Chapter 67
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 67
He all but carried her as they made their way across the wing.
Thalia’s lips, raw and stinging from where she had bitten them, parted slightly.
Are you really going to marry me like this? Truly?
The question burned in her throat, but she forced her mouth shut. He was right. They had already come too far to turn back now.
She lowered her gaze, looking out at the guests filling the nave. A sea of faces blurred before her tear-filled eyes—the Empress’s inner circle, high-ranking officials, and nobles from the empire’s most prestigious families. Every influential figure she recognized was watching them in a heavy, expectant silence.
She finally understood why Barkas hadn’t simply abandoned her and walked out of the hall. No matter how powerful the heir to a Great Lord was, he could not ruin a wedding hosted by the Emperor himself in front of such a distinguished audience.
“The ceremony will begin shortly. Would the bride and groom please move to the waiting area?”
As they reached the transept, a waiting priest spoke to them with cautious reverence. Barkas immediately followed him toward the alcove beside the altar.
Thalia followed with staggering steps, her eyes darting restlessly. Beyond her blurred vision, which felt as though it were shrouded in a thick fog, faces passed by like spectators watching a thrilling play. Those cold, ashen expressions seemed to mock her in unison.
“Are your legs hurting?”
Noticing her body had gone rigid, Barkas reached out and cupped her chin. Thalia stared at him, dazed. He lightly brushed the moisture from her eyes with his thumb. His touch was so gentle that she wondered if it was merely a hallucination brought on by the sleep herb.
He gazed deep into her eyes and whispered in a low voice, “Just endure it a little longer. I’ll let you rest the moment the ceremony is over.”
His tone, as if he were coaxing a frightened child, made her throat tighten.
He’s only doing this because he’s afraid I’ll cause a scene in front of all these people.
He’s just soothing me so I won’t throw a tantrum.
She repeated these thoughts like a mantra, desperately trying to calm her racing heart, when a voice she never expected to hear in this place echoed in her ears.
“I can hardly bear to watch. One might actually think this was a marriage of love.”
Thalia flinched, her shoulders tensing as she slowly turned her head. Gareth, dressed in a striking red doublet, was walking across the congregation seating, followed by half a dozen members of the Imperial Guard.
In an instant, the blood in her veins seemed to freeze.
“Why the long face for the brother who came to congratulate you?” Gareth stopped in front of her, his lips twisting into a sneer.
Thalia looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. Perhaps he found it gratifying that his half-sister—the one who always got under his skin—was now pale, trembling, and unable to utter a single word. A cruel smile flickered across Gareth’s rugged face.
He leaned in close and whispered chillingly, “You’ve traded a leg for the title of Grand Duchess; you should be wearing a brighter smile.”
Thalia glared at him, her expression hardening. Normally, she would have left claw marks on that arrogant face of his. But at this moment, she couldn’t even find her voice. Her already hazy mind seemed to have stalled entirely at his unexpected appearance.
She could only tremble like someone trapped in a nightmare, until suddenly, her head was pulled away.
“Your Highness.”
Barkas pulled her close, burying her face against his chest as he issued a sharp warning. “If you have come as a guest, please show the proper etiquette. Do you truly intend to cause a disturbance on the wedding day of an old friend?”
A heavy silence weighed down on them. Thalia swallowed hard, her forehead pressed against the fabric of his formal attire. She couldn’t understand why Barkas was protecting her from Gareth. It should have been the opposite. Wasn’t it his role to protect Gareth and Aila from the "wicked illegitimate child"?
“There’s no need to be so sharp. As long as you keep your promise, I will keep mine,” Gareth’s cold voice drifted from behind her.
She wanted to turn to see his expression, but the hand pressing her head against Barkas’s chest held her firm.
Barkas tightened his grip on her waist and said coldly, “If you intend to watch the ceremony, please take your seat.”
The sound of teeth grinding reached her ears before Gareth’s presence finally moved away. Only then did Barkas release his hold. Thalia twisted her head to watch Gareth’s retreating back as he headed toward the VIP seating.
As he sat down, an elderly man beside him spoke to him. It wasn’t difficult to recognize Marquis Oristein.
Had the two of them discussed something beforehand?
Thalia narrowed her eyes, then widened them as she realized that many of those filling the seats were conservative nobles who supported the Crown Prince.
Just what was going on?
As she scanned the chapel with a confused expression, a strong hand pulled her attention back.
“You don’t need to think about anything,” Barkas said, his icy eyes locking onto hers. “These are faces you will never have to see again after today. Do not waste your attention on them.”
He spoke with such emphasis it felt as if he were carving the words into her mind. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he led her toward the altar.
Thalia bit her cracked lips as she was practically dragged along. Barkas didn’t seem surprised by the situation at all. His calm reaction began to bring a semblance of order to her tangled thoughts.
Perhaps Gareth wanted to show the world that his relationship with House Sieorkan hadn’t soured because of this marriage. And Barkas must have agreed to the charade.
From the beginning, this marriage was nothing more than a play staged by the Emperor’s demands, Barkas’s sense of duty, and her own desire for revenge. He was still on Aila and Gareth’s side.
“His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress are arriving!”
A moment later, a booming voice rang out from the stairs leading to the high seats. Thalia broke her gaze from Barkas and looked up.
The Emperor and Empress walked gracefully toward the thrones on the second floor. They looked like the true protagonists of this stage. Thalia looked at the Emperor, who exuded a solemn dignity, before turning her gaze to Senevia standing beside him.
As always, the Empress radiated a brilliance that was almost blinding. Her exquisite features were in perfect harmony with her deep blonde hair, which looked like melted gold, and her voluptuous, perfect silhouette. The beauty Thalia once believed she might one day possess stabbed at her retinas like needles.
“We shall now begin the ceremony.”
Once the imperial couple was seated, the High Priest ascended the altar and spoke in a solemn tone. Thalia was led by Barkas’s hand to stand before him.
Behind the priest’s wrinkled face, she could see a black sky heavy with rain through the high windows. With the dark clouds at his back, the priest began to recite scriptures in the ancient tongue.
It all felt like a ridiculous comedy. Senevia with her ambiguous smile, the Emperor looking uncomfortable, the priest spouting empty blessings, and the guests watching this false ritual with sneers on their faces.
“Barkas Raedgo Sieorkan, do you swear to take Thalia Roem Guirta as your spouse and remain with her for the rest of your life?”
After the long scriptural passage, the priest finally asked the definitive question. Thalia moistened her dry lips, her gaze fixed on the floor.
After a few seconds of silence, Barkas spoke.
“I do.”
His response was dry, bordering on indifferent.
The priest turned the same question to her.
“Thalia Roem Guirta, do you swear to take Barkas Raedgo Sieorkan as your husband and remain with him for the rest of your life?”
Thalia looked up at the priest with hazy eyes. She wanted to respond as nonchalantly as Barkas had, but only a ragged, wheezing breath escaped her, as if an invisible hand were tightening around her throat.
As her silence stretched on, the hand around her waist tightened. Thalia turned her head to look at him. His blue eyes quietly urged her for an answer. Determined to end the moment, his gaze pushed her until she finally squeezed out the words.
“...I do.”
“By the names of God and His Majesty the Emperor, I hereby declare the two of you husband and wife.”
The priest made the proclamation in a flat tone, adding one last sentence to conclude the ritual.
“Now, the two of you shall seal your union with a kiss.”