106
It seemed she lacked even the energy to be difficult.
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought her after all.’
Gazing down at her haggard face with concern, Varkas stepped down from the carriage.
Harsh sunlight poured over them like a sudden downpour. The glare proved too much, and a faint furrow appeared between her pale brows.
He shielded her eyes with the hem of his cloak and passed straight through the castle gates. Hundreds of curious eyes turned toward them at once. A sudden tension stiffened his spine.
He was accustomed to being the center of attention; he had spent his life surrounded by onlookers. Even so, remaining indifferent proved difficult under the eyes prying at the woman in his arms.
“The Grand Duchess appears unwell.”
The captain of the guard, who had followed to escort him, glanced at her and murmured with concern. His gaze lingered on her tousled hair and pale cheeks. Varkas’s voice came out cold.
“Lead me to our bedchamber first.”
“Of course, we must see to her comfort. This way, please. Lord Temuran gave strict orders to serve the Grand Duke with the utmost care.”
Quickly averting his gaze from her, the captain took the lead.
Following him up the stairs brought them into a silent hall and dim corridors reminiscent of a monastery.
“You may use this chamber.”
Passing through what appeared to be an antechamber, the captain pushed open a heavy door banded in iron. Varkas stepped inside and took in the neat furnishings.
It was modest, but by no means poor. Deeming it adequate for a stay of a few days, he laid her down on the bed.
By then, Talia had drifted back to sleep.
Was the calming draught from the healer still holding her under? Watching the woman slip away from consciousness, he noticed the captain still lingering by the door.
His question came sharp and low.
“What is it?”
“Forgive me, but Lord Temuran has requested an immediate audience with Your Grace. Could you come to the council chamber right away?”
Varkas’s brow furrowed.
Courtesy demanded that a guest who had endured a long journey be urged to rest. This meant Temuran was either an uncouth boor or pressed by a matter so urgent that etiquette had to be discarded.
After a searching look, Varkas gave a brief nod.
“Very well. I will go at once.”
The captain’s tense face cleared with evident relief.
After instructing a man waiting in the hall to fetch a healer, Varkas followed without delay.
Before long, they arrived at a traditional hall brightly lit by braziers.
Crossing the intricately patterned carpet toward a heavy timber table, an elderly man seated on the far side rose abruptly to greet him.
“Thank you for coming, Grand Duke.”
As if the rumors of his illness were no lie, the old knight looked pale and drawn.
Varkas watched him closely and took a seat in silence. The old knight sank back into his chair and spoke with urgent haste.
“Please, forgive my rudeness. As you can see, my health has failed me, and I might collapse at any hour. My eagerness to speak with you while my mind remains somewhat clear led me to hasten Your Grace’s steps, a slight for which I cannot apologize enough—”
“Spare the pleasantries. Tell me why you summoned me.”
Varkas cut through the rambling speech with a single stroke.
Wiping cold sweat from his forehead as he gauged Varkas’s temper, the old knight finally forced out his words.
“In truth… there is one question I must ask, which is why I sought this meeting.”
When the old man held out a hand toward the attendant standing behind him, the youth, who had remained quiet as a shadow, produced a parchment.
The old knight spread it flat, his voice strained.
“Not long ago, word reached me that the Heimdal family is mustering the warriors of the North. Is it true that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince stands behind this?”
Taking the parchment, Varkas read through it with care.
It appeared to be intelligence gathered from merchants traveling between the North and the East.
The record, transcribed so the author could not be identified, detailed the movements of northern lords alongside accounts that numerous Imperial knights had been sighted in Amasec.
As Varkas tapped the timber table while reading the final lines, the old knight pressed on anxiously.
“Word has also spread of betrothal talks between the First Princess and the heir of House Heimdal. I wonder if Your Grace was already aware…”
“What is it you truly want to know?”
Varkas looked up from the parchment, cutting straight to the point.
Moistening his dry lips with a taut expression, the old knight finally laid bare his concern.
“I wish to know Your Grace’s true position. Whose side do we stand on?”
Varkas gave no answer, merely fixing his gaze on the man’s face.
Unable to bear the brief silence, the old knight rushed to fill it.
“Rumors say that through Your Grace’s marriage, the East might turn neutral or align with the Empress. And now His Royal Highness has begun courting the North. There are fears the Empire is about to tear itself apart.”
Varkas let out a dry, mocking laugh.
Only a few months had passed since the broken engagement and his marriage. Everyone had been maneuvering frantically in the meantime.
Leaning back in his chair, Varkas lifted the parchment and held it over the candle on the table. The yellowed sheet blackened and curled in an instant, sending up a ribbon of dark smoke.
Watching it burn for a quiet moment, he turned back to the old knight, his tone resolute.
“Nothing has changed. The East stands with Gareth Roem Guirta.”
“Then why has the Crown Prince gone to the North…”
“He seeks to restore his sister’s honor, dragged through the mud by a disloyal subject, by whatever means he can find. How many houses in this Empire could ever rival House Shearkan?”
Despite the assurance, doubt lingered in the knight’s furrowed brow.
Varkas let out a quiet sigh tinged with weariness.
“I understand that governing a border adjacent to the North breeds suspicion, but you are overly anxious. It is nothing more than rumor.”
“You swear Your Grace still stands with the Crown Prince?”
“I do. House Shearkan will not raise a hand against the Crown Prince.”
Only then did the tension drain from the old knight’s face.
“Thank you for answering so plainly. I can finally put my worries to rest, thanks to Your Grace’s reassurance.”
“I am glad to have settled it.”
Offering a formal close to the conversation, Varkas rose from his chair with measured grace.
The old knight struggled to stand, but Varkas stayed him with a brief gesture and strode from the chamber.
Dusk had already gathered in the corridor. Walking through the deepening shadows, he set his thoughts in order.
Gareth’s reckless moves were hardly a surprise. Suspicious by nature, he would never have found peace even with Varkas’s sworn word. Reaching out to the North to build an independent base was well within expectations. Even so, the speed with which the rumors had spread warranted caution.
‘…The Empress’s reach extends even to the East, then.’
Otherwise, news of the Crown Prince’s movements could never have traveled so quickly. That woman had not abandoned her design to drive a wedge between him and Gareth.
Varkas rubbed his chin, his gaze drifting toward the tall window.
Heavy gray clouds hung low as if presaging rain, and twilight settled over the neglected beds and overgrown stone paths below.
Glancing down at the bleak courtyard, Varkas suddenly stopped in his tracks.
The woman he had just tucked into bed was wandering the garden entirely alone, without a single attendant in sight.
END