The veins on the Crown Prince's thick neck bulged visibly.
Seeing him look ready to throw a punch at any moment, Edrick immediately moved closer to Talia's side. Apparently he was not the only one to sense the danger. Varkas, who had been standing silently like a shadow, stepped between them.
“The schedule has already been delayed considerably. Let us proceed with the ceremony.”
The Second Imperial Princess stiffened for a moment and turned her eyes toward him.
The reaction lasted only an instant, but Edrick, whose nerves were stretched taut, caught the way her body had gone rigid.
It seemed that even this reckless, storm-brained woman understood that when Sir Varkas became serious, it was wise to back down.
Talia pressed her lips together and looked away.
The Crown Prince, who had seemed on the verge of exploding, also clenched his teeth and returned to stand before the altar.
Seeing the situation apparently settled, the high priest—who had been shrinking into himself and nervously watching the exchange—cleared his throat and resumed the ceremony.
Standing some distance away, Edrick watched as the three imperial siblings received their consecration prayers one by one.
The Crown Prince approached the altar first and bowed his head.
The high priest raised a silver chalice, poured holy water into it, and recited blessings in an ancient tongue.
Next came the First Imperial Princess and Sir Varkas, her future husband.
Finally, Talia stepped forward and bowed before the priest.
Edrick found himself staring at her as though she were a stranger.
The light from hundreds of candles washed over her tawny-gold hair and pale skin, surrounding her with an almost mystical radiance.
For a moment she seemed less like a human being and more like something from another world.
As he watched in silence, the priest poured holy water over her head as well.
The clear stream soaked her hair like spun gold, slid over her smooth forehead and cheeks, traced the bridge of her nose, and gathered at the tip of her chin.
The priest placed a hand atop her head and poured divine power into the blessing.
“May God's grace remain with you forever...”
At last, the prayer that had seemed as though it would never end finally came to a stop.
The priest rang a silver bell.
The Crown Prince rose first and crossed through the congregation.
The First Imperial Princess and Sir Varkas followed behind him.
Then Talia Roem Gwirta slowly straightened as well.
Lifting her chin high, she strode through the congregation with the bearing of a queen.
No one could take their eyes off her.
The embodiment of discord.
An unsettling, ill-omened presence.
The woman they had always viewed in such a way suddenly seemed different.
As though, for the very first time, they were realizing that she truly was an Imperial Princess of the Empire.
* * *
Perhaps because they had climbed to a much higher elevation, the air that had felt like boiling water earlier had grown cool.
Drawing a breath of the dry, crisp atmosphere, Talia gazed through the carriage window at the darkening sky.
Deep blue night was rolling in from the east.
Another day was about to end without incident.
Her throat burned as though she had swallowed a piece of fire.
Opening the storage compartment attached to the side of the carriage, Talia retrieved a small silver knife she had taken from the monastery.
The pale blade gleamed faintly.
It almost seemed to be speaking to her.
As though it were saying it had grown tired of waiting.
She slipped it into her pocket and carefully climbed down from the carriage.
The bustling campsite spread before her.
Pulling the hood of her cloak low over her head, she cautiously surveyed her surroundings.
Apparently a grand feast was being held to improve Gareth's foul mood.
Servants hurried back and forth between the tents carrying food and wine.
Several soldiers were already thoroughly drunk.
Talia brushed her fingers against the blade hidden in her pocket and moistened her dry lips.
She welcomed the chaos.