* * *
Contrary to her expectations, the journey continued peacefully.
Though nights thick and viscous as tar came and went, morning arrived each time without a single person ending up drenched in blood, and before the sun rose high overhead, they packed their belongings and resumed the march.
The schedule was delayed little by little as soldiers exhausted by the sweltering heat fell behind, but the pilgrimage itself proceeded without major disruption.
On the fifth day after leaving the imperial palace, the procession led by Gareth and his imperial guard arrived at the small northwestern city of Sortica, where they spent a night before continuing northward once more.
Throughout it all, Talia watched Senevier’s attendants with burning vigilance.
Though they pretended to be nauseatingly loyal, Talia never let go of her suspicion for even a moment.
They were merely waiting for the proper opportunity.
It was obvious something dreadful would happen soon enough.
Whenever Senevier involved herself in something, sinister schemes always followed like shadows.
If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after that.......
Soon, some horrific spectacle would unfold before their eyes.
Talia did not know whether she feared it or anticipated it.
Whenever she saw Varkas — so cold toward her — treating Aila with endless gentleness instead, she found herself wishing some terrible tragedy would occur immediately.
If the two of them were reduced to mangled corpses beyond recognition, she thought perhaps she would finally feel relieved.
Rather than seeing him standing at Aila’s side, it would be a hundred times better to see his corpse.
Yet once night deepened, suffocating fear would come crawling over her.
It made no difference how many hundreds of times she repeated to herself that it would not matter if a man like him died.
After trembling with anxiety all night, Talia burst from her tent before dawn had fully broken.
Relying on the faint gray light of early morning, she went searching for him.
Only after seeing Varkas alive and breathing with her own eyes did it feel as though she might finally be able to breathe again herself.
She hurried along a narrow path overgrown with thick brush before abruptly stopping at the sound of a horse snorting.
Pushing through the dense shrubs, she saw a gray stallion with a black mane cascading down its neck.
Leading the massive horse skillfully toward a spring, Varkas lowered himself onto one knee upon the ground.
Pulling lightly on the reins so the horse dipped its head toward the water, he scooped spring water up with his free hand and wet the stallion’s long, powerful neck.
Sunlight filtering through the thick leaves painted his hair a beautiful silver.
Watching the scene in silence, Talia soon closed her eyes in despair.
No matter how many times she tried to carve it out, her love for Varkas only continued to grow like a tumor, devouring her from within.
There was no visible path out of this swamp.
How could she rid herself of these feelings?
Leaning weakly against the trunk of a massive tree, Talia stared blankly up at the sky before slowly turning away.
Then she spotted Aila walking down the narrow trail and immediately hid herself behind the tree.
Perhaps she had come outside the moment she rose from bed. She wore only a single robe thrown carelessly over a thin dress, her long hair hanging loose over her shoulders.
She looked just as disheveled as Talia — perhaps even more so.
And yet despite that, Aila still appeared graceful and noble.
For a moment, Talia thought perhaps that woman possessed something flowing through her blood that she herself could never obtain, no matter what.
“So this is where you were.”
Cheeks tinged with a rosy warmth, Aila carefully approached him and sat atop a flat stone.
Varkas’s gaze settled upon her.
Unable to endure even that quiet look without delighting in it, Aila’s eyes curved softly as she carefully removed her shoes.
Then she dipped her feet into the spring water, lightly splashing droplets into the air.
The horse’s snorts, the sound of water splashing, and Aila’s bright laughter — cheerful as birdsong — melted together within the cold dawn air.
Talia crushed down the urge to leap out and seize her half-sister by the hair.
She also restrained the urge to tear apart the lips smiling toward him and rip out the tongue chirping merrily in his direction.
More than anything, she could not bear to witness Varkas trying to protect Aila.
At last, after enjoying the water long enough to satisfy herself, Aila stretched a hand toward him.
Instead of merely helping her to her feet, Varkas bent down and wiped her feet dry.
Then, as though he were some loyal servant, he carefully placed her shoes back onto her feet.
The sight stabbed into Talia’s heart like a dagger.
She turned and began to run.
Branches and blades of grass slashed wildly across her arms and calves, but she could feel no pain.
It was as though all her senses had broken.
Breathing raggedly, Talia raced through the winding forest path like a runaway racehorse.
Then suddenly, her foot caught on a protruding tree root, and she tumbled hard to the ground.
Buried among the bushes, chest heaving violently, Talia abruptly burst into laughter.
What would Senevier say if she saw her like this?
Most likely, she would furrow her beautiful brow and slowly shake her head.
It almost felt as though she could hear her mother’s mocking voice drifting from somewhere nearby.
“You have two paths before you. One is to obtain the man you desire by any means necessary. The other is to become a loser who is at least slightly # Nоvеlight # less pathetic.”
Senevier seemed to want her to become some seductive temptress and lure him in, but Talia could never become someone like Senevier, not even if she died trying.
Senevier would have seized what she wanted no matter the method.
But Talia did not know what she should do beyond praying for this painful time to end as quickly as possible.
Staring up at the fragmented sky visible between the branches, Talia eventually forced herself upright.
Emerging from the dark forest path with weary steps, she spotted several knights milling about in confusion.
Passing by them, she headed toward her carriage, only for that imperial guard knight — Rubon or whatever his name was — to quickly step into her path.
“Where in the world have you been without saying a single word! I’ve repeatedly told you that you cannot wander around alone without an escort.......”
The knight abruptly stopped mid-scolding.
He appeared genuinely startled by the sight of her disheveled state.
“What in the...... your appearance...... Don’t tell me something happened to you somewhere?”
Ignoring him, she stepped onto the carriage stairs.
But the man seemed unwilling to stop lecturing her.
Gripping the doorframe, he continued in a firm voice,
“It is my duty to protect Your Highness. Therefore—”
“Someone seeing you now might actually think you’re worried about me.”
Talia looked down at him mockingly.
“It seems you were ordered not to take your eyes off the lunatic princess for even a moment...... but if you’re going to monitor me, then perhaps you should stay alert. Why are you blaming me for something you missed because you were standing around like an idiot?”
The man clamped his mouth shut as though speechless.
Talia slammed the carriage door shut directly in his face.
The knight cursed harshly after getting his fingers caught in the door.
Thankfully the gauntlets seemed to spare him any serious injury, but judging by the continued grumbling outside, he was clearly in considerable pain.
As always, Talia ignored every complaint drifting in from outside.
Had she listened to every word spoken about her by the people surrounding her, she would have gone mad long ago.
After becoming an imperial princess, the very first thing she learned was how to let words pass by unheard.
Pulling the heavy curtains shut across the window where the pale light of dawn streamed in, Talia curled up into herself like a hedgehog.
