered to show her face the day Talia was shipped off to the East. What nonsense was she playing at now?
Just as Talia parted her lips to lash out, Senevier leaned in, whispering in her ear as if sharing a secret.
“And I wanted to see whether there was any chance your husband might turn to our side.”
Talia’s eyes widened at the unexpected confession.
Gazing down at the rippling water of the garden pond, Senevier continued smoothly.
“It seems your marriage made Gareth doubt the loyalty of House Shearkan. That is why he is reaching out to the North to secure an alternative power.”
“Does that mean… surely he isn't trying to arrange a new match for Ayla?”
“Yes. It seems Gareth expects the Duke of the North to fill the void left by your husband.”
A faint, mirthless smile curved Senevier’s lips.
“Though I cannot say whether the union will ever come to pass. Your husband is actively working to obstruct it.”
Talia clenched her skirts so hard her knuckles turned white.
Senevier drove the needle deeper with quiet cruelty.
“Because of that, the Imperial Palace is awash with talk of the tragic, unfulfilled love between the First Princess and the young Duke of Shearkan.”
END