Chapter 66
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 66
“Have you been burning those incense candles again?”
Barkas’s voice was sharp with rebuke as he stared directly into her eyes—eyes that were currently hazy, her pupils dilated.
Thalia felt a hot flush creep up her cheeks.
She had only used the medicine to dull the pain. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she couldn’t understand why she felt like a child caught in a shameful misdeed.
As she lowered her gaze to avoid his piercing stare, a dry sigh tickled her forehead.
“...Perhaps it’s for the best.”
Muttering bitterly, Barkas knelt on the floor and wrapped one arm around her back.
Thalia looked up at the sharp, clean line of his jaw, now only inches from her face. Her eyes widened in panic. He slid his other arm beneath her legs and slowly stood up, lifting her with ease.
Thalia instinctively gripped the fabric of her skirt. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of her dress riding up.
“I—I can walk on my own.”
“Just stay lost in your medicinal haze,” Barkas said dryly as he stepped out of the carriage. “It will make today easier to endure.”
Thalia flinched, catching the biting cynicism in his voice. To him, today was clearly a day that simply had to be survived. As she hung her head dejectedly, an unfamiliar voice spoke from nearby.
“Commander, His Majesty appears to be running a little late.”
Thalia recoiled, burrowing deeper into Barkas’s arms.
Barkas pulled his cloak open to shield her from view and gave a blunt order to the man who had approached.
“Go to the High Priest and inform him.”
Then, he strode toward the marble-carved archway.
Thalia unconsciously gripped his shirt. Beyond the edge of his thin cloak, which smelled faintly of peppermint, she could see a sky heavy with leaden clouds.
The gloomy gray light, an omen of her dark future, cast a sinister glow on the faces of the saints carved into the stone walls and pillars. As those stone faces drew closer, the fear pooling in her stomach crawled up her throat.
On impulse, she spoke.
“The weather is so dreary today.”
Blue eyes flecked with silver looked down at her. Avoiding his gaze, she stammered on.
“No one gets married on a day like this.”
So, we should just stop, she wanted to say, but his lips parted first.
“Then we shall be the first.”
At his soothing tone, Thalia swallowed the words that had risen to her throat. He was a man who had grown weary of her whims; he was likely just saying whatever it took to pacify her.
She tried to steady herself with that thought, but her heart, lacking any pride, began to race uncontrollably. She buried her face against his chest to hide her flushing cheeks.
Soon, the Grand Temple’s massive maw swallowed them whole. The cold, heavy air pressed down on her body, which was clad only in a thin dress.
Thalia hunched her shoulders and peeked out from between the folds of Barkas’s cloak. She saw hundreds of people filling the corridors. Her mouth went dry; there were far more guests than she had anticipated.
There was no way they had gathered to celebrate this union. They were likely forced to attend, wary of Senevia’s influence. Or perhaps they had come to gawk at the spectacle of the illegitimate princess.
She looked down, obsessively checking that her legs were well-hidden beneath her clothes. Even seeing the voluminous fabric covering her down to her toes did nothing to ease her anxiety.
With hands damp with cold sweat, she gripped the hem of her skirt and pulled it down, scanning the congregation to see if anyone was staring at her legs. She met hundreds of pairs of wide-open eyes.
Her spine stiffened. Was she truly that hideous? Then, a dark cloak blocked her view.
“It seems we must wait for His Majesty to arrive.”
His voice was strangely soft. He turned away from the crossing and headed toward the relatively quiet transept, adding, “Try to get some sleep until then.”
Thalia looked up at his chin with vacant eyes. He was saying the strangest things today. Where in the world was there a bride who slept at her own wedding?
Just as she was about to retort, a somewhat familiar voice called out from behind them.
“Sir Sieorkan.”
Thalia looked past his collar. The knight who followed Barkas like a shadow was running toward them.
“Marquis Oristein is looking for you. He said he wishes to speak with you briefly before the ceremony begins.”
Marquis Oristein—the maternal grandfather of Gareth and Aila. Why would such a man come to this wedding?
When she looked up in confusion, she saw Barkas’s face harden. After a moment of silence, as if weighing his options, Barkas set her down on a choir seat. He took off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
“Wait here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
Thalia reached out to grab him but quickly pulled her hand back. He had only taken her on because of the Emperor’s command. She had to get used to being pushed to the background.
“Keep a close watch on her.”
Barkas gave the instruction to the knight and left the transept with graceful, commanding strides.
Thalia bit her lip anxiously as she watched his retreating figure. Marquis Oristein had undoubtedly come to stop this marriage. What kind of words would he use to persuade Barkas?
As she sat there lost in thought, she felt a stinging gaze on her cheek.
Thalia whipped her head around and gasped, finding a pair of dark brown eyes staring down at her. The knight, who had been watching her with a strange expression, flinched and turned his head away. Cold sweat broke out on her back.
Why was he looking at her like that? Was there something wrong with her appearance other than her legs?
She looked down at her body, draped in the ethereal dress. She worried that the silhouette of her twisted legs might be visible through the fine fabric.
“Would you like something to drink while you wait?” the knight asked awkwardly, clearing his throat.
Thalia hid her insecurity behind a mask of forced arrogance.
“I... I don’t need anything.”
But her tongue, loosened by the medicine, did not move as she intended.
She moistened her parched lips and glanced around. In addition to the knight standing guard over her, priests and attendants were lined up along the transept walls.
They, as well as those gathered at the crossing, were stealing glances at her. Those sticky, prying gazes grated on her nerves.
She bit her lip. She wanted to scream and ask what they were looking at. Senevia’s voice echoed in her ears, whispering that hideous things are mocked and trampled upon for no reason.
She wanted to bolt out of the temple this very second. But if she did, she would only tumble disgracefully in front of everyone. Ridicule would pour down on her like a torrential rain.
Illegitimate child.
Cripple.
The worst bride.
“Your Highness, you look pale. Shall I call a priest?”
The knight approached her with a worried face. Thalia shook her head violently.
“Forget it.”
“Even a simple recovery spell might help...”
“Do you have a hearing problem? I said forget it!”
When she snapped at him, the man finally shut his mouth. But he did not withdraw that peculiar gaze.
The man’s presence was becoming unbearably irritating. Every gaze fixed on her felt disgusting. She stared at the spot where Barkas had disappeared with anxious, pleading eyes.
When on earth is he coming back?
What could they be talking about for this long?
Suddenly, Aila’s voice drifted through her mind, warning her that she would regret this. Perhaps that woman had egged on her grandfather to play some trick.
Yes, that had to be it. A marriage between Barkas and herself—it was nonsense from the start.
Could this whole thing have been a play designed to humiliate her? Barkas might have already left the temple. She would be left as the miserable bride—not just an illegitimate cripple, but one abandoned at the altar.
“I’m going back.”
The knight looked at her in bewilderment at the sudden outburst.
Thalia yanked off the cloak Barkas had draped over her, threw it to the floor, and staggered to her feet. To escape the loathsome eyes watching her, she stepped toward a small side door at the end of the transept.
The knight, his expression panicked, quickly blocked her path.
“Where are you going? The ceremony is about to—”
“Move!”
She reached out to push him. But there was no way a knight clad in iron plate would be moved by her meager strength. She shot him a look filled with pure hostility.
“Didn’t you hear me? Move!”
She reached out again to shove him, but the strength left her legs and her body tilted sharply to one side. Thalia instinctively grabbed his arm.
She felt the knight’s body stiffen. She felt just as repulsed. It was horrifying to be touched by a man. His large, immovable body made her skin crawl.
The only one it was okay to be touched by was Barkas. But that man had left her. Tears suddenly burst forth.
“Let go!”
She violently shook off the hand that reached out to support her shoulder. Suddenly, her body was lifted into the air.
Thalia looked back with startled eyes. She met Barkas’s cold, stony gaze.
He stared at her face as if he were about to explode, then turned his gaze toward his subordinate. The knight’s face turned beet red as he bowed his head in shame. After staring at him in silence for a long time, Barkas turned around, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist.
“All the guests have arrived. The ceremony will begin now.”
His icy voice resonated clearly above her head.
“It is too late to turn back.”