Chapter 41
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 41
Veins bulged against the Crown Prince’s thick neck.
Edric moved closer to Thalia’s side, sensing that Gareth was on the verge of throwing a punch. He wasn’t the only one who noticed the danger; Barkas, who had been standing as silent as a shadow, stepped between the two.
“The schedule has been delayed significantly. Let us proceed with the ritual.”
The Second Imperial Princess, her body momentarily stiff, turned her gaze toward Lord Sieorkan.
It was only for a fleeting second, but Edric, his every nerve on edge, noticed her frame go rigid. It seemed even this wild, reckless woman knew she had to watch herself when Lord Sieorkan turned serious.
She bit her lip and looked away. The Crown Prince, who had been huffing as if ready to explode at any moment, ground his teeth and returned to his place before the altar.
Once the situation seemed settled, the Head Priest—who had been shrinking his neck like a tortoise while reading the room—cleared his throat and resumed the ceremony.
Standing a short distance away, Edric watched as the three members of the Imperial Family received their consecration prayers in turn.
When the Crown Prince first stepped before the altar and bowed his head, the Head Priest raised a silver chalice, poured holy water over him, and chanted blessings in the ancient tongue.
Next, the First Imperial Princess and her husband-to-be, Lord Sieorkan, stepped forward. Finally, Thalia bowed before the priest.
Edric stared at Thalia as she kept her eyes cast down, feeling as though he were looking at a stranger.
The light from hundreds of candles cast a mystical glow over her amber-gold hair and pale skin, making her look like a being from another dimension. As he watched her in a daze, the priest poured holy water over her head.
The clear stream soaked her golden threads of hair, flowing down her smooth forehead and cheeks, tracing the straight bridge of her nose before beading at the tip of her chin.
The priest placed his hand upon her head and channeled his divine power.
“May the grace of the gods be with you for eternity...”
The prayer, which felt as though it would never end, finally ceased.
As the priest rang a silver bell, the Crown Prince was the first to rise and stride through the congregation. When the First Imperial Princess and Lord Sieorkan followed, Thalia Roem Guirta also slowly straightened her posture. Then, with her chin held high, she marched through the crowd with the bearing of a queen.
No one could take their eyes off her commanding presence.
The incarnation of discord. A repulsive and ill-omened existence.
It was as if, in that moment, they had realized for the very first time that the woman they had always viewed with disdain was, in fact, an Imperial Princess of the Empire.
* * *
Perhaps because the altitude had risen sharply, the air, which had been as stifling as a boiling bath, grew cool.
Inhaling the dry, chilly air, Thalia looked out the window at the sky where the sun was setting. A deep blue night was rolling in from the east. Another day was about to end without anything happening.
Her throat burned as if she had swallowed a fireball.
Thalia opened the storage box fixed to the corner of the carriage and took out a small silver knife she had brought from the monastery. The pale, shimmering blade seemed to whisper to her that it was tired of waiting.
Tucking it into her pocket, she stepped cautiously out of the carriage, and the bustling sight of the campsite filled her vision.
She pulled the hood of her gown over her head and carefully scanned her surroundings. It seemed they were holding a grand banquet to soothe Gareth’s foul mood. Servants were busier than ever, scurrying between tents to carry wine and food, and several soldiers were already visibly drunk.
Thalia moistened her dry lips, fingering the blade in her pocket. She welcomed the rowdy atmosphere; it would only make things easier to handle. She began to cross the campsite stealthily.
Just then, a personal guard spotted her and ran over, looking delighted.
“Your Highness!”
Thalia furrowed her brows. Why did this man persist in wagging his tail at her so tenaciously? His inexplicably friendly attitude was starting to feel unpleasant.
After glaring at his harmless face—as if searching for any hidden malice—Thalia let out a loud, mocking snort and brushed past him. But the man was not deterred by her cold reaction.
“You must have felt very stifled, didn’t you? Come, this way. The servants are preparing food. If you watch the cooking process yourself, you’ll be able to eat with peace of mind, won’t you?”
Ignoring the knight’s incessant chattering, she walked toward the sound of music.
Before long, she found Gareth enjoying a feast in front of a lavish tent where a fire had been lit. She stopped at a distance. The Crown Prince’s attendants were trying everything to lift the spirits of their master, who was nursing his drink with a sullen face. While servants dressed as ridiculous clowns performed tricks with daggers, musicians played sultry tunes to his liking, and several maids flirted while pretending to serve him.
As she watched the scene with derision, the personal guard blocked her path.
“It would be better if you went that way.”
Thalia looked up silently at his serious face. He had worn this same expression while standing by her side at the temple—as if he were truly protecting her from danger.
Thalia snorted inwardly. As if I’d fall for that.
“Mind your own business.”
Snapping coldly, Thalia turned and walked toward the tents lined up near the riverbank.
Gareth hadn’t been her target in the first place. Thalia scanned the area for Aila’s camp, trying her best to look natural. Eventually, she spotted her half-sister enjoying a meal, surrounded by a group of maids.
She fell into deep thought. Knights were scattered all around Aila. To them, Thalia was a person of interest; if she tried to approach recklessly, she would be restrained immediately.
She bit her lip anxiously. How could she get close to her half-sister without arousing suspicion?
While she was lost in thought, the personal guard, who hadn’t stopped talking, suddenly went quiet. Thalia glanced up. The man was looking down at her with a suspicious gaze. He seemed to find her unusual behavior questionable.
She sat on a nearby table, feigning a nonchalant expression. Then, to divert the knight’s attention, she spoke abruptly.
“I’m hungry. Bring me something to eat.”
The knight’s face brightened instantly at her words. He was an absurdly simple man.
“Please wait just a moment! I’ll have it ready for you right away.”
Once her annoying watchdog vanished, Thalia shifted her eyes beneath her low-slung hood to observe Aila’s movements again. Her sister was laughing continuously at the maids' jokes.
Can I really snuff out the life of that loathsome woman?
Her mouth went bone-dry. She might be subdued by a knight who noticed something suspicious before she could even make a proper attempt. If that happened, it wouldn’t be dismissed as a mere prank.
Fingering the blade in her pocket, she contemplated whether this task was truly worth her life.
Even if Aila disappeared from this world, it wouldn’t mean she would get Barkas. He would go on living his life as always, and she would vanish like dew on the execution grounds. The only result of this foolish act would be a miserable death.
‘Even so...’
Would watching Aila become Barkas’s wife be any better than death?
While Aila, as the Grand Duchess of Sieorkan, bore and raised his heirs, Thalia would wither away in agonizing pain. Perhaps she would be forced into a marriage with a man chosen by Senevia. If that happened, she would eventually hang herself, unable to endure the foul touch of a man she loathed. No, that was exactly what would happen.
Whether she died this way or that, death was her final destination. It might be better to end it cleanly today, taking Aila with her as a traveling companion to the afterlife.
Her resolve finally hardened, and Thalia stood up. She began to approach Aila as naturally as possible when a familiar silhouette suddenly caught her eye.
‘That woman is...’