Because she had long since driven away everyone sent from the main palace, fewer than ten maids remained in service at the annex. Even those she forbade from coming too close, so the number of attendants she could actually take along could be counted on one hand.
For that reason, Talia now found herself in the miserable position of having to travel surrounded by servants sent by Senevier.
If it were up to her temper, she would have dismissed them all.
But when she saw Gareth and Ayla each flaunting their royal grandeur, accompanied by hundreds of retainers and servants, she couldn't bring herself to appear that pitiful.
She bit her lip irritably, glaring at the crowd gathered around the Crown Prince's and the First Princess's carriages.
For years, she had refused to let anyone but Barkas and her old nanny come near her.
She couldn't bear the thought of keeping people close when she never knew when—or how—they might try to trample her.
But now, as her half-siblings paraded their massive entourages and she imagined herself traveling with only three or four attendants, her stomach twisted with humiliation.
In the end, Talia had no choice but to accept the maids Senevier had sent.
Even so, she couldn't relax for a moment. She had no idea what schemes those people might be plotting behind her back.
She watched their every movement closely, as though inspecting each breath they took while loading her luggage.
Then, a hesitant male voice broke through the tension nearby.
"Your Highness… are you truly planning to bring all of these belongings?"
She looked up sharply at the man who had approached her.
Not long ago, she had dismissed the idiotic royal guard who'd made a fool of himself before the Crown Prince—and this new knight, assigned in his place, seemed to have no sense of propriety either.
He spoke to her far too casually for her liking, and that alone annoyed her.
With a cold gaze, Talia asked,
"Do you have a problem with my luggage?"
"I understand your wish to maintain royal dignity, Your Highness," the knight replied carefully, scratching his head. "But isn't this a bit much? Hundreds of dresses, expensive jewelry… Unless you intend to change five times a day, most of this seems unnecessary."
"You clearly don't understand," she shot back. "I do plan to change ten times a day if I please. Riding all day will leave me covered in dust. I have no intention of wearing filthy clothes for even a moment."
"Ah… I didn't mean—"
The knight gave an awkward laugh, realizing too late that she wasn't joking.
Ignoring him completely, Talia turned and walked toward her carriage.
At the end of the long procession stood her own—nearly as large and magnificent as the Crown Prince's. The doors and roof gleamed with gold and ivory, and inside was a seat wide enough to serve as a bed, layered with thick woolen felt and silk cushions.
She climbed up and swept aside the curtains behind the seat, revealing a surprisingly spacious dressing area and a large storage cabinet.
Opening the drawers connected to the luggage compartment, she inspected them one by one. She had brought only her finest dresses—those made of the most luxurious fabrics—and every piece of jewelry she owned. Yet nothing seemed good enough.
If she wanted to outshine Ayla, this wouldn't do.
Grinding her lip between her teeth, she rummaged through the drawers in frustration.
I should have stolen the diamond necklace Senevier got from the Emperor.
Or better yet, she thought bitterly, I should've taken Mother's entire jewelry chest.
Senevier clearly wanted her to ruin Ayla's engagement. That was why she'd provoked her so blatantly.
If Talia had asked to borrow her jewels to achieve that goal, her mother would probably have handed them over gladly.
Maybe I should go back to the Empress's Palace now.
As she stared anxiously down at the open drawer, Talia made up her mind and stepped down from the carriage—only to stop dead in her tracks.
Through the soldiers, she caught sight of a familiar figure wearing the uniform of the Roem Knights.
Barkas.
She froze in place.
There were over a hundred and fifty men in the same uniform gathered in the courtyard, but to Talia, there was only him.
Her gaze clung to him—his straight back, his broad shoulders, the faint light in his ash-gold hair.
Barkas strode across the courtyard with disciplined precision, giving orders to his subordinates.
He was probably inspecting the formation before departure.
Talia swallowed dryly. The closer he drew, the sharper the ache in her throat—like swallowing a handful of glass.
Finally, his cold eyes—moving methodically from one end of the procession to the other—fell upon her carriage.
Even from that distance, she could see his brow crease slightly. The same expression he always wore when looking at her.
That icy, unyielding face that never failed to wound her… it was coming closer.
"Still not finished with your preparations?"
Barkas didn't even look at her as he rebuked her knight.
The flustered knight scratched his head.
"As you can see, sir, we may need another wagon just for Her Highness's luggage."
Barkas's pale blue eyes turned toward the servants struggling to cram mountains of baggage into the carriage. Annoyance flickered faintly across his otherwise impassive face.
At last, his gaze reached her.
"This convoy will pass through six major cities," he said coolly. "You can resupply anything you need along the way. Remove the unnecessary baggage."
Talia lifted her chin defiantly.
"No. How do you know what I'll need?"
"Judging by the contents, I'd say it's nothing but dresses and jewelry."
His tone was dry as dust.
"The northwest is full of thriving trade cities. You'll have plenty of chances to buy whatever you like there. But spare the servants the exhaustion before we've even departed."
Talia gave a harsh laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous. You just want to make me look like some frivolous princess wasting away in luxury during a holy pilgrimage—so I'll look bad next to Ayla, isn't that it? You think I'll fall for that?"
"When have you ever cared about your reputation?"
His lips twitched in disbelief, the faintest hint of mockery.
"No one in the Empire would ever place you and the First Princess on the same scale, Your Highness. You can stop worrying about comparisons."
That was the last thing Talia ever wanted to hear from his mouth.
Her face flushed hot with fury as she raised her hand to strike him.
But Barkas, of course, didn't just stand there. He caught her wrist swiftly, his grip unyielding, and gave a sharp tilt of his chin toward the servants.
"Leave only what's essential. Unload the rest. We depart in one hour—make it quick."
"You dare—!"
Talia struggled to wrench her arm free, shouting in outrage, but he didn't budge an inch.
Seething, she lashed out and kicked him hard in the shin.
"How dare you tell me what I can or can't take! Do you think you're something special already? You're not the Grand Duke yet! You're just a knight—a mere guard of the imperial family! How dare a lowly soldier—!"
"What are you all standing around for?"
He ignored her completely, his voice turning to cold command as his gaze swept over the hesitant servants. Startled, they scrambled to obey, hurriedly unloading her baggage from the carriage.
No clearer proof could exist of how little authority her title carried compared to his.
Even as a "princess," her orders meant nothing beside those of the imperial guard commander—and the heir of the East's ducal house.
Talia's eyes blazed with fury as she watched the servants. Then she lost control. She lunged at one of the maids.
"Take your filthy hands off my things! If a single item goes missing, I'll hang you all by the necks—!"
Her words were cut off.
Barkas had grabbed her, lifted her effortlessly into the air, and shoved her back into the carriage as though she were nothing more than a troublesome package.
Talia fell onto the seat, her face flushed crimson with rage.
Barkas was a man utterly devoted to the royal family. He would never dare lay a hand on Ayla.
He treated her like this only because he didn't see her as one of them—a true royal.
The humiliation burned hot behind her eyes.
The man who always bowed with perfect grace to her sister treated her with nothing but contempt.
It was unbearable.
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