TFM 10

Chapter 10

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After the uproar, Talia had been confined to her private quarters.

But thanks to her maids, who never stopped gossiping, she learned that the boy who had assaulted her was the Crown Prince of the Empire and her half-brother, and that the dark-haired girl she had seen in the birch grove that day was her half-sister.........

She also learned that it had been less than six months since they had both lost their mothers.

This meant that she and Senevere had been welcomed into the imperial family only three weeks after the death of the former Empress Bernadette.

Senevere had even gone so far as to erase all traces of the former Empress upon entering the palace.

Perhaps the small garden behind the main palace was a vestige of Bernadette that her mother had failed to remove.

Talia looked out the window.

The summer rain was pouring down on the garden her mother had so carefully cultivated. The plants looked like horrible monsters in the dampness, smelling of thick grass.

She drew the curtains over the windows, and curled up on her bed, remembering the Crown Prince's hateful glare and her half-sister's face, white with terror, and the blue-eyed boy who had wrapped his arms around her protectively and glared at her................

"Varkas Raedgo Shiokan..................."

She looked up at the ceiling and mumbled his name in a daze.

When she finally learned the boy's name, she was not the least bit pleased, for she realized that he would never smile at her.

The former Empress Bernadette was from the Marquisate of Oristain, one of the most prestigious families of Osiria, but the empress’s mother was a noblewoman from the House of Shiokan. The late empress and Varkas were distantly related.

She even took care of him when he was brought into the palace at a young age and began a rigorous education. Perhaps he thought of Sevenere as his enemy.

'And me...................'

As she remembered the cold eyes staring back at her, for the first time, she resented being Senevere’s daughter, ashamed to even look like her, even though she had always been proud of it.

Talia didn't want to feel that way.

Why should she feel guilty when it was she who was beaten so horribly?

It was the Crown Prince who did the bad thing.

I really didn't know anything. What did I do wrong? I'm not bad, I didn't do anything wrong.

Talia kept repeating to herself. But those thoughts were all but forgotten when she was surrounded by the cold stares of the servants.

Talia understood perfectly well the meaning of their harsh touch.

The ice-cold baths, the rough scrubbing that left her skin raw, the insidious prying of her skin with tweezers every time they changed her clothes, the scalp-scratching combing, the serving of cold food at every meal, ............ were all their own form of punishment.

She knew she was hated. But she didn't care, because it was no different when she was with the Tarens.

Whenever she was feeling down, Senevere would wrap her arms around her and whisper in her ear that she was the product of true love and that she shouldn't care what anyone said.

Talia believed her, and she always tried to act like it. But now her mother wasn't there for her, and all she could hear around her was the former Empress. How kind and generous she was, and how much pain she had lived and died in.

Talia was visibly dispirited. Her head, which she had always held high, drooped down, her gaze naturally turned to the floor, and the servants, who sensed the change, became increasingly harsh. Even the fear of punishment seemed to fade away, as neither the Emperor nor Senevere paid much attention to their daughter.

To them, Talia was not an Imperial Princess in the first place. She was merely someone who broke empress Bernadette's heart, and evidence of a sordid affair.

Every time she passed through the corridors, Talia could hear them whispering about her. She felt like her head was going to explode. Every time she heard them criticize her, she felt resentful and angry.

But it also felt like the least she could do, given that so many people had suffered because of her birth. But their harassment had reached a point where she could no longer bear it.

She had been in the palace for two seasons. As Talia descended to the dining hall for breakfast, she was struck by a strange sense of unease.

As usual, many servants had come out to attend to her. The sight of them lining the walls gave her an ominous premonition that something was about to happen.

But contrary to her expectations, the servants were polite and there was an unusually large amount of food on the table. Talia stared down at the silver plates in mesmerized fascination.

A kitchen maid had brought her freshly baked bread and butter, golden brown instead of stale, and soon a roasted quail and a steaming hot stew were placed before her.

She had eaten nothing but terrible food day and night for the past few months. The sight of a hot stew full of meat and vegetables instead of a soup as cold and watery as rainwater brought tears of shame to her eyes.

Talia glanced around at the servants. Dozens of pairs of eyes were gauging her reaction.

Perhaps they no longer felt the need to punish her, and so were willing to forgive her presence and show her kindness.

Talia lifted her spoon. She scooped up the steaming hot soup and shoved it into her mouth. The flavors of butter, milk, and various vegetables, along with a gentle sweetness, flooded her mouth.

An intense hunger washed over her at the taste of the first hot meal she'd had in a long time. She forgot her dignity and gulped down the stew.

How long had she been moving her spoon? Suddenly, she felt a very strange taste. It was too strong a smell to be the meaty smell that the spices couldn't get rid of. She frowned and stared down at the stew.

Then she heard a giggle behind her.

Talia whipped her head around quickly. The maids were all staring down, their faces expressionless. But Talia could clearly see the corners of their mouths twitching. Suddenly, a shiver ran down her spine.

After a moment's hesitation, Talia stirred through the bowl with her spoon. As she skimmed off a large chunk of food, she saw what appeared to be a heavy chunk of meat sinking to the bottom of the bowl. No, no. It wasn't meat.

Scooping it up with a spoon, Talia froze in shock. A gray, bloated rat lay limp in the thick broth, its mouth open. Talia didn't even scream.

She rolled off her chair and vomited the stew onto the floor. She threw up more than she ate, but the retching didn't stop.

The foul odor in her nostrils grew stronger. The taste of dead rats stuck to the tip of her tongue and seemed to last forever.

She jabbed her fingers down her throat, scraped her tongue, and struggled to squeeze out the vomit that no longer came out.

As she lay there, vomiting, her vision blurred by tears, she saw a pair of feet moving around the table.

Talia lifted her head, dazed. The maid in charge of the kitchen was clearing away the dishes as if nothing had happened. Other servants bustled around the table, clearing away dishes and wiping down the table. As if they didn't even see her lying on top of the vomit..........

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