“The Imperial Palace is simply that sort of place. Crawling with monsters who’d trade anything for power. If you’ve resolved to survive here, you’d better steel yourself.”
Theoric gave him a brief, heavy pat on the shoulder.
Edric, numb with disbelief, slowly raised his head to look at his superior.
“Does Lord Shearkan know this as well?”
“Of course. It was the Commander himself who ordered the inquiry.”
“Then why…?”
Edric’s voice faltered, unable to piece it together.
The older knight studied his face a moment, then gave a faint shrug.
“Who can guess what goes on in that head of his?”
· · ·
“Still, whether we grasp it or not, there must be a reason he’s compelled to take the Second Princess to wife.”
Edric frowned.
What reason could possibly justify this?
As he brooded, trying in vain to decipher the thoughts behind that impassive face, a heavy slap landed against his back.
Startled, Edric turned around.
Sir Hart, having struck him with a broad palm, spoke casually, as if brushing the gloom aside.
“In any case, set aside your concerns for the Second Princess.”
Then, his tone grew firmer.
“She’ll be leaving the palace before long. Once she does, your paths won’t cross again. Shake off that pointless unease and look to your own future.”
The tail end of his words carried the weight of a rebuke.
Theoric shook his head.
“You managed to earn the Crown Prince’s ire during the pilgrimage. You have plenty of fires on your own doorstep—why borrow trouble for someone else?”
Edric blanched.
His shoulders sank under the weight of his own precarious standing.
Seeing his posture crumple, Theoric let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
“Well, look at that. You ran so reckless, I took you for someone who cared nothing for worldly advancement. Guess I was mistaken.”
“That was… I only thought I had to carry out my duty as an imperial knight. Whatever else she was, I had been assigned as her guard.”
At the stubborn reply, a flicker of conflicting emotion crossed Sir Hart’s face.
He regarded his subordinate intently, then let out a slow breath.
“I’ll say it once more: that duty is finished. It’s time you returned to where you belong.”
Edric stared up into his superior’s unyielding face for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the palace walls rising sheer above the dense trees.
Between the deep green boughs, he could just make out the rooftop of the Separate Palace where the Second Princess resided.
He had served her for barely two months.
Had he not witnessed her being broken so brutally before his very eyes, she was someone he likely never would have spared a second thought for.
‘Sir Hart is right.’
His service to her was over.
Pitiable as the cruelty encircling her was, he had no power to change it.
‘Perhaps this is for the best.’
As Sir Hart had said, this palace was infested with monsters blinded by ambition.
Besides, was she not utterly despised here?
If she married Lord Shearkan and departed for the East, she would at least escape those who bore her open malice.
With a low sigh, Edric shook off the faint pang of guilt and nodded.
“I understand, sir.”
Appearing satisfied with the answer, Sir Hart offered a faint smile.
He threw an arm over the young knight’s shoulder and urged him forward.
“Good. Let’s get moving and attend to our duties.”
Half-dragged along, Edric looked back toward the roof of the Separate Palace one last time. Then he straightened his head and strode forward.
Talia lay on her bed, watching the dust motes drift.
The shimmering specks floated through the air, riding sluggish drafts, before settling softly across her body.
She lifted a hand, disturbing them back into the air, and watched them descend once more.
Why she was doing something so pointless, she could not say.
She felt like a strand of seaweed.
Aimless movements persisted, drifting like river reeds in a lazy current.
Could it be that her leg wasn’t the only thing broken—that something in her mind had cracked as well?
While she was steeped in these hollow thoughts, the door swung open and shut.
Talia shifted her gaze toward the disturbance.
Her nanny, clutching armfuls of fabric, stood glaring fiercely down at her.
“How can you still be lying there like that?!”
The shrill voice grated against her eardrums like a rasp.
Talia pulled the blanket over her head, but the nanny snatched it away, unleashing another torrent of scolding.
“Get up and wash this instant! You threw such a fit, screaming that no one was to lay a finger on you, that all the maids were driven out—and now you’re just lying here?!”
Talia narrowed her eyes at her.
The words made little sense. She felt as though she had been asleep this entire time; had someone actually come in?
Her unfocused eyes drifted across the room. Shattered porcelain and scattered belongings lay strewn across the floor. It seemed she really had made a scene.
“I said get up!”
The nanny hauled her limp body upright by force.
Heavy with sleep, Talia merely blinked at the woman’s flushed face.
Beside herself with frustration, the nanny thumped her own chest with a fist.
“Just how much of that herb did you burn while I was gone? You can barely walk as it is—how do you plan on walking into the wedding hall like this?!”
“Wedding hall?”
“The wedding ceremony, My Lady!”
“Who’s getting married?”
The nanny’s round face turned the color of a bruised plum. She looked so utterly incensed that it bordered on comical.
Her tongue felt loose and numb, and Talia let the words roll out heedlessly.
“Congratulations on your wedding, Nanny.”
“The one getting married today is you, My Lady!”
The nanny screeched like a goose with its neck wrung.
“You were the one who insisted on doing it, so why are you acting like this now?!”
Talia knit her brows.
Come to think of it, she had resolved to marry Varkas.
When had she said that?
She couldn’t tell. Her sense of time seemed to have dissolved into the smoke and vanished.
Blinking lazily, her expression vacant, Talia finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
So, today was the wedding.
If that was true, she supposed she couldn’t simply lie here.
She dragged herself behind the dressing screen.
“I will only assist with the bath and the undergarments. You must leave the rest to the maids from the Empress Palace.”
“…Fine.”
“And you are not to scratch or strike them under any circumstances.”
“Am I a cat? Why would I scratch them?”
The nanny pulled a sour face, as though she had swallowed something foul.
When Talia let out a weak giggle at the expression, the nanny sighed heavily and stripped the nightgown from her.
“Just hurry up and wash.”
Talia stepped down into the tub.
An instant later, a torrent of cold water cascaded over her head.
Talia rubbed her stinging eyes, shoving aside the wet hair plastered over her face.
The nanny was clearly frantic.
Emptying an entire bottle of scented oil over her, the nanny began scrubbing her down vigorously with a coarse brush. The treatment was far closer to scouring a hound than bathing a princess.
Yet Talia endured the handling without a word of protest. Her dulled senses barely felt the sting.
“Out you come.”
Having doused her head four times in rapid succession, the nanny hurried her out.
Talia climbed out of the water, dripping wet.
The nanny bundled her into a large towel to dry her, and in the span of a breath had her dressed in undergarments and a petticoat.
Today was the first time she had ever seen the woman, normally slower than a slug, move with such frantic speed.
While Talia watched in mild fascination, the nanny wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and hurried from the bedchamber to summon the attendants.
Before long, Talia was surrounded by what seemed like dozens of women.
No, it likely wasn’t that many. One figure blurred into two, two into three, and three into four; in truth, there were probably far fewer.
Still, through her hazy eyes, it looked like a crowd.
Dizzy, she blinked once, then let her lids fall shut.
After some time, the maids, having finished their preparations, led her somewhere. It felt as though she were being swept out to the open sea on a relentless tide.
When her senses returned, she was already sitting inside a large carriage, jolting along the road.
Talia looked out the window through unfocused eyes.
Underneath a sky the color of charcoal, the looming silhouette of the cathedral came into view.
The instant that blurred shape registered, an inexplicable dread seized her throat.
Drenched in cold sweat as the entrance of the cathedral loomed near, she reached for the door handle.
She was on the verge of kicking the door wide and throwing herself out when the carriage lurched to a sudden halt.
Talia stumbled from the jolt, tumbling onto the carriage floor.
Of all things, her bad knee struck the boards, sending a white-hot flare of pain shooting up into her hip. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle the groan.
Right then, the door swung open, and a heavy shadow fell across her.
Talia jerked her head up and caught her breath. Standing before her, looking as though he were cloaked in a veil of gray, was Varkas.
Clad in a stark white formal uniform, the mantle embroidered with his family crest draped loosely about his shoulders, Varkas leaned down toward her.
She could feel his cold blue eyes slowly tracing the lines of her face.
END