Chapter 39
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 39
Barkas reached the carriage in a flash, tossing Thalia onto the seat with a rough, careless shove.
Thalia rubbed her aching backside, glaring at him with eyes full of resentment. However, she froze when she saw his face; his expression was set in a terrifyingly grim mask. Looking down at her as if his patience had finally snapped, Barkas spoke through gritted teeth.
“Did I not warn you to stop causing trouble?”
After a momentary flinch, Thalia shot back a defiant look.
“Why should I listen to you? Who do you think you are!”
“I am certainly more than a princess who exists in name alone.”
A cold, mocking smile played on Barkas’s lips.
Thalia surged to her feet, overcome by a sudden burst of rage. She felt she couldn’t endure another second without striking that arrogant face.
But Barkas was faster. Looming over her, he pinned her arms down and stared into her eyes with a hollow, empty gaze. His dry look, devoid of even a shred of pity, swept over her bloodshot cheek and the nape of her neck, which was already turning black and blue with bruises.
A weary sigh escaped his lips.
“Do you truly act out like this because you are ignorant? No one here will lift a finger to protect you. If the Crown Prince makes up his mind, no one can guarantee your life.”
“Why do you care?” Thalia shrieked. “Wouldn’t you be the most relieved person in the world if I simply disappeared?”
“I cannot deny that.”
Even though it was the answer she expected, Thalia felt a pang of pain as if her heart were bleeding.
Barkas continued, his voice cruelly calm. “But I cannot allow you to jeopardize the Crown Prince’s position. So, if you have a death wish, please fulfill it by your own hand. Do not involve him.”
Thalia blinked hard against the heat rising in her eyes.
He slowly straightened his posture. The sharp edge that had defined his face vanished, replaced once more by the rigid, professional mask of a knight. He added in a businesslike tone, “I will send for a healer. Compose yourself and get some rest.”
Thalia’s only response was to snatch up a silver wine cup rolling on the floor and hurl it at him. The goblet struck his chest before clattering to the ground. Barkas shot her a look of utter disgust and immediately stepped out of the carriage.
Thalia slammed the door shut and bolted it. The tears she had fought so hard to suppress finally spilled down her cheeks. She quickly covered her mouth, terrified that a sob might escape. The weeping caught in her throat felt like it was choking her. She wanted to suffocate right then and there.
* * *
At the peak of Ulgram Hill, the White Temple—said to have been built by Emperor Darian to commemorate the independence of Osiria—stood in solitary grandeur.
The pilgrims halted before it, looking up at the magnificent, snow-white structure with eyes full of awe. Despite the passage of many years, the temple remained almost perfectly preserved.
They fell into a state of religious fervor as they scanned the prayers carved into the walls and the statues of ancient heroes. However, the Crown Prince seemed entirely unmoved by the relic left by his ancestor.
Leaping down from his saddle, Gareth scanned the arched entrance with a bored expression.
“Is this the second holy site?” he asked.
“It is, Your Highness,” one of the attendants replied in a strained voice.
The servants, well aware that his mood had been bottoming out since the previous day, were all shrinking back, warily watching the Crown Prince’s every move. Only Barkas maintained his usual composed demeanor.
“I am told there is no resident priest here. We shall prepare the ritual ourselves,” Barkas said, approaching the Crown Prince.
Gareth glared at him with a gaze laced with strange hostility before abruptly turning away.
“Then stop dawdling and get it done.”
As soon as the command was given, the attendants parked the carriages near the temple and began unloading the luggage. The attendants of the First Imperial Princess and the other royals, who arrived late, joined in the effort.
While the soldiers skillfully pitched the tents, the servants took out censers, patens, silver pitchers, and candlesticks from the crates, polishing them until they shone. Once the general preparations were complete, the maids immediately began assisting the Crown Prince and the First Imperial Princess with their grooming.
Watching the scene from a short distance away, Edric approached the carriage where Thalia was sequestered. If she was to participate in the ritual, it was time to suggest she prepare herself. Strangely, however, he found it difficult to speak.
He stared at the firmly closed door and scratched the back of his head roughly. The memory of the Second Imperial Princess from the previous evening made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
Edric, who had raised his arm to knock, let it drop limply. He looked toward the Crown Prince’s tent set up a little further away.
While the servants brought out a large bathtub in front of the tent, filled it with water, and lit a fire, the Crown Prince sat leaning back in a chair, leisurely sipping wine. That carefree sight left a bitter taste in Edric’s mouth.
He beat his own sister into that state, yet he doesn’t seem to feel a shred of guilt.
He had heard rumors that the Crown Prince laid hands on the Second Imperial Princess, but he hadn’t imagined it would be to that extent.
He clenched his fists as he recalled the sight of the woman—with a frame that seemed barely a handful—being struck in the face and struggling while being strangled by a man the size of a mountain. It was fortunate that Sir Sieorkan had been nearby; otherwise, a horrific tragedy might have occurred.
Looking down at his palms, which were slick with cold sweat, Edric eventually turned away.
Thalia Roem Guirta would likely insist on skipping the ritual anyway. There was no need to waste his energy.
He was about to head toward the temple with a heavy sigh when he heard a rattling sound behind him.
“You there.”
Startled, Edric turned his head. His eyes widened to see Thalia standing at the carriage entrance with her arms crossed. Looking as arrogant as ever, as if nothing had happened, she stepped down from the carriage and jerked her chin.
“Call the maids.”
“...Pardon?”
As he stood there blinking blankly, she shot him an irritated look.
“Are you deaf as well as ugly and stupid? I’m going to get dressed, so call the maids this instant!”
Edric, stunned by the verbal abuse—the likes of which he had never heard before—soon turned and gathered the personal servants the Empress had assigned to her.
For some reason, seeing Thalia wagging her tongue so spiritedly made a sigh of relief escape him. Though the healer had mended her wounds the previous night, he had worried she might collapse after enduring such an ordeal on an empty stomach.
She seems fine, fortunately.
Then again, she was a woman who had mocked the Crown Prince without a hint of intimidation even after narrowly escaping with her life. She wasn’t someone whose spirit would be broken so easily.
Letting out a hollow laugh, Edric immediately instructed the servants to fetch water and ordered his subordinates to tidy their uniforms. Since the Second Imperial Princess finally seemed inclined to participate in the traditional imperial ritual, he intended to escort her properly as her personal guard.