59
“It seems the court mages have bought another magical beast.”
The head maid, trailing silently behind her, sighed as she spoke.
Talia moved toward it, drawn by some inexplicable pull. As she drew near, the beast, shrouded in pitch-black wings, raised its head.
Talia flinched, her shoulders hunching instinctively.
Resting upon the body of an enormous, dark-feathered bird was the head of a human woman. Yet it looked less like the face of the living than a patchwork sewn from the dead.
As she stared down at the pallid skin, beneath which blue veins ran thick and stark, a foul, oily voice slid into her ears like the smell of rotten meat.
“Feel a sense of kinship?”
Talia snapped her head around.
Gareth stood directly behind her in a red doublet.
A sneer hung on his lips as he drawled on.
“A woman’s face on a monster’s carcass… Doesn’t it remind you of someone?”
His eyes narrowed, crawling down her frame until they settled on the legs hidden beneath the heavy folds of her gown.
Her half-brother’s smile broadened.
“I hear you’ve been left with a truly hideous scar. At least you have the good fortune to hide yours away, unlike that brute.”
Bitter bile surged up into the back of her throat.
Talia wheeled on him and struck the exalted Crown Prince full across the face.
Beside her came a squeal like a slaughtered sow. It was likely the head maid, dogging her steps like a jailer, choking on her own breath in horror. Talia caught a fleeting glimpse of the woman stumbling backward.
Paying her no heed, Talia dragged her nails—still bruised beneath the beds—down her brother’s bronze-skinned cheek.
Four bright red trenches opened from beneath his eye down to his jawline. Yet they were not nearly deep enough to satisfy her.
She lunged again, but the guards rushed in and seized both her arms.
Talia thrashed like an animal in a snare, but their grip did not yield.
Tears of sheer helplessness sprang to her eyes. She glared through bloodshot vision at her half-brother.
He had a broad frame, an unblemished body.
No. He was flawless no longer.
Talia broke into shrill laughter as crimson trickled down his cheek.
“Go on, say it again. I will tear that face of yours until you can never smile again. I have nothing left to lose. And that means I fear nothing.”
Gareth, who had been gaping at her while clutching his torn cheek, twisted his features into a vicious grimace.
A heartbeat later, a brutal hand seized her by the hair.
He took the elaborate braids that had taken hours to coil and wrenched them back with enough force to snap her neck.
“How dare you… How dare a creature like you lay a hand on my face?”
His blood-smeared face flushed a grotesque crimson with pure fury.
Talia only cackled louder.
She could see every shred of reason slipping from his gaze.
He clamped his other hand around her face, bearing down as if to shatter her skull between his palms. Even under the agonizing pressure that threatened to split her head apart, Talia did not stop laughing.
Then, a sudden, overpowering grip intervened, ripping Gareth away from her.
Talia dropped to the stone floor. As the crushing vise vanished, the blur before her eyes cleared, etching a familiar silhouette into her sight.
She blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, then scrambled to sit upright. The blood hammering in her chest felt loud enough to rupture her eardrums.
Her trembling hands hastened to smooth her skirts down over her feet when a low, restrained voice came from above.
“Ha, of course. I wondered when you would show your face.”
Gareth wrenched his wrist from the iron grip, teeth grinding audibly. His dark green eyes burned pitch-black with wrath.
“Are you really going to betray us for that girl?”
“…His Majesty the Emperor has commanded me to bring the Second Princess to his presence.”
“Always with the miserable excuses—!”
“I will give you your answer once I have concluded my audience with His Majesty.”
At Varkas’s measured words, Gareth’s blood-streaked face warped in sheer fury.
A harsh, grating sound rose from his locked jaw.
Grinding his teeth as though he might shatter them, Gareth took the future Grand Duke by the shoulder and snarled.
“Fine. I look forward to hearing what kind of answer you have for me.”
With that, he shoved his way through the stunned onlookers and stormed out into the corridor.
Varkas watched his retreating form for a moment before turning his gaze down to her.
A cold prickle swept across Talia’s skin, setting the fine hairs on her neck on end.
Mirrored in those bottomless eyes—which had always made her feel utterly insignificant—was her own wretched, broken state. The weight of his gaze felt sharp enough to carve her to pieces.
Talia planted her shaking palms on the flagstones. Gathering what strength she had left in her trembling legs, she tried to force herself up, only for a steady hand to slip beneath her back.
Startled, she recoiled from his chest as he drew near.
“D-don’t…!”
Yet her frail resistance was swept aside without effort.
Varkas slipped an arm under her knees and lifted her into the air.
Choking down a scream, Talia clutched frantically at her dress, terrified that her legs might be exposed. Even after she saw that the heavy skirts still covered her down to the tips of her shoes, the dread would not loosen its grip.
Fingers white-knuckled in the hem of her skirts, she squeezed out a thin, trembling voice.
“I… I can walk. Put me down.”
Varkas gave no answer.
Talia swallowed dryly. His silence felt like a noose tightening around her neck.
“I told you to put me down!”
As her voice rose, she felt the arms cradling her tighten ever so slightly.
Talia looked up at him, and seeing the dark restraint held behind his expression, her voice failed her.
Keeping his eyes cast straight ahead, Varkas spoke in a low, heavy rasp.
“You cannot wish to draw any more eyes than you already have. Bear with me for a moment, and you will spare yourself the humiliation of stumbling before them all.”
Staring blankly at the line of his jaw, Talia finally turned her head to look at the corridor around them.
Dozens of wide, appalled eyes were fixed upon her.
She tucked her chin against her chest to hide from their sight. A faint breath of a sigh brushed the crown of her head. Talia bit her lip until it bled, fighting back the humiliating urge to weep.
“Bear with it a little longer.”
He murmured the words so low only she could hear, quickening his stride.
Soon, the grand double doors of the audience chamber rose before them.
The chamberlain on guard stood slack-jawed at the sight of Varkas carrying the Second Princess in his arms.
Ignoring the man’s astonishment, Varkas merely inclined his chin.
“I have come at His Majesty’s summons. Open.”
The chamberlain scrambled to heave the heavy doors apart, revealing the vast, radiant expanse of the hall and the gold throne at its heart.
Talia looked toward the seat of honor.
A man of massive stature, carved like a monolith of pure dominion, looked down over a sheet of parchment with an indifferent, weary gaze.
Senevier, who had been murmuring something beside him, inclined her head to look upon them. An immaculate, graceful smile spread across her luminous, pale face.
“You are finally here.”
Only then did the Emperor’s gaze settle upon her.
Talia wetted her dry lips. She felt his heavy, dispassionate eyes drag down the whole length of her body. Unable to stomach the disgrace any longer, Talia began to twist in Varkas’s hold.
“Put me down. Right now.”
Varkas ignored her plea, marching straight toward the dais.
She looked up into his face in confusion. She could not fathom what had driven this man to act so rashly.
Could he, Ayla’s betrothed, truly afford to brazen this out before the Emperor’s very eyes?
As she turned her anxious eyes back toward the throne, a stern voice fell from the dais like a gavel.
“I was told there was nothing wrong with your ability to walk…”
Talia’s shoulders drew tight, an instinctive excuse tumbling from her tongue.
“I merely stumbled on the way, and Lord Shearkan was kind enough to assist me.”
She pushed hard against his broad chest, and Varkas, who had stood unyielding as granite, finally lowered her to the marble floor.
END