That night
What greeted him upon his return to the bedroom were distinct stains of blood upon the bed.
The moment he caught sight of them under the bright light, his chest tightened, and a chill seeped into the marrow of his bones.
He wanted to go to her at once and examine her injuries, but the memory of her face—as she begged to be left alone—rooted his feet to the spot.
He stood there for a long time, frozen, staring down at the cold bed. A sudden impulse to smash something seized him.
Everything grated on his nerves: the woman who swayed him at her whim, himself for being dragged along by her, and his own body, which refused to quiet, held in the grip of an uncontrollable heat.
Varkas ground his teeth. She had always pushed him to the brink with her rash, thoughtless actions. That night had been no different. He repeated it to himself like a litany, yet his frayed nerves showed no sign of settling.
“What would you like to do about the rest of your schedule?”
Just as they reached the castle gates, Daren, who had followed in silence, spoke up.
Snapped from his thoughts, Varkas frowned and looked up at the sun slipping behind the castle towers.
Under normal circumstances, he should have been attending the meeting called by the Aristocratic Alliance right about now. But the main business would already be finished. Showing his face this late would amount to nothing more than a pointless waste of time in a petty struggle for influence.
Reaching a swift conclusion, Varkas turned his mount around.
“We’ll call it a day.”
With that, he set his boots into the stirrups and spurred his horse forward.
By the time he rode back into the courtyard, the sky was already bruised with the first faint traces of purple.
Varkas looked up, narrowing his eyes at the thin veil of clouds drifting in from the east. It looked like rain. If the skies broke, the wolves’ tracks would wash away, and the hunt would become an ordeal.
‘Nothing seems to go right these days.’
With a wry scoff, Varkas swung lightly down from Toruk’s back and mounted the stone steps.
The moment he stepped into the keep, servants waiting by the entrance moved to strip him of his cuirass and cloak.
He waved off their fussy hands with a curt gesture and strode straight across the wide hall. Just then, his eyes caught the Quarter Dwarf hurrying down the stairs with a bundle of clothes clutched to her chest. Varkas walked straight up to her as she froze in place, and asked without preamble,
“How was Her Highness today?”
Her shoulders twitched, and she burst into a nervous chatter.
“During the day, she took a little fruit and honey wine, and for dinner, she managed a few spoonfuls of oat porridge with herbs. She had some fermented goat’s milk for a snack, too. Her stomach seems far better than before, and she has more of an appetite. It’s all thanks to your care, Your Grace.”
Varkas listened in silence to the breathless explanation before asking in a cautious tone,
“How did her temper seem?”
“Her temper was…”
A look of distress crossed the woman’s face. Varkas’s mouth twisted as his eyes fell to the bundle in her arms. Rich, brightly colored silks were rolled together, torn to ribbons.
It seemed his wife, furious about something, had taken it out on her own gowns.
“I suppose I don’t need an answer.”
“Ah, no, the young lady was merely feeling a bit on edge. But she changed her mind today, and…”
Hurriedly making excuses for her mistress, the woman suddenly snapped her mouth shut and dropped her gaze in awkward silence.
Varkas waited for her to continue, but seeing she had no intention of finishing the thought, he let out a faint sigh and walked past her.
Reaching the heavy doors of his quarters on the second floor, he saw the dying evening light cutting through the high windows, stretching long across the marble floor. His eyes drifted toward the stairs that led to the third floor.
For a brief moment, he considered going up to see her himself, but discarded the idea, certain he would only be turned away at the threshold. Ever since that night, she had kept her door bolted, steadfastly refusing to see him.
Rubbing his stiff neck, Varkas turned back toward his own bedroom.
Then he froze. A heavy, unmistakable scent had caught the tip of his nose.
A strange shudder traced the line of his spine. Before he could make sense of it, his hand had already seized the latch and pulled the door open with a jerk.
“You’re back sooner than I thought.”
The moment he crossed the threshold, that cool, melodious voice greeted him. He turned toward the bed. A woman dressed in a thin gown of deep blue sat atop the white sheets, her voluminous skirts spread wide around her.
She set aside the book resting on her lap and spoke in an offhand manner.
“I heard you were tied up with official business, so I thought you wouldn’t return until the dead of night.”
“…Is that why you came?”
He closed the door behind him almost by instinct as he spoke.
“Because you thought I wouldn’t be here?”
“If I wanted to avoid you, why would I bother keeping vigil over an empty room? What I meant was… I expected to wait a long time for you.”
She bit her red-painted lip as she spoke.
Realizing that her composure was merely an act, and that she was wound tight with nerves beneath it, he folded his arms over his chest.
As the thick fragrance lingering in the room filled his lungs, his already raw nerves pulled tauter still.
He stared at her guardedly, trying to steady his scattering thoughts.
“You waited for me?”
“I just told you I did.”
She snapped with irritation, moistening her parched lips. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the movement before tearing his gaze away toward the window.
He felt the heat coil low in his belly, his blood steadily warming. Annoyed at himself for growing as restless as a stallion catching the wind of a mare, he demanded harshly,
“Why?”
The word sounded accusatory, far sharper than he had intended.
He crossed the room toward the bed and looked down at her with a commanding presence.
“You’ve gone out of your way to avoid me these past few days.”
“That… I simply needed time.”
Unease flickered across her deep blue eyes. A faint flush crept over her pale cheeks and down the curve of her neck, and her scent seemed to thicken.
Varkas clenched his damp palms and pressed her relentlessly.
“Time for what?”
Her hands gripped the cloth of her skirts, trembling.
“Time to heal…”
The strained whisper that managed to leave her throat took the edge right out of his hostility.
Varkas leaned down toward her, his expression turning solemn.
“There were bloodstains on the sheets that night. Were you badly injured?”
“No, it’s nothing. I was told it’s entirely natural.”
His relief at her answer was cut short, as her next words froze him in place once more.
“The tear is completely healed now. We can lie together without any issue.”
He looked down at her, momentarily robbed of speech. She went on in a flat tone,
“We must lie together regularly if we are to conceive. Nanny told me… it is best done as often as possible.”
Varkas stared at her blankly for a second, then let out a hollow scoff.
It appeared this woman had every intention of using him purely as a stud horse.
He took the robe resting beside the bed and tossed it over her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, but I have no interest. Please leave my room.”
“I already told you that you have no right to refuse.”
She straightened her spine and cast a sharp glare at him.
“This is an obligation. Something you must do, whether you like it or not.”
His brow furrowed.
Reason told him she was right. It was undeniably his duty to secure an heir.
The only reason he had never demanded her bed until now was that he knew all too well how deeply she abhorred a man’s touch.
As long as Lucas remained an option, there was no reason to inflict needless misery upon her.
Yet if she was the one demanding it, the matter was entirely different. Had he not harbored a quiet hope that one day she might come to accept him? If she was reaching out first, there was no reason to turn her away.
Then why did this bitterness well up inside him?
“You will heed my words, won’t you?”
Talia pressed him with the haughty bearing of a sovereign. Yet deep within her eyes, a dread she could not quite suppress flickered plain as day.
He spoke, spurred by a sudden impulse.
“If that is what you wish.”
Shame and relief warred across her face. Varkas held her gaze, his tone hardening.
“However, this time, we do it my way.”
END