49
Was waking in the dead of night so unnatural that it should leave her this unnerved?
She drew in a breath, trying to steady her violent pulse, but the air felt thin and choking.
Unable to pull a full breath through her constricted throat, Talia finally forced herself upright, desperate to escape the smothering dark.
Her splinted leg flared with agony, but she was suffocating; pain was a secondary concern. Nearly tumbling out of the carriage, Talia stumbled forward into the night, mouth parted as she fought for air.
Ahead, a point of light wavered against the black. With a faint flutter of relief deep in her chest, she dragged her stiff, spasming leg toward a large pavilion tent where a campfire blazed.
Then a bright voice, dripping with derision, drifted past on the wind.
“It’s divine retribution.”
Talia froze.
A woman sat before the flames, poking the glowing embers with a long stick, talking without restraint.
“Everyone knows it. She cursed the First Princess. She even showed up uninvited to Her Highness’s birthday banquet and made a scene!”
The maid’s pitch climbed with self-righteous excitement.
Talia squinted at the face washed in firelight. It was unfamiliar; the woman was likely a servant under Ayla or Gareth.
The maid took a swallow from her cup, wet her lips, and resumed her lively prattle.
“The heavens clearly saw fit to punish her. The curse she cast rebounded straight back onto her own head, so she got what she deserved!”
“I heard she might end up crippled for good. Is that true?”
“Bound to be! One of the Second Princess’s own maids said the bone was crushed to splinters. Said they spent hours piecing the shards together like a broken pot.”
Talia flinched, her eyes dropping down to her bound leg.
The woman leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.
“They say the scar is grotesque. The flesh got mangled so badly that even healing magic couldn’t mend it smooth. Red, puckered, hideous all over.”
“Well, at least we won’t have to suffer that woman parading around the palace like she owns it anymore.”
“Indeed. That pretty face and frame were all she had! With a ruined body like that, how does she expect to put on airs?”
A chorus of mocking titters rippled through the circle, thoroughly entertained.
Talia, who had stood frozen in the dark, began dragging her leg toward the woman’s back.
Those across the fire who caught sight of her emerging shadow blanched. But the servant carrying on so merrily remained oblivious, still sneering into the flames.
“Her marriage prospects are finished, too. What noble house would want a bastard daughter who’s also a crip—agh!”
A sharp shriek tore from the woman’s throat as her hair was wrenched from behind.
Ignoring the wail, Talia hauled backward on the braided knot. As the maid craned her neck and saw who held her, the blood drained entirely from her face.
Looking down with dead, cold eyes, Talia let the corners of her mouth curl.
“Why stop? Keep talking.”
“Y-Your Highness…”
“What frightens you so much? I’m merely an illegitimate cripple, aren’t I?”
The woman’s eyes bulged in panic. Sobs shattered the lips that had been smirking only moments before.
“P-Please forgive me, Your Highness! I… I have committed a grievous offense…”
“And what offense would that be?”
“I-I…”
The woman’s chin quivered violently as she struggled to speak.
“I m-mocked the princess with my vile words. P-Please, have mercy and f-forgive me…”
“When you sin, you pay. Why do you look for mercy first?”
The maid had turned the color of damp ash.
Talia glared at that terrified, pallid face before slowly turning her gaze to the others gathered around the hearth.
The maids cowered like mice under the shadow of a viper, bowing their heads low. Catching sight of a guard standing stiffly among them, Talia gave a curt nod of her chin.
“You. Step forward.”
After a beat of hesitation, the knight walked over with reluctant steps.
Talia wrenched the hair down, forcing the weeping woman onto her knees before him.
“She insulted the Imperial Family with her loose tongue. She must pay the price. Draw your sword and do your duty.”
The knight’s shoulders snapped taut.
Choking gasps hitching in the maid’s throat filled the tense silence. Looking down at the scene, the knight pressed a fist to his chest and bowed deeply.
“Your Highness, we are already stretched thin preparing the dead and tending to the wounded. An execution now will only stir unnecessary unrest among the camp. I beg you to quell your anger and—”
“Are you defying my command?”
The knight pressed his lips into a tight line and lowered his head further.
A hollow laugh slipped from Talia at his mute refusal, her expression curdling into sudden fury.
“If you will not do it, I will.”
Talia threw the woman’s hair aside like garbage and lunged toward the knight. Caught off guard, the man reflexively caught her shoulders. Talia glared at him, eyes blazing.
“How dare you lay hands on my body!”
The knight snatched his hands away as if scorched. Talia seized the opening and caught the hilt of the sword belted at his hip.
Yet the knight’s longsword was far heavier than she had anticipated, and her shattered leg could not even bear her own weight. As she wrenched at the blade, her balance gave out, and she crashed onto the hard earth.
A sickening silence fell over her pathetic, sprawled form.
Clutching her throbbing, ruined limb, Talia forced her head up.
The rigid, silent faces of the knight and the maids stared back down at her.
An old memory dragged its claws across her mind: dozens of pairs of cold eyes looking down at her as she lay helpless in her own vomit. The acute disgrace of that day, and the raw panic behind it, flared up to set her senses ablaze.
With trembling hands, she dug her fingers into the dirt and shoved her torso upright. She wanted to rise to her feet and reclaim the authority of an imperial princess, but her leg refused to move.
As she struggled frantically to drag the unresponsive limb forward, Talia saw the maid standing a few paces away, staring blankly at her.
The woman who had just mocked her was watching her crawl on the ground.
She could not bear it.
Blindly sweeping her hand out, Talia seized a burning brand from the hearth. Blistering heat seared her skin, but physical pain could not touch the agony of her mangled pride.
She swung the flaming log across the woman’s face.
A grotesque shriek tore through the camp.
Not satisfied, Talia raised the smoldering branch again, but a dark shadow lunged from the night and seized her bodily.
Talia thrashed like a wild beast. Then, catching a familiar scent, she went completely still. Varkas, holding her pinned effortlessly with a single arm, looked down at her with frigid eyes.
As she gasped in his cold grip, he took the burning log from her hand and threw it far into the dark. Just as he had stripped her of the dagger before, he took her weapon once again.
A bitter resentment surged within her.
This man had never stood on her side.
He would not fight for her, yet he would never let her fight for herself.
END