Act 1. This Love Is Like a Curse.
Talia looked into the mirror. The face she had grown sick of since the day she was born stared back at her.
There were subtle differences. Instead of an elegant smile and eyes glowing with a sultry, mysterious light, the girl in the mirror had dry lips and gaze clouded by anxious agitation.
Glaring at her reflection with clear displeasure, Talia turned toward her nanny.
“How do I look?”
“You look like an absolute angel.”
The nanny, who had been brushing her hair without rest, smiled until her eyes creased into crescents.
“Your Highness truly looks just like Lady Senevier. Dressed up with such care, it’s like seeing Lady Senevier when she was eighteen.”
Talia swatted away the plump hand still fussing with her hair. Irritation flared at the nanny’s foolishness, mistaking a comparison to someone else for a compliment.
“That’s enough brushing. Go get the dress.”
With the look of a kicked dog, the nanny waddled over to the wardrobe.
Talia watched her with cold disdain. How could someone be so hopelessly dim?
Rummaging through the chest with muffled grunts, the woman pulled out a red satin dress and gave Talia a cautious glance.
“Look at this. It’s the dress Lady Senevier wore the first day she set foot in the Imperial Palace. She seems to have had it prepared especially for Your Highness.”
Talia’s expression curdled.
“Nanny, do you really remember every stitch my mother wore that long ago?”
“Of course! How could I ever forget that day? Lady Senevier seemed scarcely of this world. She was so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes just knowing such grace existed. Even His Imperial Majesty couldn’t take his eyes off her.”
The nanny sighed, her eyes unfocused as though lost in a pleasant reverie.
Talia swallowed a hollow scoff. Did the woman genuinely think that meeting was some romance of the century?
Back then, the Emperor had already been married to his Empress for six years, and she had been on the verge of giving birth. The meeting between Senevier and the Emperor was a sordid affair—nothing more, nothing less.
Even after the late Empress Bernadette died and Senevier took her place, people never forgot. And as long as Talia herself breathed, they would never forget the shameless sin her parents had committed.
Talia bit back the venom rising in her throat and snatched the dress from the nanny’s hands.
“If you have time to chatter, spend it finishing my preparations.”
“Of course, of course. I’ll see to it at once.”
The nanny helped her into the exquisite velvet bliaut.
Talia smoothed her hair and turned to the mirror once more. Dressed in her mother’s gown, the resemblance was unmistakable.
Had that suffocating, ominous sensuality begun to take root in her as well? Talia stared at the swell of her breasts, rising in soft curves above the low square neckline.
No one could call the sight dignified, but neither could anyone deny its breathless allure.
Out of habit, Talia lifted a finger toward her mouth, but stopped herself to avoid ruining her cosmetics. Tonight, of all nights, she had to look more beautiful than anyone. More beautiful than her mother, if she could.
‘I want every eye on me. So no one even spares a glance for someone like Ayla.’
A ferocious hunger flared in the deep blue eyes looking back from the glass. It was not the gaze of an Imperial Princess, but of a starving beggar on the streets.
Talia seized a candlestick from the vanity and drove it violently into the mirror. Glass shattered with a sharp crash, fine cracks spiderwebbing outward across the surface. The nanny, who had been adjusting the hem of the skirt, collapsed to the floor in terror.
Talia cast the candlestick aside and spoke in a chilling voice.
“I’m sick of that mirror. Replace it.”
Her face pale, the nanny looked up at her, pressed her lips into a thin line, and climbed to her feet. Then, acting as if nothing had occurred, she draped a lavish, fur-trimmed mantle over Talia’s shoulders.
Talia glared at her own reflection, splintered into dozens of fragments, before turning away on her heel.
Stepping into the corridor, she saw the escort knight Senevier had sent standing at attention against the wall. Ignoring the man, whose face flushed red as he stared at her, she started down the stairs.
A gold-trimmed carriage and eight guards waited before the Separate Palace. It seemed Senevier had no intention of letting her eldest daughter appear pitiful.
‘You only want me to unsettle your political enemies.’
With a wry twist of her lips, Talia climbed into the carriage. Just then, an unfamiliar guard stepped forward to close the door and spoke, the words bursting out as though burning the back of his throat.
“You are… truly breathtaking tonight, Your Highness.”
Hearing the naked longing in his voice, the fine hairs along her arms stood on end.
Talia cut him down with a sharp glance. She had no use for praise from the likes of him.
“Save your nonsense and get moving.”
Flustered, the man shut the door.
The carriage soon lurched into motion. Talia leaned deep into the seat, watching the blood-red sky through the swaying curtains.
‘How glorious it would be if tonight’s banquet were drenched in that same color. If only a violent scandal would break out and ruin everything.’
Her fingers drifted unconsciously to her lips, but she pulled her hand away the moment she noticed red pigment smudging her fingertips.
Her nerves felt raw and fraying. In mocking contrast to her mood, warm melodies and brilliant light spilled from the Main Palace.
Stepping down from the carriage, Talia frowned at the broad avenue leading to the banquet hall and the ostentatious gardens. Hundreds of nobles swathed in silk ascended the marble steps toward the palace entrance.
Ignoring the knight trailing behind her, she strode toward the hall doors. Those who recognized her parted without a word.
It was only right. The Imperial Palace was her home; she had no intention of waiting in line like an invited guest.
Talia looked at the flustered servant standing guard and spoke casually.
“I’ve come to celebrate my siblings’ birthdays.”
The servant’s eyes rounded in shock.
Her voice turned sharp.
“What are you waiting for? Announce me at once.”
Startled, the man scrambled to the side of the pillar and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Her Imperial Highness, the Second Princess, Talia Roem Guirta is entering!”
In an instant, an icy hush descended over the vast hall.
Keeping her chin high, she stepped into the glittering, gold-drenched expanse. She could feel hundreds of stinging gazes appraising her from head to foot.
Talia quietly relished the shock, the anger, the bewilderment, and the reluctant sighs of admiration forced from their lips as she glided forward. People shrank back from her like the receding tide.
‘As if I were a plague.’
Talia thought to herself, a cruel smile curling her lips.
Then someone stepped into her path.
“What brings you here?”
She looked the man squarely in the face. He was one of the fools who trailed after her spotless half-sister, Ayla.
Talia deliberately tilted her head into a mysterious smile. She had seen her mother bewitch men that way a thousand times.
“Am I forbidden from being here?”
The man’s guarded face flushed crimson, and he took a step back in confusion.
Talia closed the distance by two steps, tilting her chin up.
“This is my father’s palace, and tonight is a banquet for my siblings. What is so strange about my presence?”
When her gaze locked onto his, the man froze, unable to move so much as an inch.
She noticed his broad nostrils flare, catching the scent of the rose oil the nanny had so carefully worked into every lock of her hair.
Seeing his eyes glaze over as though drunk on heavy wine, a strange thrill of satisfaction and a sharp wave of disgust collided inside her. Talia walked right past the man, whose lips trembled without finding words, and made her way toward the center of the hall.
END