Chapter 41
The thick veins on the Crown Prince’s neck bulged with fury.
Edric moved closer to Talia’s side, sensing the prince might throw a punch at any moment. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who sensed the danger, as Barkas, who had been standing as silent as a shadow, stepped between the two.
“We are far behind schedule. Let us proceed with the ceremony.”
The Second Princess stiffened for a moment before turning her gaze toward Lord Siekan.
It was only a fleeting second, but Edric, his senses heightened, noticed the way her body went rigid. It seemed even this reckless woman knew when she had to back down—specifically, when Lord Siekan took that stern tone.
She pressed her lips thin and looked away. The Crown Prince, who looked ready to explode, also gritted his teeth and returned to his position before the altar.
Once the situation seemed settled, the head priest—who had been shrinking his neck like a turtle while gauging the mood—cleared his throat and resumed the ritual.
Standing a short distance away, Edric watched as the three members of the imperial family received their consecration prayers in turn.
The Crown Prince stepped forward first and bowed his head. The head priest lifted a silver chalice, pouring holy water over him while chanting blessings in an ancient tongue.
Next, the First Princess and her betrothed, Lord Siekan, approached the altar. Finally, Talia bowed before the priest.
Edric stared at Talia as she stood with her eyes downcast, looking at her as if she were a stranger.
As the light from hundreds of candles cast a mystical glow over her tawny gold hair and pale skin, she looked like a being from another dimension.
While he watched her in a daze, the priest poured the holy water over her head as well.
The clear stream of water soaked into her golden threads of hair, trickling down her smooth forehead, her cheeks, and the bridge of her straight nose before pooling at the tip of her chin.
The priest placed his hand upon her head and poured forth divine power.
“May the grace of God be with you for all eternity…”
The prayer, which felt as though it would never end, finally ceased.
As the priest rang a silver bell, the Crown Prince was the first to rise and stride through the congregation.
The First Princess and Lord Siekan followed him, and then Talia Roem Guirta slowly straightened her posture. With her chin held high and a queenly air, she began to walk through the crowd.
No one could take their eyes off her commanding presence.
An incarnation of discord. A sinister and ominous existence.
It was as if, in that moment, they had realized for the first time that the woman they had always regarded as such was, in fact, an Imperial Princess of the Empire.
Perhaps because the altitude had risen sharply, the air—which had been as hot as a bath—turned refreshing.
Inhaling the dry, cool air, Talia looked up at the sky through the carriage window as the sun began to set.
A deep blue night was rolling in from the east. Another day was ending without anything happening.
Her throat felt hot, as if she had swallowed a burning coal.
Talia opened the storage compartment tucked into the corner of the carriage and pulled out a small silver knife she had taken from the monastery. The pale, gleaming blade seemed to whisper to her that it was tired of waiting.
Tucking it into her pocket, she stepped out of the carriage. The bustling scene of the campsite immediately filled her vision.
She pulled the hood of her gown over her head and carefully scanned her surroundings. It seemed they were throwing a grand banquet to soothe Gares’s foul mood.
Servants moved more busily than ever between the tents, carrying wine and food, while some soldiers were already quite tipsy.
Talia toyed with the blade in her pocket and moistened her dry lips. She welcomed the noisy atmosphere. It would make things easier to handle. She moved cautiously across the campsite.
Just then, a knight of the guard spotted her and ran over, looking delighted.
“Your Highness!”
Talia furrowed her brows.
Why did this man keep wagging his tail at her so persistently? His inexplicably friendly attitude was beginning to feel unpleasant.
Talia glared at his harmless face—as if he truly had no ulterior motives—let out a loud, mocking snort, and brushed past him. Yet, the man was not deterred by her cold response.
“It must have been very stifling for you, wasn’t it? Come, this way. The servants are preparing food. If you watch the cooking process yourself, you’ll be able to eat with peace of mind, won’t you?”
Ignoring the knight’s incessant chattering, she walked toward the source of the music.
Before long, she found Gares enjoying a feast in front of a lavish tent where a fire had been lit.
She stopped at a distance. The Crown Prince’s attendants were trying their best to cheer him up as he sat there sullenly nursing a cup. While servants dressed as ridiculous clowns performed tricks with daggers, musicians played sultry tunes to his taste, and several maids flirted while pretending to serve him. As she watched the scene with a sneer, the knight blocked her path.
“It would be better if you went that way.”
Talia looked up at his serious face. He had worn this same expression while guarding her at the temple. As if he were actually trying to protect her from danger.
Talia snorted inwardly. As if I’d fall for that.
“Mind your own business.”
Snapping coldly, Talia turned and walked toward the tents lined up near the riverbank.
Gares hadn’t been her target to begin with. Talia scanned the area for Aila’s camp, trying to look as natural as possible. Soon, she spotted her half-sister enjoying a meal, surrounded by a swarm of ladies-in-waiting.
She fell into thought for a moment.
Aila was surrounded by knights. To them, she was a person of interest; if she tried to approach recklessly, she would be restrained immediately.
She bit her lip anxiously.
How could she get close to her half-sister without arousing suspicion?
As she agonized over this, the knight who had been talking nonstop suddenly went quiet.
Talia glanced up. The man was looking down at her with suspicious eyes. He seemed to find her unusual behavior questionable.
She sat down on a nearby table, feigning a calm expression. Then, to divert the knight’s attention, she blurted out:
“I’m hungry. Go get me something to eat.”
The knight’s face brightened instantly, as if he were glad to hear it. He was an absurdly simple man.
“Please wait just a moment! I’ll have it ready right away!”
Once the annoying watchdog was gone, Talia peered from beneath her low-slung hood and resumed watching Aila’s movements. Aila was laughing continuously at the jokes of her maids.
Can I really end that loathsome woman’s life?
Her mouth went bone-dry. She might be subdued by a knight who noticed something suspicious before she could even make a proper attempt. If that happened, it wouldn’t be dismissed as a mere prank.
Tinkering with the blade in her pocket, she pondered if this was truly worth risking her life for.
Even if Aila disappeared from this world, it wouldn’t mean she would get Barkas. He would continue living his life as always, and she would vanish like dew on the execution grounds. The only thing she could gain from this foolish act was a miserable death.
Even so…
Would watching Barkas become Aila’s husband really be better than death?
While Aila became the Grand Duchess of Siekan and bore his heirs, she herself would wither away in excruciating pain.
Perhaps she would be forced to marry a man Senevia chose. If that happened, she would eventually hang herself, unable to endure the touch of a foul and filthy man. No, that was exactly what would happen.
Whether she died this way or that, she was destined for death anyway. It might be better to end it cleanly today, taking Aila with her.
Finally, her resolve hardened, and Talia stood up. She was about to approach Aila as naturally as possible when a familiar figure caught her eye.
That woman is…
