His tone was as casual as if he were merely stepping out for an evening walk.
Talia’s brows drew up.
“A minor subjugation?”
Varkas, who had been handing a leather pouch weighted with gold coins to a man who appeared to be the local administrator, glanced down at her. Catching her displeasure, a faint sigh escaped his set lips.
“Marauders have made camp in the area. Their base is small, so I should be back by dawn.”
‘Do you really have to go?’
The words nearly burst from her, but Talia checked herself and clamped her lips shut when she realized dozens of eyes were on them.
Anxiety twisted in her gut, yet pride would not allow her to show this detached man how unsettled she was.
Brushing his hand from her shoulder, she spoke with sharp disdain.
“I could not care less when you return. I am tired, so just take me to my quarters.”
Opposite them, the administrator, who had been listening with held breath, sucked in a sharp gasp.
Varkas gave no reaction at all. Turning back to the administrator, he asked, “Where are her quarters?”
“Ah… this way, please.”
The man hurried ahead to guide them.
Following after him, a modest stone building came into view.
As they stepped inside, the administrator stammered through his explanation.
“This was originally an official residence, but we cleared it the moment we heard Your Grace was arriving. Please, this room is yours.”
Warily, he pushed open a large door at the very end of the hall.
Talia surveyed the dim bedchamber with a bored glance.
Unlike its humble exterior, the room was furnished with reasonable warmth. They had evidently taken great pains to receive their guests.
Watching her face for any hint of displeasure, the administrator added timidly, “If anything is lacking, tell me at once. I shall see to it immediately.”
“No, this will do, so leave,” Talia dismissed him, lifting her chin coldly as she examined the thick linens on the bed.
The administrator cast a fleeting glance at Varkas before scuttling out.
Talia shed her heavy traveling cloak, tossed it aside without care, and collapsed onto the bed. Varkas, who had watched her in silence, stepped to her side.
She deliberately ignored his presence, turning her back to him. If she looked at his face, she knew she would only spit more venom.
Reaching for the blanket to pull it over herself, she muttered crossly, “I am going to sleep, so tell Nanny I will not be having dinner.”
“Talia.”
A dark shadow fell over her, and Talia lifted her gaze. Varkas was leaning down, one hand planted beside her pillow.
The evening sun through the window stained half his face blood-red. As she stared, dazed by that unreadable face, a cool finger touched her forehead.
“However tired you are, do not skip a meal.”
“What does it matter to you whether I starve?”
Talia jerked her head away, throwing off his touch.
“Just go kill your marauders already.”
A faint crease settled between his brows, as though he could not fathom why she was so cross.
Talia pulled the blanket over the crown of her head.
Soon, she felt him rise from the mattress. As his footsteps began to recede, a sudden hollow ache gripped her chest.
He was a man who could fell a giant twice his size. She had seen him bring down a wyvern with iron chains. A rabble of marauders was nothing to him.
Yet nothing in this world was certain.
Bolting upright, she snatched at the hem of his cloak.
He stopped and looked back. In a voice reduced to a frail murmur, she muttered, “Be… be careful.”
His eyes widened minutely.
That a single phrase could draw such a reaction from him stung her with unexpected shame.
She snapped after it, desperate to cover herself, “If something happens to you, my standing becomes precarious. So do not get yourself killed out of reckless pride.”
A faint flicker—caught between a smile and a scowl—passed over his face and was gone.
Talia shrank beneath the blankets once more. In the next breath came his heavy tread.
“Do not worry. I will return shortly.”
Leaning over the bed again, Varkas stroked her hair with gentle care.
The unlooked-for tenderness made her heart drop into her stomach.
That quiet touch pierced deeper than any heated kiss ever had.
He turned and left the room.
Talia peered out slowly, like a snail poking from its shell.
Creeping to the window, she looked down to see hundreds of soldiers waiting in formation before the building.
Soon, Varkas joined their ranks. Talia stood motionless for a long time, watching him lead the column toward the outskirts of the village.
Even after his silhouette vanished beyond the crest of the hill, she remained rooted there, until a familiar voice came through the door.
“Your Highness, I have come to apply your ointment.”
“…Come in.”
The moment permission left her lips, the healer from House Taren walked inside.
Talia dragged her feet across the floor to sit in a chair before the hearth. The woman knelt in front of her and carefully lifted the hem of her skirts.
“How does it feel?”
“The same as ever.”
With practiced ease, the healer unwound the linen and inspected the ruined flesh.
“The skin has finally begun to chafe. It would be best to leave the bandages off tonight.”
Talia fixed her with a hard stare.
“No. Bind it properly.”
“The Grand Duke is away tonight. There is no reason to hide the scars—”
“Do you think I am doing this for Varkas?”
Talia’s voice cracked sharp and thin. The healer froze, startled.
Watching that rigid face, Talia muttered in a low, dead tone, “I do it because I cannot bear to look at them. So bind it.”
With a soft sigh, the healer produced fresh rolls of cloth, yielding to the command. After spreading the sticky salve over the scar tissue with meticulous care, she bound the linen as loosely as she dared.
“Does the medicine the eastern sorcerer prepared seem to be taking effect?” the woman asked abruptly, wiping the remaining salve from her fingers with a cloth.
Talia gave a listless reply. “It does not seem entirely useless. My stomach aches because the draught is so potent, but I feel stronger the morning after.”
“Do you know what herbs were used in it?”
“I was only told it was a blend meant to restore one’s strength.”
Talia looked down at the healer, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Why do you ask so persistently? Do you think they are feeding me poison?”
“…The Empress commanded me to attend to Your Highness’s well-being with utmost care,” the healer began with guarded deference. “And there are many here who hold no love for you. One can never be too cautious.”
Her expression hardened, Talia scoffed coldly. “If they intended to poison me, they would have dropped it in my food or wine. Why taint medicine where it would be noticed at once?”
The healer sank into silence, her face clouded with thought.
Was something truly amiss?
Talia, unsettled despite herself, offered a concession. “If your suspicions run so deep, I will leave some in the vial next time. Take it and inspect it yourself.”
END