TFM 66

Chapter 66

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“You’ve been burning scented candles again, haven’t you?”

Varkas, who had been staring intently into her dazed eyes, spoke in a reproachful tone.

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

I only used the medicine because it hurt.

I haven’t done anything wrong, so I don’t know why I feel like I’ve done something deserving of a scolding.

As she looked down to avoid his gaze, a dry sigh tickled her forehead.

“...Maybe it’s for the best, after all.”

Varkas muttered bitterly, then knelt on the floor and wrapped one arm around her back.

Talia looked up with a bewildered expression at the sharp jawline right in front of her.

He slipped his other arm under her legs and slowly helped her to her feet.

Talia reflexively clutched the hem of her skirt. A chill ran down her spine at the thought that her dress might ride up.

“I—I can walk on my own.”

“You just stay here and let the medicine take effect.”

“Stay in the carriage,” Varkas said dryly as he stepped down.

“It’ll make it easier for you to get through today.”

Talia shrank her shoulders, sensing the sarcasm in his voice. To him, today seemed like a day she simply had to endure. Just as she hung her head in dejection, a strange voice reached her from nearby.

“Commander, His Majesty seems to be running a little late.”

Talia flinched and burrowed deeper into his embrace.

Varkas opened his coat to cover her, then gave a curt order to the man who had spoken to him.

“Go to the Grand Chancellor and relay that message.”

Then he strode toward the marble archway.

Talia unconsciously clutched his shirt tightly. Through the hem of his thin, mint-scented coat, she could see a sky thick with clouds.

A gloomy gray light, as if foreshadowing her own dark future, cast a sinister glow over the faces of the saints carved into the stone walls and columns.

As those faces drew closer, the fear pooled in her stomach crawled up her throat.

She opened her mouth impulsively.

“The weather is so gloomy today.”

His blue eyes, flecked with silver, dropped down to her forehead.

Avoiding his gaze, she stammered out,

“No one gets married on a day like this.”

So, I guess we should just call it off. Just as she was about to say that, his lips parted.

“Then, we’ll be the first.”

At his soothing voice, Talia swallowed the words that had risen to her throat.

He was a man well-accustomed to her whims. It was just a remark he’d made to placate her.

She tried to talk herself down, but her heart, devoid of any pride, raced wildly on its own.

She bowed her head deeply to hide her flushed face.

Soon, the massive mouth of the Great Cathedral swallowed them whole. Cold, heavy air pressed down on her body, wrapped in a thin dress.

Talia hunched her back and peered outside through the folds of Varkas’s cloak. She saw hundreds of people filling the colonnade. Her mouth went dry at the sight of so many guests—far more than she had expected.

They couldn’t possibly have gathered to celebrate this marriage.

They must have all attended reluctantly, just to avoid drawing Senevere’s ire.

Or perhaps they’d come to gawk at the state the illegitimate princess had fallen into.

She lowered her gaze to check that her legs were well hidden beneath her dress. Even after confirming several times that the flowing fabric covered her down to her toes, her anxiety wouldn’t subside.

With hands damp with cold sweat, she gripped the hem of her skirt and pulled it down, scanning the audience to see if anyone was stealing a peek at her legs. Then she saw hundreds of pairs of eyes staring wide open.

Just as she stiffened, wondering if her appearance was truly that dreadful, a dark-colored cloak blocked her view.

“It seems we must wait until His Majesty arrives.”

It was an unusually soft voice.

As he passed through the intersection and turned toward the relatively quiet side aisle, he added,

“Please try to get some rest until then.”

Talia looked up at the tip of his chin with a dazed expression.

Today, he’s saying a lot of strange things. Where in the world is there a bride who sleeps at her own wedding?

Just as she was about to say that, a vaguely familiar voice came from behind her.

“Lord Shiokan.”

Talia glanced over his shoulder. The knight who had been following Varkas like a shadow was running toward them.

“The Marquis of Oristein is looking for you. He wishes to speak with you briefly before the ceremony begins.”

The Marquis of Oristein was Gareth and Ayla’s maternal grandfather. Why on earth had he come to the ceremony?

As she looked up with a flustered expression, she noticed his face had stiffened slightly. After a moment of silence, as if deep in thought, Varkas set her down on the choir bench. Then, he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, saying,

“Please wait here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Talia reached out to grab him but quickly withdrew her hand.

He had only been forced to take her in by the Emperor’s command. She had to get used to being pushed aside.

“Keep an eye on her.”

Varkas spoke as if giving instructions to a knight, then glided out of the hall with an elegant stride.

Talia watched his retreating figure and bit her lip anxiously.

The Marquis of Oristein had undoubtedly come to stop this marriage. What words would he use to persuade Varkas?

Lost in such thoughts, she suddenly felt a piercing gaze on her cheek.

Talia whipped her head around and froze upon catching sight of a pair of dark brown eyes staring intently down at her.

The knight, who had been watching her with a strange look, flinched and turned away. A cold sweat broke out on her back.

Why had he looked at her like that?

Could it be that there was a problem not just with her leg, but with some other part of her appearance as well?

She looked down at her body, encased in a flowing dress. She wondered if the outline of her twisted leg might be visible through the fabric.

“Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

The knight cleared his throat and asked in an awkward voice.

Hiding her anxiety, Talia spoke in a deliberately haughty tone.

“I… don’t need anything.”

But her tongue, loosened by the medicine, wouldn’t obey her will.

She moistened her parched lips and scanned her surroundings with a quick glance.

Besides the knight standing guard beside her, priests and attendants who appeared to be waiting for the ceremony were lined up along the side walls.

Not only they, but even those gathered at the intersection were glancing at her. Those sticky stares got under her skin.

She bit her lip. She wanted to scream, “What are you all staring at?”

Senevere’s voice echoed in her ears: that the ugly are mocked and trampled upon for no reason.

She wanted to storm out of the banquet hall right then and there. But if she did that, she would end up falling flat on her face in front of everyone. A torrent of mocking laughter would pour down upon her.

Bastard.

Cripple.

The worst bride.

“Your Highness, you don’t look well. Shall I summon a priest?”

The knight approached her with a worried expression.

Talia shook her head.

“It’s fine.”

 “You should at least receive a simple healing spell...”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I said it’s fine.”

When she snapped at him irritably, the man who had been pestering her clamped his mouth shut. But he didn’t withdraw that strange gaze.

Slowly, this man’s presence was becoming unbearably irritating. Every single one of his clinging glances was dreadful.

She stared anxiously at the spot where Varkas had left.

'When on earth is he coming back?'

What on earth could they be talking about that’s taking so long?

Suddenly, Ayla’s voice—warning that she would come to regret this—echoed in her mind. Perhaps that woman had incited her maternal grandfather to play some kind of trick.

Yes. That’s definitely it. A marriage between Varkas and me? It was nonsense from the very beginning.

Could it be that all of this was just a charade designed to humiliate her from the start?

Varkas must have already slipped out of the ceremony hall. And she, a bastard and a cripple to boot, would end up as a pitiful bride abandoned at the venue.

“I’m going back.”

The knight shot her a bewildered look at her sudden outburst.

Talia yanked off the coat Varkas had draped over her, flung it to the floor, and staggered to her feet. Then, avoiding the loathsome stares directed at her, she set off toward a small side door at the end of the hall.

The knight, who had been watching her with a bewildered expression, hurriedly stepped in front of her.

“Where are you going? The ceremony is about to begin…”

“Get out of my way!”

She reached out to push the man aside. But there was no way a knight clad in armor would be pushed aside by her feeble strength.

She shot him a hostile glare.

“Can’t you hear me? Get out of the way!”

She reached out to push him again, but her legs gave way and her body lurched to one side. Talia reflexively grabbed his arm.

She could feel the knight’s body stiffen. She was just as horrified as he was.

The thought of him touching her was terrifying. His massive frame, which she was powerless to move, sent shivers down her spine.

The only one she could bear to be touched by was Varkas. But he had left her behind at the banquet hall. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes.

“Let go of me!”

She violently shook off the hand that had wrapped around her shoulder as if to support her, but suddenly her body was lifted off the ground.

Talia turned around in shock. She saw Varkas’s cold eyes.

He stared at her face as if he were about to explode with anger, then turned his gaze toward his subordinate.

The knight bowed his head, his face flushed crimson. Varkas stared silently at him for a long moment, then turned, his arm still wrapped around her waist.

“All the guests have arrived. The ceremony is about to begin.”

The icy voice rang out clearly from above her head.

“It’s too late to turn back now.”