Translator: Nox
Chapter 39
Barkas, arriving at the carriage in an instant, practically threw her onto the seat.
Talia rubbed her throbbing backside and glared at him with eyes full of resentment. Then, she froze upon seeing his face, which was hardened into a terrifying scowl. Barkas, looking down at her with an expression that suggested his patience had reached its limit, spoke through gritted teeth.
“Did I not warn you to stop causing troublesome scenes?”
After a momentary flinch, Talia shot back a defiant look.
“Why should I listen to anything you say? Who do you think you are!”
“I am certainly someone more significant than a Princess in name only.”
A cold, mocking sneer curled Barkas’s lips.
Surging with anger, Talia bolted upright. She felt she couldn’t possibly endure another second without slapping that arrogant face.
But Barkas was faster. Leaning over her and pinning her arms to block her movement, he looked down at her with clinical, dry eyes. His gaze, devoid of any pity, swept over her burst blood vessels on her cheek and the nape of her neck, which was surely turning black and blue.
A weary sigh escaped his lips.
“Do you truly act out like this because you are ignorant? No one here will lift a finger to protect you. If His Highness the Crown Prince makes up his mind, no one can guarantee your life.”
“Why do you care?”
Talia shrieked sharply.
“Aren’t you the one who would be most relieved if I disappeared from this world?”
“I cannot deny that.”
Even though it was the answer she expected, Talia felt a pain in her heart as if it were bleeding.
He continued with a cruelty that was chillingly calm.
“However, I cannot allow the Crown Prince’s position to be jeopardized because of you. So, if you wish to self-destruct, please do it with your own hands.”
Talia forced strength into her eyes as they began to burn with tears.
He slowly straightened his posture. The sharp edge on his face was already replaced by the rigid mask of a knight. He added in a businesslike tone, “I will send for a healer first. Tend to your body and then take some rest.”
Talia’s only response was to snatch a stray goblet from the floor and hurl it. The silver goblet struck his chest before clattering to the ground. Barkas cast her a look of utter disgust and turned to leave the carriage.
Talia slammed the door shut and bolted it. The tears she had desperately held back finally spilled down her cheeks. She hurriedly covered her mouth, terrified that a sob might leak out. The weeping caught in her throat choked her. She felt as though she wanted to suffocate right then and there.
At the summit of Ulgram Hill stood only the White Temple, lonely and grand, said to have been built by the Emperor Darian to commemorate Osiria’s independence.
The pilgrims halted before it, looking up at the magnificent, snow-white structure with eyes full of awe.
Despite the passage of many years, the temple was preserved almost perfectly.
They fell into a religious trance as they scanned the prayers engraved on the walls and the statues of various heroes. The Crown Prince, however, seemed to feel no inspiration from the relics left by his ancestor.
Leaping down from his saddle, Gares scanned the arched entrance with a bored gaze and asked, “Is this the second holy site?”
“It is, Your Highness,” one of the attendants replied in a strained voice.
The servants, well aware that his mood had been bottoming out since the previous day, were all shrinking back and watching the Crown Prince’s every move. Only Barkas maintained his usual composed demeanor.
“I am told there are no resident priests here. We shall prepare the ritual ourselves,” Barkas said, stepping up beside the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince glared at him with eyes harboring a strange hostility before abruptly turning away.
“Then stop dawdling and get on with it.”
As soon as his command was given, the attendants parked the carriages near the temple and began unloading the luggage. The attendants of the First and Second Princesses, who arrived late, joined them.
While the soldiers swiftly erected tents, the servants took out censers, the Holy Plate, silver pitchers, and candlesticks from the crates and began polishing them until they shone. Once the general preparations were finished, the maids immediately began assisting the Crown Prince and the First Princess with their grooming.
Watching the scene from a short distance away, Edric approached the carriage where Talia was holed up. If she was to participate in the ritual, he had to suggest she begin her preparations soon. Yet, strangely, the words wouldn’t come.
He stared at the firmly closed door and scratched the back of his head somewhat roughly. The image of the Second Princess he had seen the previous evening made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
Edric, who had raised his arm to knock, let it drop weakly and looked toward the Crown Prince’s tent set up nearby.
While the servants hauled out a large tub in front of the tent, filled it with water, and lit a fire, the Crown Prince sat leaning back in a chair, leisurely sipping wine. That nonchalant sight left a bitter taste in Edric’s mouth.
‘He beat his own sister to that state, yet he doesn’t seem to feel a shred of guilt.’
He had heard rumors that the Crown Prince laid hands on the Second Princess, but he hadn’t imagined it was to that extent.
He clenched his fists as he recalled the sight of the woman with a frame no larger than a handful being struck in the face and struggling while being strangled by a man the size of a mountain. It was fortunate that Lord Siekan had been nearby; otherwise, a horrific tragedy might have occurred.
Edric looked down at his palms, slick with cold sweat, and finally turned away.
In any case, Talia Roem Guirta would surely insist on not participating in the ritual. There was no need to waste his energy.
Just as he was about to swallow a heavy sigh and head toward the temple, he heard a rattling sound behind him.
“Hey, you.”
Startled, Edric turned his head and widened his eyes to find Talia standing at the carriage entrance with her arms crossed. Looking as if nothing had happened, the woman stepped down from the carriage with her usual arrogant expression and gestured with her chin.
“Fetch the maids.”
“……Pardon?”
The woman shot an annoyed look at him as he stood there blinking blankly.
“Not only are you ugly and dim-witted, but are you deaf as well? I’m going to dress, so fetch the maids this instant!”
Edric, momentarily stunned by the verbal abuse—the likes of which he had never heard before—soon turned and gathered the personal servants the Empress had assigned to her.
For some reason, a sigh of relief escaped him at the sight of Talia lashing out with such vigor. Though the healer had mended her wounds perfectly the previous night, he had worried she might be bedridden after suffering such an ordeal on a near-empty stomach.
‘Fortunately, she seems fine.’
Then again, she was a woman who had mocked the Crown Prince without a hint of intimidation even after narrowly escaping death. She wasn’t the type to have her spirit broken so easily.
Letting out a hollow laugh, Edric immediately instructed the servants to fetch water and ordered his subordinates to tidy their uniforms. Since the Second Princess had finally decided to participate in the imperial tradition, he intended to escort her properly as a knight of the guard.
