talia couldn't find any words to defend herself—her lips only moved soundlessly.
She wanted to put on her usual shameless front, but both her body and mind had reached their limit, and her head simply wouldn't work.
She yanked her hood down to quickly hide her face, which was trembling with agitation. Then she tried to walk past her brother, who was blocking the entrance, but Gareth swiftly caught her wrist.
"I asked you why you were rummaging through Barkas's tent."
"Let go of me!"
She jerked her arm fiercely, but Gareth's grip clung to her like glue.
He yanked her toward him roughly, growling like an enraged beast.
"Tell me what kind of dirty trick you were planning!"
His hand squeezed her so hard it felt like her bones were being crushed. Talia bit down on her lip.
How brutishly strong, she thought with disgust.
Without hesitation, she kicked her brother square in the shin. He must not have been armed yet, because Gareth jumped and cursed loudly.
Talia took advantage of that brief moment, wrenching her arm free before darting out of Barkas's tent and running as fast as she could.
From behind, she could hear the sound of things breaking—Gareth must have started smashing whatever was nearby in rage. But Talia didn't look back; she sprinted through the spaces between tents.
Before long, her carriage came into view. She rushed inside, bolted the door tight, and crouched down in the corner.
A surge of fear struck her—what if Gareth, in his fury, tried to break the carriage down?
But even after a long while, no noise came. It seemed he had stopped chasing her, likely because of the people watching around them.
Talia sighed in relief, burying her face into her knees. Then, as revulsion crept in, her expression twisted.
She felt sick of herself—for behaving like such a fool.
Why had she lost her composure and worried about his safety?
And why had she let Gareth see her so shaken?
Had that man noticed something?
Biting her lip hard, Talia cautiously peeked out the window.
The knights were dismantling tents. It didn't seem like they'd noticed the commotion she had caused.
Pressing her face against the glass, she looked around before quickly drawing the curtain again.
As daylight brightened, the knights mounted their horses and began forming ranks. Among them was Barkas.
Watching him inspect the formation as usual through the slit of the curtain, Talia froze when he started walking toward her carriage.
Was he coming to question her after hearing something from Gareth?
She scrambled for excuses in her head, but Barkas only stopped near her carriage, gave orders to a few knights, and returned to the front.
Talia let her shoulders drop in relief. At that moment, a loud voice rang out from the guards.
"We'll be departing shortly!"
She didn't answer. The knight didn't seem to expect one anyway, as he rode off without further words. Soon, her carriage began to move.
Talia leaned back into her seat, gazing up at the pale morning sky through the gap in the curtain.
In the end, nothing had happened—another tedious day was about to begin.
The march, which began at dawn, halted before the sun had even set.
Gareth, having lost his patience, abruptly declared that they would not move any farther today.
Strictly speaking, the command of this journey rested entirely with Barkas as the expedition's commander.
However, few dared oppose the orders of the Crown Prince.
And so, with Barkas's silent acquiescence, they were forced to set up camp in the open plain, just short of their second holy site—Ulgrom Hill.
To the soldiers eager to leave the plains as soon as possible, the situation was unpleasant. But for Talia, it was welcome.
She hadn't eaten or slept properly, and spending the entire day cooped up in the shaking carriage had drained her strength completely.
Lying down across the seat, she blinked wearily.
Then, from outside, came that irritating voice again.
"Your Highness, I brought you some fruit."
Talia frowned.
After being scolded so harshly yesterday, it was baffling that the knight dared meddle with her again.
What scheme could he possibly have, to keep hovering around her like this?
She snapped irritably, "Go away."
"You said you couldn't eat because you didn't trust what's been prepared. Fresh, unprocessed fruit should be fine, shouldn't it?"
Too annoyed to even respond, Talia kept her mouth shut.
Then the knight, in an act of audacity, opened the carriage door and thrust a tray of fruit toward her.
"I'm worried you'll collapse at this rate and turn this whole trip into a funeral procession. Please, Your Highness—just eat a little."
She glared at him in disbelief, then looked down at the silver tray.
Red apples, plums, and green grapes were arranged neatly.
Staring at them for a moment, Talia muttered in a sunken tone, too tired even to be angry,
"How do I know you didn't poison the skin?"
Anyone else would've given up by now, but the knight didn't budge.
With a heavy sigh, he picked up an apple and took a large bite. Then, holding out the bitten fruit to her, he said,
"Now are you satisfied?"
"You expect me to eat what you've bitten? Disgusting—get that out of my sight!"
The knight looked as though he'd like to strangle her.
But Talia turned away, indifferent.
Truthfully, she was starving—but she couldn't bring herself to eat something handled by someone else. Even if she forced herself, she'd probably just vomit it all up.
"I said enough. Stop bothering me and get lost."
"Is 'get lost' the only phrase Your Highness knows how to say?"
His increasingly insolent tone made her temper flare.
Talia shot up to her feet. A wave of dizziness struck her, but unwilling to show weakness, she braced her legs and endured it.
Once her vision cleared, she ignored the knight's worried glance and stepped out of the carriage.
The sky was turning from deep blue to a soft orange.
Talia looked up at it for a moment before moving away from the camp, avoiding the eyes that kept glancing her way.
She just wanted to be alone somewhere quiet.
But if she wandered too far, the knights would surely follow her under the guise of protection.
After a moment's thought, she headed toward a small cluster of trees slightly apart from the wagons.
It was close enough for her position to still be visible—surely they wouldn't intrude if they could still see her.
Talia leaned her back against a broad tree trunk and breathed in the cool evening air deeply.
She had no idea how long she sat like that before a faint laugh reached her ears from nearby.
Her eyes snapped open.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one seeking solitude—between the sparse fir trees, she spotted Ayla strolling leisurely.
Talia's face twisted in displeasure.
Her mind and body were both worn to the bone; she could hardly bear the sight of that blissful, radiant face.
She sprang to her feet, ready to leave—when she caught sight of another figure partially hidden behind the trees.
The man she had begged to simply stay alive that very morning.
Talia stared at him blankly.
Holding the reins of Tork, Barkas quietly followed behind Ayla, looking more peaceful than she had ever seen him.
She had grown used to his cold expressions, his furrowed brow—seeing him calm felt almost unfamiliar.
Did he always look like that in front of Ayla?
As Talia watched them absentmindedly, Ayla tugged at Barkas's arm and rose slightly on her toes, tilting her chin upward.
Talia instantly understood what she wanted and held her breath.
She didn't want to see this.
She didn't want to witness something she would never be able to erase from her mind—a memory she'd relive again and again for the rest of her life.
Yet, even as her heart screamed, Talia couldn't tear her gaze away.
Maybe, deep down, she wanted to see Barkas reject her—coldly, firmly.
But Barkas, like a loyal hound, obliged Ayla's wish.
The moment she saw him lower his head toward her sister, Talia turned and bolted.
But she hadn't gone far before someone caught her arm.
She looked up in shock.
Gareth stood there, his cheeks flushed red as if he'd been drinking, gripping her arm tightly as he looked down at her.
The way he stared—like he was studying her—made Talia lower her head quickly.
But he had already seen the tears glistening in her eyes.
"You… don't tell me…"
Gareth let out a hollow laugh.
Talia twisted her arm, struggling to break free, but the Crown Prince didn't move.
Looking down at her face, still trembling with emotion, Gareth suddenly burst out laughing.
"So that's what this is, huh?"
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