From that day on, Talia wandered the rear garden every chance she had. Yet even by the time a tall elm was planted where she had found the dying bird, and the once-wretched grounds blossomed with vivid color, she never ran into him again.
Talia was seized by a hollow sense of loss, as though she had misplaced a precious treasure stumbled upon by chance. If only she had ignored her nanny’s call…
Her father, who was supposed to visit, never came that evening, nor did her mother look for her.
Surrounded by cold, indifferent maids, Talia chewed through a flavorless dinner, her heart steeped entirely in regret.
She should have followed him. If she had been stubborn enough, he might have relented and taken her along. Whenever she lay curled under the chilled blankets, she yearned all the more for the broad, warm hand that had shielded her from the rain.
Perhaps he was nothing more than an illusion spun from her own loneliness. Just as Talia was beginning to succumb to that doubt, the boy appeared before her eyes once more.
No—it was more accurate to say that Talia discovered him.
The seasons had turned, carrying her from eight years of age to nine, and scorching heat now poured from the sky in place of rain.
Walking down the long corridor leading to the Emperor’s private chambers, Talia was startled by a booming shout and turned toward a broad arched window. In the wide courtyard bleached white under the summer sun, squire knights clad in black surcoats were swinging wooden practice swords.
Though there were nearly thirty trainees, Talia’s gaze was drawn naturally to him, like a moth to a flame.
His pale, flaxen hair caught the harsh glare, glimmering faintly silver. It was her first time seeing him without his hood, but she recognized him instantly. He was the boy from the early spring rain.
She leaned over the stone sill to get a closer look.
The blue-eyed boy moved with such clean, distinct precision that he stood entirely apart from the rest.
Every time his long, supple limbs struck out with fluid grace and power, she could almost hear the rush of air cleaved before him.
“That boy… do you know who he is?”
The elderly attendant escorting her to the Emperor spared only a disinterested glance out the window.
“They are squires training for the Imperial Guard. All of them sons of prominent noble houses.”
He cared nothing for which particular boy had caught her eye.
Seeing her linger, the attendant gave her an impatient look.
“His Majesty is waiting. Let us proceed.”
Reluctantly tearing herself from the window, Talia resumed walking down the corridor, which fell as silent as a crypt. It was her first audience with her biological father in several months since entering the Imperial Palace, yet she felt no thrill of anticipation.
Even long ago, when she had caught distant glimpses of the Emperor during his visits to the Taren estate, she had never once thought of him as a father.
The grim-faced man had shown almost no interest in her, and Talia had simply disliked the man who stole away her mother’s affection.
That sentiment had not changed in the slightest, even after her name was entered into the imperial genealogy.
Stepping into the vast, opulent room, Talia fixed a wary stare on the broad-shouldered silhouette standing against the light.
After a long silence, the man seated behind a desk massive as a rampart spoke, his eyes remaining fixed on a sheet of parchment.
“From this day forward, you will learn the etiquette of the Imperial Family.”
He pressed his signet seal into the wax on the page.
Talia waited for him to lift his head and look at her. But no matter how much time passed, his gaze never once shifted in her direction.
She could not fathom it. If this man loved Senevier as fiercely as everyone said, why could he not bring himself to look upon their daughter, who bore the exact same face?
Scratching the parchment with his quill, the man added indifferently,
“I have appointed several fine tutors for you. Come to the main palace before noon each day for your lessons. You must apply yourself to catch up on all that you have neglected.”
He seemed to expect no reply. With an offhand flick of his hand, he dismissed her, bringing their reunion after a full year to an end.
Trudging back along the corridor, Talia peered outside for the boy. But the training had already finished, leaving only the blinding white summer sun pooling over the vacant yard.
From that day on, every time she made her way to lessons, she stole glances down at him in the training grounds.
She liked watching the faint sheen of sweat settle on his pale, porcelain skin, and the light flush rising to his cheeks from the strenuous exertion.
At times, she would speak to him inside her head.
‘Hey… what happened to that bird? Did it end up dying? Did you bury it? Or did it get well enough to fly away?’
She wanted to look straight into his eyes and talk with him, just as they had that day in the rain. She wanted to see if those silver crowns were still etched within his irises.
It happened just as that urge was growing unbearably sharp.
Lost in watching the grounds and neglecting her history tutor, a heavy shadow suddenly fell across her back.
Talia spun around, startled. Her mother, who had not shown herself in a fortnight, stood poised at the border of light and shade.
Once, this was a face she saw every day. Yet for an instant, Talia felt her breath catch in her throat.
Adorned with every measure of refinement befitting an Empress, Senevier looked as though all the beauty humanity could conceive had been gathered into one person. Even the elven mages who had frequented the Taren house could never have held a candle to her.
“What has captured your attention so thoroughly?”
Senevier looked down at her daughter as she asked.
Snapping out of her daze, Talia pulled back from the window. For some reason, she felt reluctant to mention the boy.
Yet Senevier seemed to discern at once where her daughter’s gaze had fallen.
The Empress glanced out the window, a meaningful smile curving her lips as she looked down at the tall, fair-haired boy.
“That is the son of Grand Duke of Shearkan.”
Talia looked up in astonishment. She had figured he was of noble birth, but she had never imagined he belonged to such an illustrious house.
The Empress’s deep blue eyes glinted playfully, as though she were reading the girl’s very thoughts.
“Do you want him?”
Talia could find no answer, her face burning crimson.
Reading the silence, Senevier seemed to have found all the confirmation she needed. She gave an amused chuckle and leaned down to brush a kiss against her daughter’s cheek.
“If you wish, I can give him to you as a gift.”
The whisper carried a chilling edge, like wind whistling through a midnight wood. Straightening up, Senevier offered an immaculate smile with her crimson lips.
“Though nothing comes without a price. If you want a reward, you must first please your mother.”
Sensing the faint prickle of reprimand beneath those words, Talia snatched the history text she had tossed onto the sill and ran. Senevier’s gaze clung to the back of her neck like a cobweb.
This was the mother she had yearned for night after night. Why, then, was she fleeing from her?
She had meant to throw a tantrum the moment she saw her, complaining that she hated her studies. She had meant to pour out all the resentment she had harbored, demanding why her mother never stayed by her side.
Yet Senevier, now the reigning Empress, felt like a stranger. She had become something unfamiliar and terrifying, leaving Talia unable to demand so much as a scrap of affection.
That night, Talia tossed and turned until late, sleep refusing to come.
Life at the Taren estate had not been particularly happy either, but back then she had at least possessed an ally in Senevier. Her mother had been like a comrade-in-arms, a closest confidante. Even when the rest of the world pointed fingers at them, they could endure anything so long as they were together.
Now, however, Senevier stood untouchable as the Empress of the Empire, while Talia was marooned alone among strangers in an unfamiliar palace.
Loneliness seeped into her very bones. She desperately craved someone by her side—felt as though she would give up anything just to be held in warm arms and met by a gentle gaze.
That was what drove her. She resolved that she would go and meet the boy she had watched only from afar.
END