Because she had chased off every servant sent from the Main Palace, fewer than ten maids remained assigned to the Separate Palace. Having barred even them from coming near her, the attendants she could actually bring along could be counted on one hand.
For that reason, Talia found herself forced to embark on this long journey flanked by servants Senevier had dispatched. Her instinct was to throw them all out, yet watching Gareth and Ayla surrounded by hundreds of attendants, she could not bring herself to do it.
Talia bit her lip in bitter resentment, glaring at the crowd encircling the carriages of the Crown Prince and the First Princess.
She had spent years allowing no one near her except Varkas and her nanny, revolted by the idea of sycophants fluttering around her. She had wanted no one at her side who might turn and trample her at any moment.
Yet the thought of her own pathetic figure—trailing along with a mere three or four attendants while her half-siblings flaunted the imperial house’s majesty with hundreds of servants—made her stomach churn.
In the end, Talia had had no choice but to take the maids Senevier offered. Even so, she could not let down her guard for an instant, wondering what scheming they might be plotting. Talia watched them with hawk-eyed intensity, monitoring every move as they hauled her luggage.
Just then, an exasperated voice reached her ears.
“Do you truly intend to take all of this with you?”
She looked up, fixing a sharp glare on the man who had come up beside her.
Shortly after she dismissed the dim-witted guard who had groveled before the Crown Prince, this newly assigned knight had taken to addressing her without the slightest hesitation. Talia cared very little for his attitude.
She threw back a cold question at the man, who was scratching the back of his head with an uneasy grimace.
“Do you have some grievance with my travel arrangements?”
“I understand your desire to uphold your imperial dignity, Princess. But isn’t this excessive? Hundreds of dresses, and even this much fine jewelry… Unless you plan to change five times a day, it’s nothing but dead weight.”
“You know nothing. I plan to change ten times a day, not five. Sitting in a carriage all day covers one in dust, and I have no intention of wearing soiled clothes for even an instant.”
“What a jest…”
The knight let out an awkward chuckle. Clearly, he had not yet realized that she never jested.
Leaving the stunned man behind, Talia turned and walked toward her designated carriage.
Positioned toward the rear of the long procession, her carriage was every bit as grand and opulent as the Crown Prince’s.
Gold and ivory lavishly adorned its doors and roof, and the interior featured seats wide enough to serve as beds, heaped with cushions of dense wool felt and silk.
She climbed inside and drew back the curtain hanging behind the seating, revealing a generous dressing compartment and a large storage cabinet.
Talia pulled open the drawers fitted to the luggage compartment, inspecting the contents in detail. She had packed garments tailored from the finest fabrics she possessed along with an array of ornaments, yet none of it satisfied her. None of this was enough to eclipse Ayla.
She rummaged restlessly through the drawers, gnawing on her lower lip.
Perhaps she should have stolen the diamond necklace Senevier received from the Emperor. No, she should have taken her mother’s entire casket of jewels.
Senevier seemed eager for her to ruin Ayla’s engagement; she had been blatant enough with her encouragement. Had Talia asked for gowns and jewels to achieve that end, the Empress would have parted with them gladly.
‘Should I go to the Empress’s Palace right now?’
After staring down at the drawers with uneasy eyes, Talia stepped down from the carriage. Just as she turned toward Senevier’s residence, she caught sight of Varkas standing among the soldiers in the uniform of the Roem Knights.
Talia froze. Though more than a hundred and fifty men wore that same uniform across the castle courtyard, her eyes saw only Varkas.
Her obsessive gaze clung to his straight back, his broad shoulders, and his faintly shimmering ash-blond hair.
Varkas strode across the courtyard with disciplined precision, barking orders to his subordinates. He appeared to be inspecting the formation before their departure.
Talia swallowed hard. As he drew near, her throat stung as though she had swallowed crushed glass.
His indifferent gaze, which had been sweeping the long column stretching from the castle gate, finally settled on her carriage.
Even from a distance, Talia caught the slight furrow between his brows. It was the face he always wore whenever he looked upon her.
That cold countenance, which brought her such agony every passing moment, drew steadily nearer.
“Are the departure preparations still incomplete?”
Varkas rebuked her guard without sparing her a single glance. The man rubbed the nape of his neck, looking vexed.
“As you can see, Commander, it appears we must secure another baggage wagon.”
At the knight’s sighing answer, Varkas turned his pale blue eyes toward the servants struggling to force a mountain of baggage into the carriage. Talia saw a brief flash of irritation cut across his impassive face.
At last, his gaze fell upon her.
“This column is scheduled to pass through six major cities. You may purchase whatever you require on the road, so discard the nonessentials.”
She tilted her chin up, deliberate in her defiance.
“I refuse. What do you know of what I might need?”
“It is only dresses and trinkets in any case,” he replied, his tone flat.
“The northwest holds many cities rich in trade and craft. You will have ample opportunity to buy whatever you desire, so cease wearing out the servants before we have even departed.”
Talia scoffed.
“Do not patronize me. You merely wish to paint me as an unseemly princess indulging in vanity on a sacred pilgrimage so people can hold me against Ayla, do you not? Did you think I would fall for that?”
“Since when did you concern yourself with your reputation…”
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly, as though he found her ridiculous.
“In the first place, no one would ever place you beside the First Princess. Set aside your groundless worries.”
Those were words she never wanted to hear from him, not if it killed her.
Flushed with fury, Talia raised her hand to strike. But Varkas was not a man to stand and take a blow. Seizing her wrist in a swift motion, he tipped his chin toward the servants.
“Leave only what is necessary and unload the rest. We depart in fifteen minutes. Hurry.”
“By whose authority?!”
Talia shrieked, wrenching with all her strength to tear her arm from his grip. The man did not budge.
Rage overtaking her, she kicked him hard in the shin and screamed.
“Who do you think you are to tell them to touch my belongings? Do you think yourself of any consequence yet? You are not Duke yet! You are merely an imperial knight! How dare a common knight lay hands upon an Imperial Princess…!”
“What are you waiting for? Be quick about it.”
Ignoring Talia’s frenzy, he cast a frigid glare at the servants. At once, the attendants who had been hesitating under the tension scrambled to drag the luggage back out of the carriage.
Nothing could have proven more clearly that the word of Varkas—future Duke of Shearkan and Commander of the Imperial Guard—carried far greater weight than the screams of a princess in name alone.
Her eyes venomous, Talia lost all control and lunged at one of the maids.
“Take your hands off my luggage this instant! If even a single item goes missing, I will have every last one of you hanged…!”
The sentence died in her throat. Varkas scooped her up by one arm and shoved her straight into the carriage, as though tossing aside a troublesome sack of baggage.
Forced down onto the carriage seat, Talia felt her face burn crimson with humiliation.
Varkas was a man whose loyalty to the imperial line ran to his very marrow. He would never dare lay a hand so carelessly upon Ayla.
The sole reason he could treat her with such roughness was that he did not view her as true imperial blood.
The sheer disgrace brought a stinging prickle of tears to her eyes. It was unbearable, heartbreaking, that a man who was unfailingly courtly toward her half-sister reserved only endless insolence for her.
END