He glanced between his superior's cold back and the citizens' scornful eyes, then let out a heavy sigh and spurred his horse forward.
The Second Princess, who had shut herself up in the carriage as if staging a silent protest, finally emerged only when the procession had left the capital and stopped by the riverside for rest.
The servants, who were busy pitching tents and preparing the camp, turned toward Talia with uneasy looks.
It hadn't been an exaggeration when she said she would change outfits several times a day.
She was no longer wearing the gown from the palace but a silk dress embroidered with golden thread.
Around her slender white neck hung a necklace worth enough to buy a castle,
and on her delicate wrists—thin as birch branches—sparkled diamond-studded bracelets.
Seeing her from a distance, Edric wore a dumbfounded expression.
They were about to eat dinner and settle for the night—what possible reason could she have for dressing up like that?
He already felt drained just thinking about it.
Swallowing a sigh, he handed his horse's reins to a squire and approached the princess.
She turned her head, her eyes sharp and hostile the moment they met his.
For a second, Edric's throat tightened.
Bathed in the light of the setting sun, Talia looked as though she were made of fire and gold.
Her wheat-colored hair billowed in the strong river wind, forming a halo of shimmering waves around her face,
and her flawless skin gleamed with a pale, marble-like glow even amidst the fiery sunset.
Without realizing it, he took a step back.
Everything about her seemed too delicate—as if she might shatter at any moment, scattering sharp, glittering fragments in all directions.
He swallowed dryly, seized by a strange and chilling premonition, when her crimson lips parted to release a sharp, irritable voice.
"I don't like this place. Move the camp somewhere else."
The absurdity of the command snapped him out of his daze.
He stiffened his back.
This woman was nothing but a poisonous mushroom wrapped in beauty.
Let your guard down around her, and you'd pay dearly for it.
He forced his voice into a formal, detached tone.
"This campsite was chosen by the Royal Guard for safety reasons. We cannot relocate at this stage."
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
Her gaze was like a blade of ice.
"I ordered the camp to be moved. Your only job is to obey!"
He had to pause and take a breath to summon what little patience he had left.
"All decisions regarding this expedition fall under Sir Barcas Sierkan's authority.
As I said, we cannot leave formation without permission."
"So you mean, it's fine as long as Barcas agrees?"
She cut him off mid-sentence and turned away immediately.
It was clear she had been looking for an excuse to confront Sir Sierkan from the start.
Edric hurried after her, baffled that anyone could be so desperate to cause trouble on the very first day of the journey.
With a few long strides, he overtook her.
"What exactly is it about this place that displeases Your Highness so much?"
"Everything. I hate all of it."
Her steps were quick and clipped.
"I hate being near the water, and I hate being near the forest.
There must be bugs crawling everywhere!"
"Your Highness, how can we camp without a water source nearby?
And besides, griffons and harpies have been sighted in these parts.
The forest acts as a natural barrier in case of a monster attack—"
"Safety? Don't make me laugh! I've already been bitten twice by insects!
If I spend the night here, vermin will devour my skin!
And those noises from the forest—how am I supposed to sleep with birds screeching and leaves rustling all night?"
Edric stared at her in disbelief.
Even a spoiled five-year-old wouldn't throw a tantrum like this.
He struggled desperately to suppress his irritation.
"We'll be camping for several days. It's best if Your Highness starts getting used to it now—"
"Or we could just move the camp!
Why should I have to endure something I dislike?"
Her shrill voice pierced the air as she stormed straight through the camp like a racing horse.
He clenched his fists to stop himself from grabbing her by force.
"Everyone's exhausted after a full day's march.
We can't dismantle the tents and find a new site just because Your Highness feels inconvenienced.
Enough of this nonsense—please return to your carriage and rest."
He stepped in front of her, his tone firm and commanding.
Her frighteningly beautiful face twisted faintly—
then came a sharp crack, and a stinging pain flared across his right cheek.
He glared at her, eyes dark.
He'd expected the possibility of a slap when he was assigned as her escort,
but even so, it felt far worse than he had imagined.
"How dare you give me orders."
She seized him by the collar, pulling his face close as she hissed between her teeth.
"I am the Emperor's daughter, and you exist to serve my convenience.
If I tell you to walk all night, then you walk until dawn—that is your duty.
So keep your insolent mouth shut and get out of my sight."
She shoved him hard and strode along the riverbank once more.
Edric's jaw tightened as he stared at her small, retreating back.
Part of him wanted to throw her over his shoulder, just as his superior once had,
and hurl her back into her carriage.
But unlike Sir Barcas, he didn't have the kind of protection that would save him from punishment for laying hands on a royal.
He watched her silhouette grow smaller and smaller, then exhaled a bitter sigh.
Can I really endure that wicked woman's tantrums for the rest of this journey?
Even thinking about it made the back of his neck throb.
As Talia walked along the riverbank, she could feel the prickle of stares on her back.
She shot a sharp look over her shoulder, and those who had been watching her flinched and turned away, pretending to be busy.
It wasn't an unusual reaction.
People had always treated her like a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.
But today, those furtive glances felt… different.
I'm sure of it. Some of them must be Senebier's spies.
She scrutinized each of her attendants one by one.
In fact, they all might be.
If it were her mother, she wouldn't put it past her.
Her thoughts began to spiral.
Senebier had spent years undermining Gareth's political base.
Perhaps this time, she meant to eliminate every obstacle standing in her son's way.
Talia's heartbeat turned uneven.
If her mother's target was Gareth or Aila, she wouldn't care—
she might even help her, if necessary.
But if, by any chance, Barcas was the one Senebier intended to strike…
The thought made her breath quicken.
Her eyes darted anxiously over the rows of military tents.
No—she had to move her campsite.
If she created enough physical distance, it would be harder for her mother's spies to make a move during the night.
She quickened her pace.
Soon, she spotted Torq, Barcas's beloved warhorse, tied in front of a large tent.
Ignoring the gray stallion's snort of recognition, she swept past it and stepped into the dim interior.
The tent was immaculate, like a temple.
Candles flickered faintly, illuminating an ornate chest and a rack displaying polished armor.
Her eyes followed the line of light until they caught a dark shadow behind the screen.
Without hesitation, she strode forward.
"I want my camp moved elsewhere. But apparently, my oh-so-dutiful knight says I can't go anywhere without Sir Sierkan's permission.
It seems your subordinates believe the commander of the Roem Knights outranks royalty.
How pathetic, that the Imperial Guard no longer understands the order of hierarchy—"
She swept the screen aside mid-sentence, continuing her tirade—
and froze.
Barcas was standing there, shirtless, wiping the water from his face with a towel.
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