TFM 26

Chapter 26

***

Gareth, observing his half-sister's profile with a suspicious gaze, suddenly grew irritated with himself for paying excessive attention to this insignificant creature's every move and turned his head away.

What did it matter what was inside that head? On the day he ascended the throne, she would be erased from this world forever. He just had to endure until then.

He gulped down the strong wine, drowning out the irritating presence of his sister.

***

Talia brought the wine to her lips, feigning boredom. Then she noticed her fingertips trembling faintly and immediately set the glass down. Striving to appear as natural as possible, she hid her hands beneath the table and moistened her parched lips.

The spot where she had touched Varkas burned like fire. Even though it wasn't bare skin that had touched. The sensation of his hard knuckles, felt through the cold leather gloves, seemed to seep deep into her skin.

She forced her shoulders back, wiping her sweat-dampened palms on her skirt. She felt the damp fabric cling to her skin.

A wave of frustration washed over her. The dress she'd chosen to provoke Gareth now felt like a noose tightening around her neck.

She clenched her fists, feeling the sting on her exposed shoulders and spine. Even though she knew perfectly well he couldn't be looking at her, her nerves were stretched painfully taut.

Talia desperately suppressed the urge to turn her head to see where he was looking. Years of acting allowed her to manage a semblance of composure, but she couldn't stop the sweat from slowly seeping through her skin.

Feeling the thin fabric cling to her skin like sticky liquid, Talia bit her lower lip hard. Choosing this outfit had been a truly stupid decision.

"Does the food not suit your taste?"

Talia flinched at the sudden voice. The young monk seated opposite was staring at her intently.

The abbot, was he? Talia shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"It is rather poor compared to the food at the imperial palace."

Her indifferent remark caused a faint grimace to cross the monk's face.

She abruptly turned her head away, signaling him to leave her be, and picked up a small piece of cake. If she pretended to eat something, he wouldn't bother her with pointless chatter. With that thought, she shoved the crumbly piece into her mouth and chewed mechanically. It felt like swallowing a sponge.

She swallowed her nausea and took a sip of wine. Then she frowned, noticing several monks staring at her persistently. Their sticky, clinging gazes felt more repulsive than the greasy food.

She abruptly stood up from her seat.

"What a disappointing banquet. I think I'll take my leave and get some sleep."

Gareth shot her an irritated look. Normally, she would have thrown a few more barbs to get under his skin, but the nausea threatening to rise in her throat made it impossible to stay put.

She quickly slipped out of the hall. Stepping into the open air, away from the stench of grease, alcohol, and burning candles, her churning stomach seemed to settle slightly.

Taking a deep breath, Talia brushed the damp sweat from her forehead and shuffled along the corridor.

She felt the cold night air brush down her spine. Hugging her arms, the fine hairs standing up on her forearms, she quickened her pace slightly.

Sometimes she couldn't understand why she was doing this. What was the point of displaying herself in the spotlight, stirring up trouble?

"The Crown Prince seems utterly unable to tolerate your existence. Sometimes it feels like he can't stand you even more than he can stand me."

Senevere’s voice, murmuring contentedly at some point, echoed faintly in her ears.

It must have been the day of the memorial service for the late Empress Bernadette.

When Gareth saw her being led into the hall by her mother's hand, he completely lost his mind.

Nobles who witnessed him screaming and choking the young princess's neck were horrified and tried to restrain him, but the Crown Prince wouldn't budge. Two knights rushed in and barely managed to pry him off.

Freed from his vicious grip, Talia crawled to her mother's feet and curled into a ball. Senevere then wrapped her arms around her protectively.

The momentary relief that made Talia feel like crying passed quickly. She could see a satisfied look flicker across Senevere’s face.

It must have started that day. That she began provoking Gareth at every opportunity.

Her reputation, already at rock bottom, plummeted further. But it didn't matter. The Crown Prince's reputation would suffer too, and that would make her mother happy.

A hollow laugh suddenly burst from her lungs. Even now, in this state, she found herself ridiculous, desperately clutching at straws for a shred of her mother’s affection.

Even if she dragged the Crown Prince's honor through the mud, Senevere would never love her.

Mother loved no one. Not the Emperor, and certainly not Asros, whom she cherished so dearly.

To Senevere, everything was merely a tool, a means to an end. Perhaps it was precisely because Talia understood this so well that she kept repeating these actions. If she couldn't prove her usefulness, she would truly become nothing to her...

"Your Highness."

Talia snapped out of her reverie at the sudden voice.

Turning her head, she saw a dark figure standing tall in the shadows of the corridor. Recognizing it as the priest who had persistently watched her from the banquet hall, Talia stiffened.

'Did he follow me?'

She cautiously scanned her surroundings. Not a soul was visible in the long corridor leading to the garden. The realization that he had silently followed her all the way to this secluded spot sent a chill down her spine.

"What do you want?"

Talia forced herself to sound dignified, struggling not to show her fear.

Fortunately, her bluff seemed to work; she sensed the priest falter. She shot him a fierce glare, hoping he would simply turn and flee.

"I asked what business you have."

"It's about... what you said earlier..."

The priest stammered out.

She frowned.

"What did I say?"

"Well, it's just... earlier at the banquet hall..."

The man, who had been squirming disgustingly, flushed bright red across his freckled face and shot her sidelong, suggestive glances.

Talia tensed her legs to keep from backing away. If she showed weakness, he would only press harder. She lifted her chin haughtily.

"I can't make heads or tails of what you're saying. Unless you have some special business, I'll be taking my leave."

"You... said you wanted to live up to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince's expectations... didn't you?"

The man blurted out urgently.

Talia, who had been turning toward the garden, faltered and looked back at him. Could it be... had he heard Gareth's warning not to toy with the priests and followed her after hearing her provocative words?

As if suddenly doused with cold water, a chill ran down her spine.