Ch#57
Asros, wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve, bounded up the stone steps in a single breath and pulled on the firmly shut doorknob. Through the gap in the opening door, the interior of the Great Hall was revealed, as silent as the grave.
Looking around the gloomy space, where neither a guard nor a single maid could be seen, Asros moved with stealthy steps up the stairs.
He didn’t know why he was stifling the sound of his footsteps.
He had felt it the last time he visited, but this castle felt exactly like a mausoleum. The eerie atmosphere made him hold his breath instinctively.
Glancing at the curtained windows, Asros skipped two steps at a time, reaching the third floor in an instant.
Finally, the door to his sister’s bedroom came into view.
Stopping before the large mahogany door to catch his breath, Asros soon knocked cautiously.
However, even after waiting for a long time, there was no question of who it was or an invitation to enter.
‘Is she asleep, perhaps?’
Pressing his ear to the door, Asros knocked a little harder this time. Then, a heavy thud echoed from within.
After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the handle and peered inside.
Hazy smoke shimmered within the disheveled bedroom.
Coughing at the stale air, Asros suddenly widened his eyes. A scene lay before him as if a Great Storm had swept through the room.
Blinking with his mouth agape, he stepped into the wreckage as if drawn by something.
Shattered glass fragments were scattered across the bedroom floor.
As if a wine bottle had been hurled, the carpet reeked of dark wine, and atop it lay long strips of torn cloth and feathers that seemed to have escaped from a pillow, strewn about in a mess.
Scanning the room with hollow eyes, Asros suddenly spotted the shattered full-length mirror and flinched, pulling his shoulders in.
His own reflection, fractured into dozens of pieces, stared back from the cobweb-like cracks on the mirror’s surface.
Feeling a chill, he began to step back tentatively when he heard a rustling sound from behind.
Whirling around with a start, Asros froze as he discovered Thalia sprawled haphazardly on the carpet.
For a moment, his breath hitched.
Wearing only a thin nightgown, she was staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. The sight of her face, looking as though all life had been drained from it, sent a shiver down his spine.
Moving her arms, which were as thin as birch branches, she grabbed a handful of feathers rolling on the floor and scattered them into the air.
The snow-white feathers floated like dust in the hazy air.
The woman, who had been staring blankly at the sight with unfocused eyes, slowly moved her gaze to look at him.
Asros instinctively took a step back.
She parted her lips, where dried scabs clung, and let out a dry, rasping voice.
“…Have you come to spectate?”
“I—I just came to… visit you because you’re ill…”
Her desolate eyes fixed on the large bouquet of flowers cradled in his arms.
Asros felt his ears grow hot. For some reason, he felt as though he were doing something cruel to her.
Thalia lowered her eyelids like an exhausted person.
“…Leave it there and get out.”
Hesitating, Asros placed the bouquet on the shelf next to the bed.
He didn’t know what else he should do.
Looking at his sister with helpless eyes, Asros soon left the room.
Berens, who was waiting in the hallway, furrowed his brows at the sight of Asros’s pale face. He looked suspicious, as if wondering if some harm had come to the prince.
Without explaining anything, Asros grabbed his hand and pulled.
“Let’s go back to the Main Palace. Quickly.”
Then he ran down the hallway, which was as silent as a tomb.
He didn’t even know what he was running from. He simply wanted to leave this strangely cold and damp place as soon as possible.
Glancing back once over his shoulder at the half-open bedroom door, Asros hurried down the stairs. Then, like a beast escaping a trap, he fled the Separate Palace in a single dash.
It felt as if an ant were crawling through her veins.
A stinging pain pricked her nerves, traveling up her shins to her knees and thighs, then gnawing at her pelvis and waist.
It wasn’t as intense a pain as before, but it was just as irritating.
Thalia dug her nails in and obsessively scratched at her lumpy knees. Then, as if the ant crawling under her skin were rebelling, it began to burrow into her bones.
Thalia peeled away the skin, which was as tough as bark, to drag out the loathsome vermin.
Blood flowed steadily from the open wound. Heeding not the burning pain, she was gouging at the raw red flesh with her nails when her Nanny, entering the room just then, let out a shrill scream at the sight.
“I told you, please don’t do that!”
The Nanny set the tray down as if throwing it and grabbed Thalia’s hand.
Thalia looked at her with listless eyes before placing her other hand over the scar.
“Really, why are you being like this!”
The Nanny, now holding both hands, let out a deep sigh.
“What will you do if the scar, which is already unsightly, gets even worse?”
Thalia stared at her with dull eyes.
This was the Nanny who used to praise her beauty until her mouth was dry. How devoted she had been, saying Thalia looked like a perfect recreation of Senebier’s childhood.
It seemed that even in the Nanny’s eyes, her current appearance looked hideous.
Wrenching her wrists away with force, Thalia pushed the Nanny’s shoulder.
“Get out! I can’t stand the sight of you!”
The Nanny, glaring at her with sharp eyes, stomped over to the shelf. She picked up a bowl of porridge and a medicine bottle from the tray and thrust them forward.
“Just eat this, and I’ll leave even if you try to stop me, so don’t worry.”
Thalia reached out to hurl the bowl.
However, it seemed even the dullest Nanny would gain some intuition after enduring the same thing several times.
Quickly stepping back, the Nanny sent her a stern look.
“If you don’t eat, I won’t burn the sleep-grass for you.”
Thalia, glaring at her with eyes full of resentment, eventually took the bowl. She no longer had the energy left to squabble.
She picked up the spoon and mechanically shoved the mushy food into her mouth. It felt exactly like eating mud.
Suppressing her nausea, she forced down the porridge and even swallowed the unidentified medicine; only then did the Nanny push a new bundle of herbs into the censer and light it.
Thalia sprawled onto the bed, breathing in the acrid smoke.
As her consciousness grew hazy, drowsiness washed over her. Letting out a sigh of relief at her fading senses, she turned her gaze toward the window. Beyond the transparent glass, the evening sky was being dyed crimson.
Once the sun set, a thick darkness would soon fall over her. Even in her dazed state, a sense of dread crept in.
She was afraid of the night coming. The memory of waiting endlessly for someone in the darkness seemed to choke her.
But she feared the coming of morning even more. She didn’t want to live another day in such a wretched body.
She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a desperate prayer.
Please, let all the time granted to her flow away at once while she slept.
So that she could be liberated from this agony forever.
But, as always, her wish was not granted.
Woken by a hand shaking her shoulder, Thalia looked up at the window where sunlight was pouring in and let out a hollow sigh.
In the end, another loathsome day was about to begin. She clutched her throbbing forehead.
Just then, an unfamiliar voice reached her ears.
“You must get up now, Your Highness.”
Startled, Thalia turned her head and, discovering a dark shadow looming beside the bed, bolted upright.
A woman, exceptionally tall and of sturdy build, was looking down at her with eyes the color of steel.
The woman bowed elegantly with disciplined movements and spoke.
“Please generously forgive the rudeness of bursting into your bedroom without permission, Your Highness. I am Trania Meldren, the head maid in charge of the Empress Palace. I have come to attend to Your Highness for the day, by order of Her Majesty the Empress.”
With a confused expression, Thalia’s eyes darted around as she slowly surveyed the room.
In a corner of the bedroom, which had been cleaned at some point, stood about a dozen maids dressed in gowns bearing the seal of the Empress Palace.
Seeing the armfuls of clothing held in their hands, Thalia froze stiffly.
Her throat tightened with an ominous premonition.
“Attend to me… Why me…?”
“Today, Your Highness will be granted an audience with His Majesty the Emperor.”
