"I am always mindful of Your Highness."
Varkas spoke in a tone so polite that it left no room for Gareth to find fault.
"I merely meant to say that Her Highness the Princess is resting comfortably, so there is no need to worry. Please don't take offense."
Gareth glared at him with irritation, then strode into the wide hall. Getting heated with this rock-like man would only make him look foolish.
He clicked his tongue lightly and crossed the hall, which was decorated as splendidly as any noble's banquet hall.
"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
As Gareth approached the long table covered in a white tablecloth, the abbot sprang to his feet to greet him.
"Please, take this seat."
Taking the chair offered to him, Gareth glanced over the table. The abbot clearly had no intention of pretending to live a life of poverty. The wide table was laden with silver dishes, golden goblets, and luxurious foods flavored with every kind of spice.
Gareth swept his eyes over it all with satisfaction, then nodded slightly to the dozen-odd priests seated around the table.
"I thank you for such a warm welcome. Please, take your seats."
As soon as his words fell, the monks all pulled out their chairs and sat down together. Only Varkas, attending as his escort, stood silently behind him like a shadow.
Curious gazes flew toward the man. It seemed the monks were surprised by the unusual appearance of the Imperial Knight Commander.
Gareth slightly furrowed his brow.
Varkas always drew people's eyes more than necessary—it was nothing new. Still, Gareth felt a twinge of annoyance that people were paying more attention to Varkas than to him.
It was something he had grown used to when accompanied by this man, but the unpleasantness never went away.
Forcing himself not to show irritation, Gareth lifted his goblet high.
"Let us first express our gratitude to the abbot for preparing such a delightful gathering."
All the priests' gazes turned back to him. Gareth paused, enjoying their attention, and then continued slowly.
"I hope this occasion will hold great meaning for us all…"
He was about to finish the toast with suitably dignified words when a golden phantom suddenly invaded his sight.
Gareth froze, staring blankly at the entrance of the hall.
For a moment, he thought that nightmare of a woman—Senevier—had appeared.
He gripped his goblet roughly and raked his eyes from head to toe over his half-sister.
Did she not even know the basic rule that one must dress simply in a monastery?
Talia Loem Guirta was dressed so lavishly she would have stood out even in a royal ballroom—vulgar and indecent in every way.
He clenched his teeth in contempt.
Talia, revealing the soft, unripe curves beneath her thin dress, slowly walked toward the table.
The monks looked as if they might faint at any moment. Some had their mouths hanging open, completely dazed.
Unable to suppress his fury, Gareth shot to his feet.
"How dare you…! Do you even know where you are, dressed like that?"
With a bang, the wine overflowed from the goblet he had slammed down.
He didn't bother to wipe his wet hands as he pointed at her furiously.
"Did you not hear my warning to stay out of my sight?"
"Oh, I heard it perfectly well."
The woman, pulling out the chair right beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, sat down with a playful smile.
"But how could I possibly sit still when my dear brother says he wishes to see me? I couldn't bear to disappoint the great Crown Prince himself—so I took the trouble to adorn myself for the occasion."
Then, with a showy motion, she brushed her skirt with one hand.
He stared at his half-sister with a look of sheer disbelief.
"What nonsense are you talking about—?"
"Surely my brother knows my perverse disposition well enough. For you to personally send the commander of the Imperial Knights to deliver such a message—didn't that mean you were dying to see your little sister?"
Her eyes, pure cobalt blue without a trace of impurity, narrowed slyly.
"When His Highness the Crown Prince makes such a sincere request, it's only proper for a younger sister to meet his expectations, isn't it?"
He had to gather every last shred of his self-control not to slap that woman's face.
As if to provoke him further, Talia continued lazily,
"Ah, how nice it is to see your face again, Brother. Are you enjoying yourself as well?"
"…I was, until you showed up."
At his words, ground out between clenched teeth, Talia burst into laughter.
"Then it was worth the effort to come all this way despite the fatigue."
Gareth clenched his jaw so hard it might have broken.
Whenever this woman smiled like that, he could barely restrain the urge to smash that grotesquely beautiful face to pieces.
He balled his fists so tightly that his shoulders trembled, spitting out his words one by one.
"How long do you intend to keep acting up? Are you trying to test how much I can tolerate you?"
"Oh, Brother, how cruelly you speak…"
Leaning one elbow on the table, the woman tilted her body toward him.
Light from the chandelier spilled over her pitifully thin shoulders and the sharp lines of her shoulder blades. The monks' eyes, too, were drawn to that delicate form, as if carved from ivory.
Snake of a woman.
Overcome by a fierce disgust, he breathed roughly through his teeth.
Sensing his anger reaching its limit, Talia's lips curled sharply upward.
"I only came because I was invited. I don't understand why you're so angry. Toward your lovely little sister… don't you think you're being a bit harsh?"
Turning her head toward the abbot as if seeking agreement, she asked,
"Don't you think so, Father?"
The monk froze in embarrassment, unable to answer.
Finding his flustered reaction amusing, Talia's eyes curved wickedly.
Her flirtatious behavior was nauseating.
Gareth seized her arm roughly.
"Seems like you're in heat—if you need a bed partner, pick one of your own attendants. Don't play your filthy games with the monks. If you stain the Imperial name with your indecent scandals, I'll make sure that pretty face of yours will never see daylight again."
At that brutal threat, her eyes flashed.
"And just what will you do to me?"
Leaning forward as if to challenge him, Talia hissed,
"When you say things like that, Brother, you make me want to meet your expectations."
He couldn't hold back any longer. He reached out, ready to twist her thin neck.
At that moment, a firm hand came down on his shoulder.
"Your Highness."
Startled, Gareth lifted his head.
Varkas Laedgo Siorcan was looking down at him with his usual calm expression—
an emotionless face he had seen countless times before. Yet for a fleeting instant, Gareth felt threatened, absurd as it was.
"Everyone is waiting for Your Highness's toast."
The man's hand pressed his shoulder more firmly, as if to warn him not to be baited by Talia's provocations.
Gareth brushed off the hand roughly. His fingertips trembled with the unspent urge for violence.
To hide it, he clenched his fist and glared at the woman's mocking face.
Talia Loem Guirta was deliberately provoking him.
He must not get caught up in it.
Repeating that to himself, Gareth forced down his fury and released her arm. Then, snatching up his goblet again, he raised his voice theatrically, as if nothing had happened.
"We've wasted enough time on pointless quarrels. Let's eat now. Once again, I thank the abbot for preparing such a fine occasion. May today be a meaningful day for us all."
The monks exchanged uneasy looks between the Crown Prince, the illegitimate Princess, and the Knight Commander standing silently behind them, before timidly raising their cups.
Only Talia Loem Guirta, arms crossed, watched the scene with a mocking smile.
Just as Gareth felt his temper rising again at her defiant attitude,
Varkas bent down slightly over Talia's head.
"As a guest, it would be proper to observe basic manners, Your Highness."
Then, with a smooth motion, he gently unfolded her hand and placed a silver goblet in it.
Talia stiffened at the sudden touch, then shot him a venomous glare.
Gareth expected her to hurl the goblet in rage.
Since childhood, she had always clashed with Varkas more than anyone—she seemed desperate to tear him apart.
But contrary to his expectations, Talia—who had looked up like a cat with its fur raised—straightened quietly.
He narrowed his eyes.
It was unlike Talia Loem Guirta to retreat after such a mild warning. She was a woman who never knew restraint.
Instead of submitting to Varkas's pressure, she should have leapt at him foaming at the mouth—that would have been the Talia he knew.
What scheme is she plotting?
read more on brightnovels.com