Chapter 2
Act 1. This Love Is Like a Curse
Talia stared into the mirror. The face she'd seen to the point of exhaustion since the day she was born looked back at her.
If there was any difference between her and it, it was that the girl in the mirror had an anxious, restless gaze and dry lips, instead of the elegant smile and strange, sensuous eyes the other woman possessed.
Glaring at her own reflection with a discontented expression, Talia turned to her nurse and asked,
"How do I look?"
"You look just like an angel, Your Highness."
The nurse, who had been steadily combing through her hair, answered with her eyes crinkled into crescents.
"You really do take after Lady Senevier. All dressed up like this, it's like seeing what Lady Senevier looked like at eighteen."
Talia roughly swatted away the plump hand fussing with her hair. The nurse's obliviousness—thinking that being told she resembled someone was a compliment—grated on her nerves.
"Enough with the brushing. Go get the dress."
The nurse waddled off toward the trunk, looking like a puppy that had been kicked.
Talia watched her with a displeased glare. How could someone be so slow-witted?
Whining as she rummaged through the trunk, the woman pulled out a red satin dress and glanced over at her cautiously.
"Look at this. It's the dress Lady Senevier wore the very first time she set foot in the palace. She must have had it prepared for you, Your Highness."
Talia made a sour face.
"You even remember what Mother wore that long ago?"
"Of course! How could I forget that day? Lady Senevier didn't seem like she belonged to this world. It brought tears to my eyes, just knowing someone so beautiful could exist. Even His Majesty the Emperor couldn't tear his eyes away from her."
The nurse sighed, her expression hazy, as though lost in a daydream.
Talia swallowed a hollow laugh. Did this woman actually think their meeting was some grand romance of the century?
At the time, the Emperor already had an Empress he'd been married to for six years—who was, in fact, about to give birth. Senevier and the Emperor's affair had been nothing more than sordid infidelity—nothing less, nothing more.
Even after the former Empress Bernadette died and Senevier officially became Empress, people never forgot. As long as Talia existed, people would never forget the shameless sin they had committed.
Swallowing down the sarcasm rising in her throat, Talia snatched the dress from the nurse's hands.
"If you have time for pointless chatter, finish getting me ready instead."
"Of course. Let me take care of everything."
The nurse dressed her in a beautiful velvet bliaut.
Talia looked into the mirror again as she arranged her hair. Wearing her mother's dress, she looked even more like her.
Was that ominously deep aura of sensuality beginning to bloom within herself too? Talia stared intently at the curve of her chest rising above the deep square neckline.
No one could call it dignified, but no one could deny it was undeniably alluring either.
Out of habit, Talia brought her fingers to her lips, then quickly pulled her hand away, worried about smudging her makeup. Today, more than any other day, she wanted to look beautiful. If possible, she wanted to look even more beautiful than her mother.
I want everyone to look at me. I want no one to even glance at Aila.
A fierce hunger settled over the deep blue eyes reflected in the mirror. It wasn't the kind of gaze befitting an imperial princess. It was the kind of look a beggar on the street might have.
Talia picked up the candlestick from the table and struck the woman in the mirror without mercy. With a jarring crash, spiderweb-like cracks spread across the mirror's surface. The nurse, who had been adjusting the hem of her skirt, jumped back in shock and fell to the floor.
Talia flung the candlestick to the ground and said coldly,
"I'm sick of that mirror. Bring me a new one."
The nurse looked up at her, face drained white, then pressed her lips together and rose to her feet. As though nothing had happened, she draped a lavish fur-trimmed coat over Talia's shoulders.
Talia glared at her own reflection, shattered into dozens of pieces across the mirror's surface, then spun on her heel.
Stepping out of the room, she saw the guard knight Senevier had sent standing rigidly to one side of the corridor. Ignoring the man, whose face had flushed bright red as he looked at her, she descended the stairs.
In front of the annex, a gilded four-horse carriage and eight guards were waiting. It seemed Senevier didn't want her eldest daughter looking shabby.
You just want me to make your political enemies uncomfortable, don't you.
She twisted her lips into a cynical smile as she climbed into the carriage. Just then, the new guard knight who'd stepped forward to close the door spoke, as though forcing out something burning lodged in his throat.
"Today... you truly are beautiful, Your Highness."
At the yearning in his voice, every fine hair on her body stood on end for a moment.
Talia shot him a sharp glare. She had no need for this man's flattery.
"Skip the pointless talk and just go."
The man closed the door, his face flushed with embarrassment.
Soon after, the carriage began to move. She sank deep into her seat, gazing up at the blood-red sky through the gently swaying curtains.
Wouldn't it be nice if tonight's banquet turned that same color. I hope a huge commotion breaks out and ruins everything.
She absently toyed with her lips, then quickly pulled her hand down when she noticed red dye smudged on her fingertip.
Her nerves felt raw, on edge. In contrast to her mood, only beautiful melodies and brilliant lights spilled out from the main palace.
Stepping down from the carriage, Talia surveyed the wide path leading to the banquet hall and the lavishly decorated gardens, her brow furrowing. Hundreds of nobles in silk garments filed one after another up the marble steps and into the main hall.
Ignoring the knight assigned to escort her, she walked straight toward the entrance of the banquet hall. Those who recognized her naturally cleared a path.
It was only natural. The imperial palace was her home. She had not the slightest intention of waiting in line like the other guests.
Talia spoke calmly to the flustered attendant.
"I've come to celebrate my siblings' birthday."
The attendant's eyes went wide.
Talia snapped irritably,
"What are you doing standing there instead of announcing my arrival?"
Only then did the man scramble to step aside by the pillar and call out loudly,
"Her Highness the Second Princess, Talia Roem Girta, is entering!"
For a moment, an icy silence filled the grand hall.
She stepped into the magnificent banquet hall bathed in golden light, lifting her chin high. She could feel hundreds of pairs of sharp eyes raking over her from head to toe.
Talia quietly savored their shock, anger, bewilderment, and the reluctant admiration they couldn't suppress, taking light, graceful steps forward. People drew back from her like a tide pulling away.
Like I've become some kind of plague.
Talia murmured to herself with a malicious smile.
Just then, someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
"What brings you here?"
She looked up, staring straight at the man's face. He was one of the countless dazed men who worshipped her esteemed half-sister, Aila.
Talia deliberately curved her lips into a sultry smile. She'd watched her mother enchant men this way thousands of times.
"Is there somewhere I'm not allowed to go?"
The man's face, which had gone rigid with wariness, flushed red. He stepped back a pace, flustered.
Talia closed the distance even further than he'd retreated, lifting her chin high.
"This is my father's palace, and tonight's banquet is for my siblings. So what exactly is the problem with me being here?"
When she met his eyes directly, the man froze as though paralyzed.
She could see his large nostrils flaring. He seemed to be catching the scent of the rose oil the nurse had painstakingly worked into her hair, strand by strand.
His eyes grew hazy, as if he were drunk on strong liquor, and she felt a strange satisfaction and a deep revulsion wash over her at the same time. Talia walked past the man, who could only tremble his lips like a fool, unable to say another word, and made her way toward the center of the hall.
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