A heavy silence descended over the banquet hall.
Talia realized that everyone present was watching for her reaction, and so she forced a smile onto her lips.
“Then why are you still standing there? Go and escort our guests inside at once.”
She deliberately scolded the head steward in a composed tone, but the man standing by the doorway nervously moistened his lips.
“The thing is... I believe Your Highness will have to receive the guest personally.”
Talia raised the corner of her eye.
At present, she held the highest status in the East. There was no guest in existence who could require her to rush out and greet them in person.
She was about to rebuke him—
When the man's trembling voice pierced her ears.
“T-the representative leading the delegation... is Her Majesty the Empress.”
Talia's mouth fell open.
It was as though her mind had suddenly been emptied.
Then the murmurs around her snapped her back to reality.
She hurried out of the banquet hall. At that moment, she had no time to worry about others noticing her unnatural gait.
With her skirts fluttering, Talia crossed the great hall and rushed outside.
Hundreds of imperial envoys bearing the imperial standard stood assembled in the castle courtyard.
At their head, a woman waved with a radiant smile.
“Talia!”
A woman who shone like the sun crossed the garden as though walking upon clouds.
She looked so youthful that it was difficult to believe she had a daughter of nineteen years.
“Have you been well?”
In an instant, she was right in front of her. Soft arms, smooth as cream, wrapped around her.
The sweet scent of her skin made Talia's mind swim.
She looked up at her mother with eyes clouded by confusion, anxiety, fear, and longing.
“M-Mother, why are you here...?”
“Why, I came to see you.”
Senevier kissed her cheek and whispered affectionately.
“I was curious about how you were doing, so I begged Virus to send me as the imperial representative. And as always, he couldn't overcome my stubbornness.”
Then she gently cupped her daughter's cheeks with elegant fingers carrying the scent of roses and quietly examined her face.
“You look healthier than you did when you lived in the Imperial Palace. It seems your husband treats you well.”
For some reason, a chill ran down Talia's spine.
Like someone burned by fire, she hurriedly pulled away.
“Why are you really here...? What kind of scheme are you plotting this time?!”
“Your Majesty.”
At that moment, a voice cold as frost cut her off.
Talia turned toward the sound.
Varkas was crossing the garden, dressed in a long black cotehardie beneath a gray fur-lined mantle.
Apparently, he had heard the news during the gathering at the cathedral and rushed over immediately.
Carrying with him the heavy scent of incense, Varkas subtly stepped between Senevier and Talia before bowing.
“Thank you for coming such a long way.”
“My condolences, Grand Duke of Siorcan.”
Blue eyes thick and deep as a swamp leisurely examined the youth who seemed carved from flawless marble.
A curious smile spread across Senevier's lips.
“To see his son grow into such a splendid man before his death... your father must have departed without regrets.”
Her tone resembled that of an adult indulging a young boy.
A faint trace of mockery passed through Varkas's lips.
He replied in his characteristically flat voice.
“Your praise is more than I deserve.”
“You remain as humble as ever. Many people in the Imperial Palace miss you dearly.”
Smiling softly, Senevier cast a meaningful glance toward Talia.