Chapter 10
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After that outburst of chaos, Talia began keeping entirely to the annex.
But thanks to the maids, who chattered nonstop as though they'd forgotten how to keep their mouths shut, she learned that the boy who'd attacked her was the Crown Prince of the empire—her own half-brother. And that the dark-haired girl she'd seen in the birch grove that day was her half-sister.
She also learned that it had been barely six months since the two of them had lost their mother.
Which meant that she and Senevier had entered the imperial family a mere three weeks after the former Empress Bernadette's death.
Worse, the moment Senevier arrived at the palace, she'd wasted no time erasing every trace of the former Empress.
It occurred to Talia that the small garden behind the main palace might have been one of Bernadette's remaining traces—one her mother simply hadn't gotten around to destroying yet.
She looked out the window.
Summer rain poured down over the garden her mother had so carefully redesigned. The plants in the garden, heavy with moisture and thick with the smell of grass, felt somehow monstrous to her.
She drew the curtains shut. Then, curling up on her bed, she found herself replaying the Crown Prince's hate-filled eyes, and her half-sister's face, gone white with terror. And the blue-eyed boy too, who had wrapped his arms protectively around her and glared back at Talia...
"Barkas Raedgo Sirchan..."
She murmured his name blankly, staring up at the ceiling.
She'd finally learned the boy's name, but it brought her no joy at all. Because she now understood, with total clarity, that he would never smile at her.
The former Empress Bernadette had come from House Oristein, one of the noble houses of Osiria, but her own mother had been a lady from House Sirchan. That made the late Empress and Barkas distant relatives.
Even more than that, she had apparently looked after Barkas herself, with genuine warmth, when he first came to the palace at a young age to begin his rigorous education. It was entirely possible that he thought of Senevier as a mortal enemy.
And me too...
Remembering the icy look in his eyes as he'd stared at her, Talia felt, for the first time, resentment toward being Senevier's daughter. Even the face she'd always been proud of—the one that resembled her mother's so closely—now felt like a source of shame.
Talia didn't want to feel that way.
I'm the one who got beaten half to death. Why should I be the one who feels guilty?
It was the Crown Prince who had done something wrong.
I really didn't know anything. What did I even do wrong? I'm not a bad person. I never did anything bad.
Talia repeated that to herself over and over. But whenever she found herself surrounded by the servants' icy stares, those thoughts vanished entirely.
Talia understood perfectly well what their rough treatment of her meant.
Bringing ice-cold bathwater and scrubbing her skin raw until it turned red. Deliberately pricking her skin with pins whenever they changed her clothes. Combing her hair so violently it left cuts on her scalp. Serving her cold, congealed food at every single meal. All of it was their own private form of punishment against her.
She'd known she was hated. But things hadn't been all that different back at House Taren, so she hadn't thought much of it.
Whenever she'd felt small and defeated, Senevier used to wrap her in both arms and whisper that she was the product of true love, that it didn't matter what anyone else said. Talia had believed those words and always tried to carry herself with confidence.
But now, her mother wasn't there beside her anymore, and all that surrounded her now were whispers—about how kind and gentle the former Empress had been, about how much suffering she'd endured before she died.
Talia grew visibly withdrawn. The chin she'd always held high now shrank inward, turtle-like, and her eyes naturally dropped to the floor. And the servants, sensing that change all too keenly, only grew crueler. With neither the Emperor nor even Senevier paying her any particular attention, whatever fear they'd once had of punishment for mistreating her seemed to have vanished entirely.
To them, Talia had never truly been an imperial princess to begin with. She was nothing more than the woman who had broken the heart of Bernadette—the Empress they had faithfully served for so long—living proof of a filthy affair.
Every time she walked down a corridor, Talia could hear them whispering about her like that. It felt like it might drive her out of her mind. Every time she overheard something spoken against her, a wave of injustice and fury would rise up in her.
But then she'd think that, given how much suffering her very existence had caused so many people, perhaps this much misery was something she deserved to bear. Still, their torment eventually escalated to a level she simply couldn't endure.
It happened around two seasons after she'd come to the imperial palace. Coming down to the dining hall for breakfast that morning, Talia was gripped by a strange unease.
That day, an unusually large number of servants had come out to attend to her. Seeing the row of maids lined up along the wall, she felt an ominous premonition that something was about to happen.
But contrary to what she'd expected, the servants were courteous, and an especially large spread of food had been laid out on the table. Talia stared at the silver plates as though hypnotized.
A kitchen maid brought out freshly baked, golden-brown bread and butter instead of the usual stale, hardened loaf, and soon after, roasted quail and a steaming hot stew were set down in front of her.
For months now, she'd been eating nothing but terrible food. Seeing a hearty, hot stew full of ingredients, instead of the usual watery, cold soup, nearly brought embarrassing tears to her eyes.
Talia glanced around at the servants. Dozens of pairs of eyes were watching for her reaction.
Maybe they've finally given up wanting to punish me. Maybe they've decided to forgive my existence and show me some kindness after all.
Talia picked up her spoon. She scooped up a spoonful of the steaming broth and brought it to her mouth. The flavors of butter, milk, and various vegetables, along with a soft sweetness, spread through her mouth.
The taste of a warm meal, after so long, brought on an intense hunger. Forgetting all decorum, she began eating greedily, spoonful after spoonful.
She wasn't sure how many spoonfuls she'd had when she suddenly noticed a very strange taste. It was far too foul to simply be the smell of meat that the spices hadn't quite masked. She frowned and stared hard into the stew.
Just then, she heard stifled giggling from behind her.
Talia whipped her head around. The maids all stood there, expressionless, eyes lowered. But Talia could clearly see the corners of their mouths twitching. A cold sweat instantly beaded along her spine.
After hesitating for a long moment, Talia stirred through the bowl with her spoon. Pushing aside the large chunks of stew, she saw something heavy, like a lump of meat, sunk at the very bottom of the bowl. No—it wasn't a lump of meat.
Talia lifted the dark, discolored thing out with her spoon and froze in shock. Bloated and swollen in the thick broth, a gray rat lay there, its mouth hanging open. She couldn't even scream.
She toppled off her chair and vomited the stew onto the floor. Even after bringing up far more than she'd eaten, the retching wouldn't stop.
The foul smell filling her nose only grew stronger. It felt like the taste of the dead rat had stuck to the tip of her tongue and would never go away.
She jabbed her fingers down her throat and scraped at her tongue, forcing out whatever was left to bring up, even after nothing more would come.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there on the floor, retching, before, through tear-blurred vision, she saw a pair of feet moving around the table.
Talia lifted her head blankly. The kitchen maid was calmly clearing the plates away, as though nothing at all had happened. The other servants bustled busily around the table too, clearing dishes and wiping it down. As though her collapsed body, sprawled in her own vomit, wasn't even there to be seen...
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