The Forgotten Field - Chapter 26

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 26
Gareth observed his half-sister’s profile with suspicious eyes, and suddenly, irritation flared within him at how excessively he was paying attention to this insignificant creature’s every move. He turned his head away.
What did it matter what occupied that empty head of hers? When he ascended to the throne, she would be erased from this world forever anyway. He merely had to endure until then.
As if to obliterate the irritating presence of his sister, he gulped down harsh wine in greedy draughts.
* * *
Talia feigned an expression of ennui as she brought the wine glass to her lips. Then she noticed her fingertips trembling faintly and immediately set the glass down. Striving to appear as natural as possible, I hid my hands beneath the table and moistened my parched lips.
The spot where I had touched Barcas burned as if ignited by flame. Though our skin had not made direct contact, the sensation of his firm bone structure felt through cold leather gloves seemed to seep into my very skin.
I pressed my shoulders down against their instinctive shrinking and rubbed my sweat-dampened palms across my skirt. I felt the moisture-laden fabric cling to my skin.
Suddenly, a wave of mortification crashed over me. The dress I had chosen to provoke Gareth’s anger felt like it was strangling my neck.
I felt the exposed shoulders and back prickling with discomfort and clenched my fists tightly. Even knowing that man could not possibly be looking at me, my nerves were wound so taut they ached.
I desperately suppressed the urge to turn and look over my shoulder to see where that man’s gaze was directed. Years of performance allowed me to maintain a composed expression, but there was nothing I could do about the perspiration gradually seeping through my skin.
Feeling the thin fabric cling to my skin like a viscous liquid, I bit down on my lower lip. Choosing this dress had truly been a foolish decision.
“Does the food not suit your palate?”
At the sudden voice, I flinched. The young Monk seated across from me was gazing at me intently.
Was he the Abbot? I gave an affected shrug.
“Compared to what I ate in the Imperial Palace, it is rather shabby.”
At my dismissive remark, the Monk’s face twisted slightly.
I turned my head sharply to draw attention away from myself and picked up a small piece of cake. If I appeared to be eating, perhaps he would refrain from making unnecessary conversation. With that thought, I pushed the crumbly morsel into my mouth and mechanically chewed and swallowed. It felt like swallowing a sponge.
I swallowed my nausea and took a sip of wine. Then I noticed several Monks staring at me persistently, and I frowned. Their sticky gazes felt more repugnant than greasy food.
I abruptly rose from my seat.
“This banquet is disappointing. I believe I shall retire and seek some rest.”
Gareth sent me an irritated glance. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have thrown a few more barbs to needle my brother, but I felt as though bile might rise from my throat at any moment, and I could not remain seated.
I quickly exited the Hall. As I left the space filled with the stench of oil, alcohol, and burning candles, my roiling stomach seemed to settle somewhat.
Taking a deep breath, I wiped my clammy forehead and proceeded along the Corridor with measured steps.
I felt the cool night air sweep across my back. Wrapping my arms around my goose-pimpled forearms, I quickened my pace slightly.
Sometimes I could not fathom why I engaged in such behavior. What meaning was there in displaying myself before people’s eyes and sowing discord?
“The Crown Prince seems utterly unable to tolerate your existence. At times, he appears even less accepting of you than of me.”
Senevir’s voice, which she had murmured contentedly at some point in the past, echoed faintly in my ears.
It must have been the day of the memorial service for the late Empress Bernadette.
When Gareth saw me enter the hall led by Mother’s hand, he completely lost his reason.
The nobles gasped in horror as he shrieked and seized the young Princess’s throat, but the Crown Prince would not budge. Only when two Knights rushed forward could they barely tear him away.
Barely freed from his grotesque grip, I crawled to Mother’s feet and huddled against her. Then Senevir wrapped her body around me protectively.
For a moment, I felt tears welling up from relief, but then I caught a glimpse of satisfaction crossing Senevir’s face.
It must have been from that day onward that I began to provoke Gareth whenever the opportunity arose.
My reputation, already at rock bottom, plummeted to the worst, but it did not matter. The Crown Prince’s reputation would suffer as well, and then Mother would be pleased.
Suddenly, a hollow laugh erupted from my lungs. I found myself ridiculous—still struggling desperately for even a scrap of her affection, even after reaching this state.
Even if I dragged the Crown Prince’s honor through the mud, Senevir would never love me.
Mother loves no one. Not the Emperor, nor even Astros, whom she treasures so dearly.
To her, everything is merely a tool and a means. Perhaps I repeat these actions precisely because I understand this all too well. If I cannot prove my usefulness, I will become truly nothing to her….
“Your Highness the Princess.”
The sudden voice jolted Talia from her reverie.
Turning her head, she glimpsed a dark silhouette looming in the shadowed corridor. The moment she recognized him as the monk who had been staring at her so persistently in the Banquet Hall, her body went rigid.
‘Has he been following me?’
She glanced cautiously around her. The long corridor leading to the Garden was utterly deserted—not a soul in sight. The realization that he had trailed her silently all the way to this desolate place sent a chill racing down her spine.
“What do you want?”
Talia forced herself to sound imperious, masking any trace of fear in her voice.
Fortunately, her bluff seemed to work—she felt him hesitate. She fixed him with a piercing stare, hoping he would simply turn and flee.
“I asked what you want.”
“It’s… it’s about what you said earlier…”
The monk stammered the words out.
She furrowed her brow.
“What did I say?”
“W-well… back in the Banquet Hall…”
The man fidgeted repulsively, his freckled face flushing crimson as his gaze flickered toward her with an unsettling gleam.
Talia braced her legs firmly, refusing to retreat. She knew that showing weakness would only embolden him. She lifted her chin with cold arrogance.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”
“Y-you said you wanted to… to live up to the Crown Prince’s expectations…”
The man blurted it out desperately.
Talia, who had turned toward the Garden, froze. Could it be that he had followed her after hearing her defiant words—spoken in response to Gareth’s warning not to toy with the priests?
As if drenched in ice water, dread flooded through her.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————