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She gazed at the pile of clothes, then lowered her eyes to her legs, hidden beneath her skirt.
She had been bathed by her Nanny as soon as she woke in the early morning, after which a Healer had been called to apply fresh bandages.
She would not have to reveal her scars to them.
Thalia gnawed on her lip, then finally nodded.
“Do as you please.”
With her permission, the maids set up a screen in the middle of the room. Thalia stood behind it like a cow being led to the slaughter.
A young maid approached, removed her thin gown, and undid the buttons of her summer dress one by one.
Soon, the loose dress that had enveloped her body slid to the floor.
Thalia noticed the maid suddenly hold her breath and instinctively glanced down at her chemise.
The outline of her twisted leg was faintly visible through the thin fabric.
Feeling her ears burn with humiliation, she snapped at the maid.
“Don’t just stand there gawking, finish up!”
The frozen maid scurried to bring over the clothes.
Seeing her clumsy movements, the head maid pushed her aside and personally dressed Thalia in a pearly white silk dress.
The thin fabric, with its delicate, fine pleats, flowed down her body like mist.
The head maid added a translucent, grayish-indigo outer layer on top, then tied an ornate, embroidered sash around her waist.
The double-layered silk belt was adorned with jade, topaz, and small, animal-shaped ornaments.
After tightening it snugly to reveal her waistline, the maid draped colorful cords with metal bells and tassels over her hips.
The adornment did not end there.
Various jewels strung on thin gold threads were layered around her neck and wrists, and large earrings engraved with the crest of a golden bird were hung from her earlobes.
She felt like a jewelry display.
Was this gaudy attire truly the traditional dress of the East?
As she frowned in suspicion, the maid who was draping a deep blue silk overcoat with wide sleeves over her body let out a breathy sigh of admiration.
“You look just like the legendary Tiramer.”
“Tiramer?”
When she furrowed her brow at the unfamiliar word, the maid clapped a hand over her mouth, her face turning pale.
The suspicious reaction soured her mood.
Was she being made a fool of?
Perhaps they were taking advantage of her ignorance to mock her.
She demanded an answer.
“What is that? Why did you stop talking?”
“Tiramer is, well…”
“Tiramer is the spirit of the earth who governs the seasons.”
The head maid, pulling the front of the silk overcoat diagonally and fastening the long hem with a brooch, spoke.
“The ancient Easterners believed themselves to be the descendants of Tiramer. She is considered the most beautiful and noble of all the spirits of this land.”
Thalia stared at the head maid’s calm face with suspicious eyes.
“Then you could have just said so. Why did you turn pale?”
“Brisa seemed concerned that Your Highness might misunderstand and think we truly believe in the legend.”
The head maid, who had arranged the front of the overcoat to hang open naturally, straightened up and replied.
“The story of Tiramer is merely an old folktale. We hope Your Highness will not doubt our faith.”
Thalia stared intently at the head maid’s stiff face.
A faint tension flickered across her long, horse-like features.
There was no way to know if it was because she was trying to deceive her, or because she was afraid of being branded a heretic.
She turned her head to face the mirror she had been avoiding.
Reflected on its smooth surface, surrounded by deep shadows, was a face that was frighteningly similar to her mother’s.
However, upon that delicate face, a gloomy, ashen shadow was cast instead of the explosive vitality Senevier possessed.
Hollow eyes that looked starved for something, a gaunt face, a wretched body that fell far short of Senevier’s perfectly balanced, sensual physique…
Suddenly, Gareth’s mocking voice echoed in her ears.
‘A woman’s face on a monster’s body…’
The face, a clumsy imitation of her mother’s, twisted tragically.
It was agonizing to look at her own incomplete, broken form.
She spun around roughly.
“If you’re done, get away from me! How long are you going to keep fussing?”
She swatted away the hand tending to her hair rather harshly, and the maid standing behind her flinched and retreated.
The head maid let out a small sigh.
“We will place the crown on your head. Please bear with us a little longer.”
A waiting maid immediately brought a golden coronet.
The head maid placed it on her head, coiled her long hair into a bun, and secured it with a jade-adorned pin.
When all the preparations were finally complete, the maids took a step back and bowed their heads respectfully.
“We will now escort you to His Excellency the Grand Duke’s chambers.”
The head maid said as she started toward the door.
Thalia watched her for a moment with anxious eyes before following behind her.
Dozens of soldiers were waiting in the hallway.
As she stepped carefully between them, the sound of her limping echoed.
She tried her best to walk naturally, but her stiff leg, as always, betrayed her will.
She held her head high, striving not to let her shame show.
After walking for some time, the head maid came to a halt.
“This is the room.”
She said, pointing to a large door across from the staircase.
It seemed the Duke’s residence was located on the same floor.
Relieved that she wouldn’t have to go up or down stairs, Thalia approached the large mahogany door.
“We have brought Her Highness the Princess.”
The head maid announced in a respectful tone, and a stern voice came from within the room.
“Enter.”
The head maid immediately obeyed the command.
As maids on both sides pushed the doors open simultaneously, a wide space crowded with vassals was revealed.
Thalia’s back went rigid as she met the dozens of pairs of eyes that fell upon her.
The impeccably dressed men were staring at her with what looked like shocked expressions.
Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine.
Was there something wrong with her appearance?
She looked down at her clothes.
Perhaps they had dressed her ridiculously to make a fool of her.
They might have dressed her up like a clown, tricking her with the lie of it being traditional Eastern attire.
She glared at the head maid as if she could tear her face off.
Then, suddenly worried that her leg might be visible through her clothes, she lowered her eyes again.
She could see nothing but the richly gathered folds of her dress. But perhaps the shape of her twisted leg was visible from the front.
Cold sweat trickled down her back.
Thalia’s eyes darted around, her expression one of someone desperate to flee.
Just then, she heard heavy footsteps.
Flinching, Thalia lifted her head and saw Varkas, who had already approached her.
Her eyes widened.
He was dressed in an attire similar to hers.
A black silk tunic with a subtle sheen, a belt with intricate gold embroidery, and a wide, diagonally draped overcoat that flowed elegantly along the lines of his sturdy body.
As she dazedly took in his appearance, Thalia felt warm fingers touch her chin and raised her gaze.
Large earrings with blue gemstones and a necklace heavy with topaz glittered in the sunlight.
In that moment, her heart plummeted.
It was the first time she had ever seen him wearing so much jewelry.
Wasn’t this the man who dressed more ascetically than any priest?
Dressed so lavishly, Varkas looked less like a knight of the Roem Empire and more like the ruler of an ancient barbarian tribe.
“Is your leg hurting you?”
Varkas, who had been studying her intently, asked in a low, heavy tone.
Finally snapping back to her senses, Thalia slapped his hand away and took a step back.
She felt as if he could hear her heart pounding violently in her chest.
“I-I’m fine.”
She tried to feign nonchalance, but her cheeks were burning as if on fire.
His blue eyes settled on her flushed face.
Varkas frowned and placed a hand on her forehead.
“Are you running a fever again…?”
“I told you I’m fine!”
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