As she passed in front of the main palace, Talia saw the servants who recognized her hastily bowing until their foreheads nearly touched the floor. Were they afraid the infamous Second Princess might suddenly lash out at them?
Ignoring the startled expressions of the maids—who were clearly aghast at her sudden, unannounced appearance—Talia strode straight into the Empress's Palace, more lavishly adorned than any fortress within the imperial palace.
At sunset, Senevier usually either enjoyed a banquet with the emperor in the main palace or spent a quiet evening within her own quarters. Talia guessed it would be the latter today.
Her guess was right. Senevier was resting in her secret workshop, located behind her private library.
Descending into the basement through an entrance hidden between the bookshelves, Talia was assaulted by the dizzying scent of herbs, pungent oils, and a faint, tickling smoke.
The large room, filled with floating violet motes, was cluttered with vials of alchemical ingredients, experimental apparatus, and stacks of books written in the tongues of countless races, piled high beside the blazing fireplace.
It was so chaotic that it was hard to believe this was her mother's chamber—her mother, who only ever surrounded herself with things rich and splendid.
But Talia, well accustomed to the scene, walked straight to her mother's desk. Reclining against a velvet-cushioned chair, Senevier was scanning a parchment scroll.
The fact that she didn't even look up made Talia's insides burn as if she had swallowed fire.
Leaning over the desk, she ground out through clenched teeth,
"Asros came to see me just now."
At last, those deep-blue eyes flicked toward her. Talia continued coldly,
"He said I'm going to be married soon."
"I didn't realize Asros took such interest in you," Senevier replied indifferently, setting down the parchment.
The way her mother's attention stayed fixed on her brother alone made Talia want to hurl things at random. She clutched at her skirts, forcing the violent impulse back down.
"Why do I have to hear about my own marriage from that boy? And what's this about me joining the pilgrimage? What are you plotting now?"
"Plotting? That's an unpleasant word."
Senevier let out a small sigh as she rose gracefully from her seat. Her every motion was flawless, elegant enough to steal one's breath—yet Talia watched with wary eyes, distrust curdling in her chest.
Then Senevier spoke in a bright, girlish tone,
"You're of age to be married, aren't you? A suitable proposal arrived at a suitable time, so I simply moved things along."
"That 'suitable' man—would that be that snake of a human, Count Serian?"
Talia sneered, recalling the slick, oily-faced man who had escorted her at the banquet.
"Of course you've already examined him thoroughly, haven't you, Mother?"
"If you're asking whether Serian is capable as a man… yes. He has considerable talent in that regard. He'll gladly devote himself to your needs."
The retort, more revolting than the jab she had meant as mockery, shattered what little composure Talia had left. Each word from her mother crawled across her skin like spiders.
She cried out, almost a scream,
"I don't need such a disgusting man! I'd sooner bite off my tongue and die than let him touch me!"
"Oh, my…"
Senevier covered her cheek with one hand and sighed as though regretful.
"Then I'll find you another husband. I was already compiling a list of other suitable candidates."
She gestured toward the parchment on the desk. Glancing at it, Talia recognized several names—and shuddered. Every single one of them was one of her mother's fanatical devotees.
So she intended to marry her off to one of the men who lusted after her?
Rage and fear boiled together inside Talia.
"I don't want to marry at all! Stop pretending to care—just leave me alone, the way you always have!"
"Ah… so what you mean is, you don't want anyone but the heir of Duke Siorcan?"
The sudden strike at her weakest point drained the color from Talia's face. She stumbled back.
Senevier's lips curled as her tongue lashed like a serpent.
"If you wanted him so badly, you should have done whatever it took to claim him. I gave you seven whole years with him by your side. And what exactly did you accomplish?"
She shook her head in mock pity.
"Now the man you desire will belong to another woman within months. Are you just going to stand by and watch?"
Talia's shoulders quivered. Her mother's words cut too precisely, as if she had seen straight through her.
After staring at her pale, trembling daughter, Senevier donned once more the mask of a loving mother. She softened her tone, coaxing like honey.
"Talia, all of this was for you. I only wish to give my precious daughter a path out of her miserable situation."
Her long, white fingers brushed against Talia's cheek, as soft and cold as a white serpent crawling across her skin. Talia froze, stiff with dread.
Looking deeply into her frightened face, Senevier whispered like a feather's touch,
"You have two paths before you. One—seize the man you want by any means necessary. The other—become a loser, yes, but one who suffers a little less."
Her gentle voice clung to Talia's ears, sticky as resin.
"I chose the first path, and I obtained everything I desired. But if you lack the ability, then you can at least choose another partner, fashion a life that looks almost as happy as the victor's. It's a pitiful compromise, yes, but better to preserve a scrap of dignity than to lose everything."
Talia tore herself away from her mother's touch like an animal escaping a snare.
Senevier only smiled sweetly.
"This journey will be your last chance. Think carefully about which path you'll choose."
Talia glared with defiance but then fled the workshop as though running from a predator. Behind her, a clear, birdlike laugh followed like a shadow—lodging itself deep in her mind, refusing to fade.
And so, Talia found herself joining her hated half-siblings on the journey.
Thanks to the Empress's household, everything necessary for the expedition had been arranged without her needing to lift a finger. Senevier even tried to assign her own personal guards and high-ranking magi as escorts.
But Crown Prince Gareth had fiercely opposed it. Already enraged at the prospect of traveling with the half-sister he despised, he would never tolerate bringing along the Empress's underlings as well.
Rumor had it Gareth had gone so far as to confront the Emperor directly in order to overturn Senevier's order.
For Talia, it was a welcome outcome. The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by her mother's zealots.
"For me? Don't make me laugh…"
As she watched the servants load luggage onto the carriage, Talia picked at a hangnail by her thumb, glaring.
Senevier would never go to such trouble out of concern for her. There had to be another scheme lurking behind it all.
Suspicion sharpened her gaze as she studied the servants sent from the Empress's Palace.
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