TFM 87

Chapter 87

***

She gazed at the pile of clothes before her, then lowered her eyes to her legs, which were wrapped in the hem of her skirt.

She had just woken up early that morning, had her nanny help her bathe, and had a healer come to reapply her bandages. There was no way she would let them see her scars.

Talia bit her lip, then nodded.

“Do as you see fit.”

At her permission, the maids set up a screen in the middle of the room. Talia stood behind it like a cow being led to the slaughterhouse. A young maid approached her, removed her thin robe, and unbuttoned her summer dress one by one. Soon, the puffy dress that had been wrapped around her body slid down.

Talia noticed the maid had suddenly held her breath and reflexively glanced down at her petticoat. The outline of her twisted leg was faintly visible through the thin fabric. Feeling her ears burn with humiliation, she snapped at the maid.

“Don’t just stand there staring—hurry up and finish this!”

The frozen maid hurriedly brought the garments. Unable to bear watching her clumsy movements, the head maid pushed the maid aside and helped her into the milky-white silk dress herself.

The thin fabric, delicately pleated, flowed down her body like mist. The head maid draped a semi-transparent, grayish-blue outer layer over it, then fastened a waist sash embroidered with elaborate patterns.

The sash, woven from two layers of silk, was adorned with jade, topaz, and small animal-shaped ornaments. After tightening it snugly to accentuate her waistline, the maid draped colorful cords adorned with metal bells and tassels over her hips.

The adornment did not end there. Various jewels strung on fine gold thread were layered around her neck and wrists, and large earrings engraved with golden bird motifs hung from her earlobes.

It felt as if she had been transformed into a jewelry display case. Was such a flamboyant outfit really the traditional attire of the East? Just as she frowned in doubt, the maid who had been helping her into a dark blue silk coat with wide sleeves let out a sigh that sounded like an exclamation.

“You look just like the Tiramer of legend.”

“Tiramer?”

When Talia furrowed her brow at the unfamiliar word, the maid covered her mouth with a pale, shocked expression. Her suspicious reaction dampened her spirits. Was she treating her like a fool?

Perhaps she was mocking her, taking advantage of her ignorance.

She asked back, as if pressing the issue.

“What is that? Why did you stop mid-sentence?”

“Tiramer is….”

“Tiramer is the earth spirit who governs the seasons.”

The head maid pulled the front of her silk cloak diagonally across her chest and pinned the flowing hem with a brooch as she spoke.

“The ancient Easterners believed themselves to be descendants of Tiramer. She is considered the most beautiful and noble of all the spirits of this land.”

Talia looked at the head maid’s composed face with a suspicious gaze.

“Then just say so. Why are you turning pale?”

“It seems Brisa was worried that Your Highness might misunderstand and think we truly believe in that legend.”

The head maid, who had arranged the front of her coat to drape naturally, straightened her posture and replied.

“The story of Tiramer is merely an old oral legend. I hope Your Highness will not doubt our faith.”

Talia stared intently at the head maid’s stern face. A faint tension hung over her long, horse-like features. She had no way of knowing if this was an act to deceive her, or if it stemmed from a fear of being branded a heretic.

She turned her head to face the mirror she had been avoiding all along. On its smooth surface, shrouded in deep shadow, a face reflected that bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother’s.

However, instead of the explosive vitality that Senevere possessed, a gloomy, ashen shadow was cast over that exquisite face. Eyes hungry as if starved for something, a gaunt face, a wretched body far inferior to Senevere’s perfectly proportioned, sensual physique………………

Suddenly, Gareth’s mocking voice rang in her ears.

‘A woman’s face on a monster’s body……….’

The face, which seemed to be a clumsy imitation of her mother’s, contorted horribly. It was agonizing to look at her own form, ruined and left unfinished.

She spun around abruptly.

“If you’re done, get out of my way! How long are you going to keep fiddling with it?”

When she somewhat roughly brushed away the hands styling her hair, the maid standing behind her flinched and stepped back.

The head maid let out a small sigh.

“I’ll place the crown on your head. Please bear with me just a little longer.”

A maid who had been waiting immediately brought over a golden crown. The head maid placed it on Talia’s head, then rolled her long hair into a bun and secured it with a jade ornament.

When all the preparations were finally complete, the maids stepped back and bowed respectfully.

“We will now escort you to His Highness the Grand Duke’s chambers.”

The head maid said as she stepped toward the door. Talia watched her for a moment with a look of anxiety in her eyes, then followed behind.

Dozens of soldiers were waiting in the hallway. As she cautiously stepped through them, the sound of her limping echoed.

She tried her best to walk as naturally as possible, but her stiff leg, as always, betrayed her will.

She held her head high, trying not to let her shame show.

After walking for what seemed like a while, the head maid stopped.

“This is the room.”

She said, pointing to the large door across from the staircase.

It seemed the Grand Duke’s quarters were located on the same floor. Relieved that she wouldn’t have to climb the stairs, Talia approached the large mahogany door.

“We have brought Her Highness the Princess.”

As the head maid announced in a respectful tone, a solemn voice came from inside the room.

“Come in.”

The head maid immediately obeyed the command. As the maids flung the doors open from both sides simultaneously, a spacious room filled with courtiers was revealed.

Talia stiffened as she met the gaze of dozens of pairs of eyes fixed upon her. The well-dressed men were staring at her with expressions that seemed shocked by something.

Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine.

Perhaps there was something wrong with her appearance. She examined her attire. Maybe they had dressed her up haphazardly just to make a laughingstock of her. Perhaps they had deceived her with the lie that it was traditional Eastern attire, only to dress her up like a clown.

She glared at the head maid as if she were about to tear her face apart. Then, suddenly, she wondered if her legs might be showing through the hem of her dress, and she quickly looked down again.

Nothing was visible except for the voluminous, pleated skirt. But from the front, the distorted shape of her legs might be visible.

Cold sweat trickled down her spine. Talia darted her eyes, her expression betraying a desperate urge to flee at any moment.

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed through the room. Startled, Talia jerked her head up and stared wide-eyed at Varkas, who had already approached her.

He, too, was dressed in a similar style. A black silk tunic with a subtle sheen, a belt adorned with intricate gold embroidery, and a wide, diagonally draped cloak flowed gracefully along the contours of his sturdy frame.

Talia, who had been staring at him as if spellbound, felt warm fingers touch the tip of her chin and lifted her gaze.

Large earrings set with blue gemstones and a necklace dangling with clusters of topaz sparkled in the sunlight.

In that instant, her heart sank.

It was the first time she had ever seen him adorned with so many jewels. Wasn’t he the man who dressed more ascetically than any priest?

The lavishly adorned Varkas looked less like a knight of the Roem Empire and more like the ruler of an ancient barbarian tribe.

“Are your legs hurting, by any chance?”

Varkas, who had been staring intently at her, asked in a heavy, subdued tone.

Talia, who had barely regained her composure, brushed his hand away and took a step back. She felt as though the violent pounding of her heart would reach his ears.

“Ah, I’m fine.”

She tried her best to feign composure, but her cheeks burned as if set ablaze. His blue eyes settled upon her flushed face.

Varkas furrowed his brow and touched her forehead.

“You’re running a fever again………………."

“I told you I’m fine!”

***

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