Chapter 26
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 26
Gareth watched his half-sister’s profile with a suspicious eye, only to feel a sudden surge of irritation. Why was he wasting so much attention on this trivial creature’s every move? He jerked his head away.
What did it matter what was going on inside that head of hers? She was a being he would erase from this world the moment he ascended the throne. He only had to endure her until then.
He gulped down the potent wine, trying to drown out his sister’s grating presence.
* * *
Thalia pressed the wine glass to her lips, feigning an air of boredom. Noticing a faint tremor in her fingertips, she set the glass down immediately. She hid her hands beneath the table, trying to look as natural as possible, and licked her parched lips.
The spot where she had touched Barkas burned as if scorched by fire, even though their bare skin hadn’t actually met. It felt as though the sensation of his hard knuckles, felt through those cold leather gloves, had seeped deep into her skin.
She forced her shoulders, which kept trying to hunch inward, to straighten and rubbed her sweat-dampened palms against her skirt. She could feel the moisture-laden fabric clinging to her legs.
A sudden sense of frustration washed over her. The dress she had chosen specifically to incite Gareth’s rage now felt like it was strangling her.
She clenched her fists, feeling a prickling sensation across her exposed shoulders and spine. Even though she knew the man couldn’t possibly be looking at her, her nerves were frayed to the point of pain.
Thalia desperately suppressed the urge to glance over her shoulder to see where he was looking. Through years of acting, she could maintain a composed expression, but she could do nothing about the cold sweat breaking out on her skin.
Feeling the thin scrap of fabric sticking to her like a viscous liquid, Thalia bit her lower lip. Choosing this dress had been a truly foolish mistake.
“Does the food not suit your palate?”
Thalia flinched at the sudden voice. The young monk seated across from her was staring at her intently.
Had they called him the Abbot? Thalia gave a dismissive shrug.
“It is rather meager compared to the fare at the Imperial Palace.”
At her indifferent remark, the monk’s face contorted slightly.
To signal him to leave her alone, she turned her head away sharply and picked up a small piece of cake. If I pretend to eat something, he won’t bother me with useless conversation, she thought. She shoved the dry, crumbly morsel into her mouth and chewed mechanically. It felt like swallowing a sponge.
She forced back a surge of nausea and took a sip of wine. Then, noticing several monks stealing persistent glances at her, she knitted her brows. Their leering gazes felt more revolting than the greasy food.
She stood up abruptly.
“This is a disappointing banquet. I shall return to my room and seek some sleep.”
Gareth shot her an annoyed look. Normally, she would have thrown a few more barbs to get under her brother’s skin, but she felt as if bile might rise in her throat at any moment; she couldn’t stay there a second longer.
She hurried out of the hall. As she left the space filled with the smell of grease, alcohol, and burning candles, her churning stomach seemed to settle.
Taking a deep breath, Thalia brushed back the hair from her forehead, which was damp with cold sweat, and walked down the corridor with soft, rhythmic steps.
She felt the chilled night air sweep down her spine. Wrapping her arms around her goosebump-covered limbs, she quickened her pace.
Sometimes, she found herself wondering why she was doing this. What was the point of putting herself on display and causing trouble under the gaze of others?
“The Crown Prince seems utterly unable to tolerate your existence. At times, it seems he finds you even more unacceptable than he finds me.”
Senevia’s voice, murmuring with satisfaction once upon a time, echoed in her ears.
It must have been the day of the memorial service for the late Empress Bernadette.
Gareth had completely lost his mind the moment he saw her enter the hall, led by her mother’s hand.
The nobles had watched in horror as the Crown Prince shrieked and throttled the young Imperial Princess. He would not budge until two knights rushed in to finally tear him away.
Once freed from those vicious hands, Thalia had crawled to her mother’s feet and curled into a ball. Senevia had wrapped her arms around her as if to protect her.
The relief that had almost moved her to tears was short-lived; Thalia had caught a glimpse of a satisfied expression flitting across Senevia’s face.
It must have been from that day forward that she began to provoke Gareth at every opportunity.
Her reputation, already at rock bottom, plummeted to the worst possible depths, but she didn’t care. The Crown Prince’s reputation would also take a hit, and that would make her mother happy.
A hollow laugh escaped her lungs. It was pathetic that even in this state, she was struggling so desperately to earn a mere ounce of her mother’s affection.
Even if she dragged the Crown Prince’s honor through the dirt, Senevia would never love her.
Her mother loved no one. Not the Emperor, and likely not even Athros, whom she doted on so much.
To her, everything was merely a tool or a means to an end. Perhaps Thalia repeated these actions because she knew that all too well. If she failed to prove her utility, she would truly become nothing to her mother...
“Your Highness.”
Thalia was jolted from her thoughts by the sudden voice.
Turning her head, she saw a dark silhouette standing tall in a corner of the dim corridor. Recognizing him as the monk who had been leering at her persistently in the banquet hall, Thalia’s body went rigid.
Did he follow me?
She cautiously scanned her surroundings. Not a single soul was visible in the long corridor leading to the garden. The realization that he had followed her silently until she reached a secluded spot made her skin crawl.
“What is your business?”
Thalia struggled to hide her fear, putting on a voice of feigned dignity.
Fortunately, her bravado seemed to work, as the monk hesitated. She shot him a fierce glare, hoping he would simply turn and run.
“I asked what your business is.”
“I-it’s because of what you said earlier...” the monk stammered.
She frowned. “What did I say?”
“I mean... earlier, at the banquet...”
The man shifted his body in an unsettling way, casting suggestive, lewd glances at her, his freckled face flushing red.
Thalia braced her legs to keep from backing away. If she showed weakness, her opponent would only grow bolder. She tilted her chin up arrogantly.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. If you have no specific business, I shall be on my way.”
“You... you said you wanted to meet the Crown Prince’s expectations... didn’t you?” the man blurted out urgently.
Thalia, who had been turning toward the garden, froze and looked back at him. Could it be that he had followed her after hearing the words she had spat out to provoke Gareth—after his warning not to toy with the priests?
A chill ran down her spine, as if she had been doused with cold water.