Chapter 49
----------------------------------------------------------------- Translator: Diva Chapter: 49 Chapter Title: Mockery at the Campfire -----------------------------------------------------------------
Why on earth would waking up in the dead of night make her jolt like that?
She took deep breaths, struggling to calm her wildly pounding heart. But the suffocating sensation only intensified.
Talia, forcing air into her constricted airways with great difficulty, could no longer bear the oppression and rose from her seat.
Her splinted leg throbbed in protest, but with her breath catching in her throat, she had no time to worry about it. Talia practically tumbled out of the carriage, mouth gaping wide to gulp down air as she staggered forward.
Soon, she spotted flickering light not far away. Feeling relief spread deep in her chest, she dragged her spasming, stiff legs toward the large tent where a bonfire blazed.
At that moment, a mocking, cheerful voice carried on the wind.
"It's divine punishment."
Talia halted abruptly.
The woman sitting by the fire prodded the logs with a long stick, blabbering loudly.
"Everyone knows it. That woman cursed Her Highness the 1st Princess. And she barged into her birthday banquet to cause a scene!"
The maid's voice rose with excitement.
Talia peered closely at the face illuminated by the firelight. The unfamiliar features suggested she served Aila or Gares.
The maid took a sip from her cup, then launched back into her chatter with glee.
"It has to be the gods' judgment. Her own curse bounced right back at her—total self-inflicted karma!"
"I heard she might end up crippled. Is that true?"
"High chance! A maid serving the 2nd Princess said the leg bone was shattered into pieces, like a puzzle they had to reassemble for hours."
Talia flinched and glanced down at her own leg.
The woman's voice dropped a notch.
"And some horrific scar on her body too, they say? The skin's all twisted up—can't even fix it neatly with magic. Apparently it's all mottled and gross."
"Guess we won't have to watch that woman strut around the palace like she owns the place anymore."
"Yeah. Her one claim to pride's ruined now! Who could swagger around with a body like that?"
Snickers erupted from all around, full of schadenfreude.
Talia, standing there in a daze, dragged her feet behind the woman.
Those who spotted her shadow went pale. But the chattering woman, lost in her thrill, hadn't noticed her yet and kept yapping.
"Her marriage prospects are as good as dead now. What house would take in a bastard-born cripple... Eek!"
The woman shrieked as Talia suddenly grabbed her by the hair.
Ignoring her, Talia yanked hard on the tightly braided locks. The woman's face drained of color upon seeing who it was, shock and terror washing over her.
Talia looked down at her and smirked faintly.
"Why'd you stop talking?"
"Y-Your Highness..."
"What's a bastard-born cripple got to be scared of?"
The woman's eyes flew wide. Her lips, smirking just moments ago, now quivered with ragged sobs.
"I-I'm sorry, Your Highness. I-I've committed a grave sin..."
"What sin did you commit?"
"I-I..."
Her lips trembled violently as she forced out the words.
"I insulted Her Highness the Princess with my irreverent tongue. P-Please, mercifully f-forgive..."
"If you've done wrong, you take the punishment. Why are you begging for forgiveness first?"
The woman's face had turned ashen gray.
Talia stared down at her pallid features, then turned to scan those gathered around the fire.
The maids, frozen like mice before a snake, bowed low. Spotting a knight among them, tense and rigid, Talia nodded curtly at him.
"You. Come here."
The knight hesitated before approaching with reluctant steps.
Talia dragged the woman down by her hair, forcing her to kneel before the knight.
"She insulted royalty with her three-inch tongue. Time she paid the price. Draw your sword and do your duty."
The knight's shoulders stiffened visibly.
Sobs wracked the woman, on the verge of hyperventilating. The knight gazed down darkly, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed deeply.
"Your Highness, we're short-staffed as it is, preparing funerals and tending the wounded. Executing her now would cause unnecessary uproar and unrest. Please, quell your anger..."
"Are you defying my order right now?"
The knight clamped his mouth shut and bowed even deeper.
Talia let out a scornful laugh at his silent assent, then twisted her face in fury.
"If you won't, I will."
She shoved the woman's hair away roughly and lunged at the knight. Startled by the unexpected move, he instinctively grabbed her shoulder. Talia glared at him with rage-filled eyes.
"How dare you lay hands on me!"
He yanked his hand back as if burned. Seizing the moment, Talia snatched the sword hilt at his waist.
But the knights' longswords were heavier than expected, and her legs were too weak to even support her own weight. As she drew the blade, Talia lost her balance and collapsed to the ground.
A dreadful silence fell over the unseemly spectacle.
Talia clutched her convulsing leg and looked up.
The knight and maids filled her vision with stony faces.
Old memories churned in her mind. Dozens of cold eyes staring down at her, sprawled helplessly in her own vomit. The shame, humiliation, and primal fear from that day reignited, scorching her brain.
With trembling hands, she pushed off the ground and jerked her upper body upright. She wanted to leap to her feet and assert her dignity and authority as a princess, but her legs wouldn't budge.
As Talia struggled to right her disobedient legs, she spotted the woman nearby, staring blankly at her. Her face hardened.
The woman who had mocked her was now watching her crawl on the ground.
She couldn't allow that.
Groping the dirt, Talia snatched a burning log from the fire. Searing heat blistered her fingers, but no physical pain could surpass the agony of her crushed pride.
She swung the glowing log at the woman's face.
A guttural scream pierced the air.
Not satisfied, she reared back for another swing when a dark shadow burst from the darkness and scooped her up.
Talia thrashed like a wild beast. Then she caught a familiar scent and froze. Barkas, holding her effortlessly in one arm, looked down at her with icy eyes.
Trapped in that gaze, she panted harshly as he pried the log from her hand and tossed it away. Just like with the sword before, he'd taken her weapon again.
Rage boiled up inside her.
This man never truly stood by her side.
He wouldn't fight for her, yet he wouldn't let her defend herself either.