Chapter 25
----------------------------------------------------------------- Translator: Diva Chapter: 25 Chapter Title: Uninvited Provocation -----------------------------------------------------------------
“I am always thinking of Your Highness.”
Barkas spoke in a tone so polite it was impossible to nitpick.
“Her Highness the Princess is resting comfortably, so there’s no need for concern. Please don’t take offense.”
He shot Barkas an irritated glare before striding into the spacious hall. Getting worked up over this stone of a man would only make him look ridiculous.
He clicked his tongue lightly as he crossed the hall, which was decorated every bit as splendidly as a noble’s banquet venue.
“Thank you for attending, Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
As he approached the long table draped in a pristine white cloth, the abbot sprang to his feet to greet him.
“Please, have a seat here.”
Gares took the spot the abbot had vacated and surveyed the table. The abbot showed not the slightest intent to mimic a life of poverty. The broad table was laden with silver cutlery, golden goblets, and lavish dishes seasoned with all manner of spices.
Gares swept his satisfied gaze over it all before nodding to the dozen or so priests seated around the table.
“Such a warm welcome—my thanks. Now, take your seats.”
No sooner had he spoken than the monks drew back their chairs and sat in unison. Only Barkas, present as his guard, stood silently behind him like a shadow.
Curious glances darted his way. They seemed taken aback by the Imperial Knight Commander’s striking appearance.
Gares furrowed his brow ever so slightly.
Barkas always drew more attention than necessary, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. Even so, Gares felt a flicker of annoyance that people were focusing more on Barkas than on him.
It was a tiresome ritual whenever he had this man in tow, but the irritation refused to fade.
Striving to hide his displeasure, he hoisted his goblet high.
“Let us give thanks to the abbot for arranging this delightful gathering.”
The priests’ eyes turned back to him. Savoring the moment, Gares paused before continuing measuredly.
“Hoping this time holds deep meaning for all...”
As he moved to wrap up his toast with polished words, a golden specter intruded into his view. Gares froze, staring blankly at the hall entrance.
For an instant, he thought it was that nightmare of a woman, Senevia.
He gripped the goblet fiercely and raked his half-sister from head to toe. Ignoring even the basic monastery rule of simple garb, Talia Roem Guirta was dressed in finery flashy enough to turn heads at an imperial banquet—vulgar and tawdry to boot.
He ground his teeth in contempt. Talia sauntered toward the table, her still-unripe curves brazenly outlined beneath the sheer dress fabric.
The monks looked ready to keel over. Some gawked with mouths hanging open, utterly entranced. Gares surged to his feet, anger overwhelming him.
“How dare you... Do you have any idea where you are, showing up like that!”
Bang. Wine sloshed over from the slammed goblet. He jabbed an accusing finger without bothering to wipe his soaked hand.
“Didn’t you hear the warning not to cross my path?”
“Ah, of course I did.”
The wench pulled out the chair right beside him as if it were the most natural thing and sat, a coquettish smile playing on her lips.
“How could I stay put when my brother misses me so? Unable to resist the great Crown Prince’s plea, I even dressed up with special care.”
With that, she smoothed her skirt with one hand in brazen display. He gaped at his half-sister in disbelief.
“What nonsense is this...”
“Surely you know my wayward nature better than anyone... Sending the Imperial Knight Commander himself with that message—didn’t it mean you were dying to see your little sister?”
Her pure cobalt eyes narrowed with sly allure.
“When the Crown Prince begs so earnestly, a sister has to rise to the occasion.”
He summoned every shred of his meager self-control to keep from slapping her face. As if to goad him further, Talia drawled on.
“Ah, seeing your face up close like this feels so good. Are you happy too, brother?”
“...I was. Right up until you appeared.”
She burst into laughter at his teeth-grinding retort.
“Then the weary journey was worth it.”
Gares clamped his jaw until it ached. Every time this wench laughed like that, the urge to smash her eerily beautiful face surged uncontrollably. His shoulders quivered as he crushed his fist with brutal force, spitting out each word like chewed gristle.
“How much longer do you plan to push your luck? Testing how far my patience stretches?”
“Why such hurtful words...”
She propped an elbow on the table and leaned in at an angle. Chandelier light cascaded over her heartbreakingly frail shoulders and jutting wingbones. The monks’ gazes cascaded toward her exquisite form, carved as if from ivory.
Serpentine bitch. Intense loathing swept over him; he rasped breaths through clenched teeth. Sensing his rage at its zenith, Talia’s lip curled sharply upward.
“I only answered the invitation. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to make you fume like this. Don’t you think it’s too much for such a sweet little sister?”
She turned to the abbot across from her, as if seeking his assent. His face stiffened in flustered confusion at the abrupt query. Delighted by his naive response, she curved her eyes seductively. Revulsion boiled up at her harlot’s coquetry. He seized her arm in a rough grip.
“Looks like you’re in heat. Need a bedmate? Pick one from your attendants. Don’t toy with the monks... If you taint the imperial name with your filthy scandal, I’ll make sure that pretty face stays hidden for life.”
Her eyes flashed at the vicious threat.
“And just what will you do?”
Talia cocked her head aggressively, as if spoiling for a fight, and spat back fiercely.
“Hearing you talk like that makes me itch to meet your expectations.”
He could endure no more. He lunged to twist her slender neck.
In that instant, a heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Your Highness.”
Gares whipped his head up. Barkas Raedgo Sheerkhan gazed down at him with a serene expression.
The impassive face he’d seen endlessly before, devoid of any emotional trace. Yet for a split second, Gares felt menaced. Impossible though it was.
“Everyone awaits your toast.”
He bore down hard on Gares’ shoulder, as if urging him not to take Talia’s bait.
Gares slapped the hand away roughly. His fingertips trembled with the itch of unspent violence.
Clenching his fist to conceal it, he glared at the wench’s alluring face.
Talia Roem Guirta was set on riling him deliberately. He couldn’t let her drag him under. Chanting that to himself, he quelled his seething fury and flung her arm aside. Snatching up his goblet once more, he bellowed in theatrical exaggeration.
“We’ve squandered time on pointless squabbling. Now, let’s dine. Once again, my thanks to the abbot for this splendid occasion... May today prove meaningful for all.”
The monks, who had warily eyed the crown prince, the bastard princess, and the Imperial Knight Commander looming behind, hesitantly lifted their goblets. Talia Roem Guirta alone watched the scene with a mocking smirk, arms crossed.
As her defiant posture reignited his ire, Barkas leaned over her head.
“Please show basic courtesy as a guest, Your Highness the Princess.”
With that, he gently pried open her hand and placed the silver goblet in it. Talia went rigid at the unexpected touch, then fixed him with a venomous glare.
Gares figured she’d hurl the goblet at him on the spot. From childhood clashes onward, she’d always had it in for Barkas like no other.
But against his prediction, Talia—who had bristled like a furious cat—straightened up at once. He narrowed his eyes. Yielding to such a warning was utterly unlike Talia Roem Guirta. The girl who always rampaged without restraint should have foamed and pounced under Barkas’s pressure—that would have been her true colors.
What scheme is she brewing?