The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 9, 10
C9, 10
### Chapter 9
The moment Talia opened her eyes, she prepared herself with more care than ever. She silently endured the maids rubbing her skin with stiff, rough brushes until it turned red, and even when they combed her hair so hard that her scalp burned, she bore it without a single complaint.
When they finished getting her ready, she put on the velvet dress, the gift her grandfather had given her the day she left the House of Taren. Until then, he had only looked at her with disapproval, but that day he had given her something for the first time.
Looking in the mirror, she saw a girl with an angelic face staring back at her. Perhaps that was what Senevier would have looked like if she had been nine years old again. Her gaze lingered on her own deep blue eyes—the same color as her mother’s—and, with a determined expression, she left her room. However, the boy who always trained at the same time was nowhere to be seen today.
After slipping away from her companions and wandering around the castle courtyard for a long time, Talia’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. A dreadful thought sent a chill through her: what if she never saw him again?
Why was she so obsessed with a boy she had only spoken to once?
No, that wasn’t true. She knew exactly why. On that rain-soaked day, he could have ignored a girl covered in mud, but he didn’t. He had dirtied his own clothes and boots to go down into the ditch and pull her out. He had held her cold body against his warm chest and looked into her eyes for a long time. He had even taken in a poor bird on the verge of death.
That, on its own, was enough to become her hope.
Talia walked tirelessly alongside the outer walls of the imposing palace. The Imperial Palace was like the belly of a giant beast. It was so vast and complex that, even after months of living there, she still stumbled upon places she had never seen before.
She wandered through gardens filled with flowers, crossed a wide clearing, and ended up at the back of the main palace. Her legs ached from walking non-stop since morning. Every step burned her feet as if they were resting on fire; perhaps she had developed blisters.
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she looked up at the blue sky through the thick layers of leaves. She stood there still for some time before deciding to return to the Separated Palace. But just at that moment, through the tall birch trees, she saw a slender figure moving with grace. Her eyes lit up with joy.
Even from a distance, she recognized him instantly. His upright posture, his silent and fluid stride… no one else could move that way.
Talia ran after him immediately. But no matter how fast she went, the distance did not shorten. He was hurrying towards somewhere. Where and why? She thought about calling out to him, but she was out of breath. In the end, she lost sight of him.
Collapsing against the trunk of a tree, she let herself fall to the ground in frustration. The intense sunlight filtered through the leaves, hurting her face. She narrowed her eyes, staring fixedly at the swaying treetop, when a faint laughter floated on the breeze, light and clear, like a bird’s song.
Getting up, she followed the sound.
Through dense birch trees and thick undergrowth, she stumbled upon a vision: a beautiful flowerbed bursting with lavender, marigolds, and tiny white flowers; a white marble pavilion; a small fountain. It was like a fairy palace.
Spellbound, she looked around. Then her eyes caught him, kneeling on one knee in front of a marble bench.
He was not alone. A lovely girl of about his same age was sitting across from him, with silky dark brown hair and rosy cheeks. She chattered non-stop, and a faint smile curved his lips.
A sharp pain pierced Talia’s chest, as if she had been pricked by a thorn. She felt as though her treasure had been stolen from her. She knew that feeling made no sense. Anyone could see that the two had known each other for a long time, while she was nothing more than a stranger.
Still, she wished to enter that small, warm world of theirs. To make those silver-blue eyes and that faint smile turn toward her.
Driven by that desire, she stepped out of the thicket and walked toward the fountain. Both the boy’s beautiful eyes and the girl’s bright green eyes turned to her.
Unaccustomed to speaking with children her own age, Talia’s throat went dry. But she reminded herself: “I am a princess of the Empire.” Surely they would not reject her offer of friendship. Raising her chin with practiced pride, she greeted them.
“Hello.”
The boy just looked at her, motionless.
“Does he not recognize me?” she wondered. The last time they saw each other, she had been soaked in mud; perhaps he did not expect to see her dressed like a princess. She opened her mouth, ready to remind him of the day he had helped her, but before she could do so, the girl suddenly shrieked.
“No! Not here! Anywhere but here!”
Her high-pitched screech was filled with desperation, as if she were facing a nightmare. With her eyes wide with terror, the girl threw herself toward the boy.
“Please, Varkas! Get her out of here! Don’t let her set foot in this place! Don’t let me ever see her again!”
Her thin arms clung to his neck. The boy wrapped his arms around the girl’s trembling back to protect her. Over her shaking shoulder, his cold gaze cut through Talia. She took a step back, stumbling.
His voice was low, threatening:
“Get out. Now.”
Staring fixedly at his frigid face, Talia turned around and ran.
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her. Her mind went numb, unable to think. She ran and ran, until near the main palace, suddenly, something pulled her hair savagely. Her head was jerked back, her body twisted, and before she could comprehend what was happening, a heavy blow struck her.
She rolled on the grass, clutching her aching stomach.
“How dare you set foot where you don’t belong!”
A furious, youthful voice roared above her.
Looking up in shock, she saw a boy she didn’t know glaring at her with rage. He had dark hair and flaming green eyes. He looked so much like the girl that Talia knew instantly they were siblings. But she had no idea when he had started following her, or why he was so enraged.
Still dazed by that sudden attack, she froze. Then, the boy’s foot slammed into her stomach again.
“Die!”
A burning pain clouded her vision. She curled in on herself, coughing violently. Like someone kicking a ball, he kicked her over and over again.
“Die! Die! Just die!”
His voice was a piercing scream that drove into her ears like nails.
By the time the servants came running in alarm, his curses and blows had still not ceased. Talia crawled desperately along the ground like an insect to escape his brutal kicks. Even then, he raged, struggling against the grip of two servants holding him back. His roar was almost animalistic:
“Vanish from this world, you filthy, cursed bastard!”
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THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL) – CHAPTER 10
Chapter 10
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
After that commotion, Talia began to stay solely inside the separate palace. But because of the maids, who never stopped whispering as if they had never been mute, she came to know the truth: that the boy who had assaulted her was none other than the Crown Prince of the Empire, her half-brother. And also that the black-haired girl she had seen that day in the birch forest was her half-sister…
She also learned that less than six months had passed since both of them lost their mother. Which meant that she and Senevier had entered the imperial palace barely three weeks after the death of the previous Empress, Bernadette.
Senevier had even erased every trace of the late empress as soon as she stepped into the palace. Perhaps that small garden behind the main palace was one of Bernadette’s traces that her mother had not managed to eliminate.
Talia looked out the window. The summer rain poured down heavily on the garden her mother had tended with such care. The plants in the garden, heavy with water and bearing a strong scent of damp vegetation, looked like hideous monsters to her.
She drew the window curtain. Then, curled up on her bed, she remembered the Crown Prince’s eyes burning with hatred, her half-sister’s face paled by terror, and the blue-eyed boy who had looked at her with fury while wrapping his arms around the girl as if to protect her…
“Barkas Raedgo Siorcan…” she murmured his name, her gaze lost on the ceiling.
She had finally found out the boy’s name, but she felt no joy whatsoever. She had realized that he would never, ever smile at her.
The late Empress Bernadette came from the Marquisate of Oristein, one of the most prestigious families in Osiria, but her mother had been a noble of the Siorcan family. That made the deceased empress and Barkas distant relatives. Furthermore, she herself had cared for the young Barkas when he first arrived at the palace and began his rigorous education. Perhaps he considered Senevier an enemy.
‘And me too…’
Remembering those frigid eyes that had looked at her, she felt resentment for the first time for being Senevier’s daughter. Even the appearance she had always been proud of, due to her great resemblance to her mother, now felt shameful to her.
Talia did not want to harbor those feelings. She was the one who had received a terrible beating, so why should she feel guilt? The Crown Prince was the one who had acted wrongly. She truly had known nothing. What crime had she committed? She was not bad. She had done absolutely nothing wrong.
Talia repeated this to herself over and over again. However, every time she found herself surrounded by the cold glares of the servants, those thoughts vanished without a trace.
She perfectly understood the meaning of the hostile treatment she received at their hands: bringing her freezing water for her bath and scrubbing her roughly until her skin turned red, pinching her flesh with tweezers every time they dressed her, combing her hair with so much force that they hurt her scalp, serving her cold food on every occasion… All of that was the way they punished her.
She knew they hated her. But it had not mattered to her much; things had not been so different when she lived with the Taren family. Every time she cowered, Senevier would always embrace her and whisper: “You are the fruit of true love. You don’t have to care about what others say.”
Talia had believed those words and had tried to carry herself with pride. But now, her mother was no longer by her side. Around her, there were only whispers about how good and gentle the previous Empress had been, and how much she had suffered in her life.
Talia became visibly disheartened. The head she had always held high with pride now sank like a turtle retracting into its shell, her gaze fixed by inertia on the floor. And the servants, noticing this change, only became crueler. Neither the Emperor nor Senevier herself paid much attention to her, so it seemed the staff no longer even feared punishment.
From the beginning, they had never considered Talia a princess of the Empire. To them, she was simply the one who had caused pain to Empress Bernadette: the proof of a foul affair. Every time she walked down the hallway, she could hear them murmuring about her in that manner. She felt like she was going to lose her mind. Every word of condemnation filled her with a sense of injustice and resentment. However, thinking that so many people had suffered due to her own birth, she almost felt she deserved to endure such grief.
But the torment reached a level she could no longer tolerate.
It happened when two seasons had already passed since she entered the imperial palace. One morning, when Talia went down to the dining room for breakfast, she was struck by a strange unease. That day, many servants had come to attend to her. Seeing the line of maids along the wall gave her a premonition that something was going to happen.
However, contrary to what she feared, the servants were courteous, and the table was provided with an unusual abundance of dishes. Talia stared blankly at the silver trays. Instead of the usual hard, stale bread, the cooks brought freshly baked golden loaves with butter. Shortly after, they served her roasted quail and a steaming stew.
For months, she had eaten nothing but miserable and unappetizing food. Seeing that thick stew filled with ingredients, instead of the watery soup like rainwater they usually gave her, she almost burst into tears from the embarrassment. Talia looked around at the servants. Dozens of eyes were fixed on her, watching her reaction.
‘Could it be that they no longer want to punish me? Perhaps they are ready to forgive my existence, ready to show me kindness…’
Talia lifted the spoon. She took a spoonful of steaming broth and brought it to her mouth. The taste of butter, milk, vegetables, and a tender sweetness spread across her tongue. The taste of hot food after so long awakened a ravenous hunger in her. She forgot her dignity and engulfed the stew in a hurry.
How long had she been eating when it happened? Suddenly, she noticed a very strange taste. It was a flavor far too repulsive to be the simple musky smell of meat that the spices had failed to hide. She frowned and fixed her eyes on the stew.
Just at that moment, stifled giggles were heard behind her back. Talia turned her head sharply. All the maids had expressionless faces with their gazes lowered. But she had seen the twitch in their lips. A cold sweat ran down her spine.
After a long hesitation, Talia stirred the stew with her spoon. Pushing aside the large chunks of food, she saw something heavy sunken in the deepest part of the bowl. It was not meat. Lifting that dark lump with the spoon, she froze in shock.
A gray, floating flesh; a bloated rat in the thick broth, its mouth wide open.
She could not even scream.
Falling from the chair, she vomited the stew onto the floor. Even after throwing up more than she had eaten, the retching would not stop. The foul stench only grew stronger, clinging to her nostrils. It seemed the taste of that dead rat would stay stuck to her tongue forever. She shoved her fingers down her throat, scraping her tongue, forcing out what resisted coming out.
Collapsed on the floor, retching, she suddenly saw through her tear-blurred vision a pair of feet passing by the table. Dazed, Talia raised her head.
The maid in charge of the kitchen was collecting the dishes with utter calmness, as if nothing had happened. Other servants moved busily back and forth, carrying trays and wiping the table.
As if the girl lying in her own vomit on the floor did not even exist…
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