To her, Talia Roem Gwirta's legs were worth less than her own pride.
“Fine.”
The word left Talia's mouth abruptly.
Color immediately returned to Aila's face.
Watching her quietly, Talia added in a calm voice,
“On one condition.”
“A condition?”
Wariness appeared on Aila's face.
Talia turned her head toward the shelf.
A tray sat there holding fruit, bread, butter, and several silver utensils.
She picked up a small knife used for cutting butter and tossed it toward her half-sister.
The silver blade slid across the floor until it stopped at Aila's feet.
Watching her stare blankly at it, Talia spoke softly.
“Stab your leg with that.”
“...What?”
Aila looked at her as though she had misheard.
Meeting those bewildered eyes directly, Talia enunciated each word.
“Use it to scar your leg. Like this...”
Slowly, she pulled back the blanket.
Aila's widened eyes dropped onto the grotesquely swollen scar.
Making sure she saw it clearly, Talia traced the long, hideous mark that began at her shin with her fingertips.
“From here... all the way to here. Cut yourself deeply with the knife.”
Her finger continued along the scar.
“Then I'll do as you ask.”
Aila looked back and forth between the knife on the floor and her own leg wrapped in velvet skirts.
Her eyelids trembled.
At last, a cold laugh escaped her bloodless lips.
“You never intended to listen to me from the beginning.”
Talia said nothing.
A moment later, the mask of the Imperial Princess settled back over Aila's face.
As though she had never shown a single trace of humiliation, she lifted her chin proudly and turned toward the door.
Her footsteps echoed steadily across the room.
Then they stopped abruptly at the entrance.
Gripping the doorknob, Aila looked back at her.
Her swamp-dark eyes gleamed with a frightening light.
“You will regret what happened today, Talia Roem Gwirta.”
The words fell from her lips like a curse.
Then Aila stepped through the doorway and added coldly,
“Without fail.”