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Talia watched his back plunge instantly into darkness, her expression turning rigid as she hurried across the room.
She could vaguely make out the motion of him turning around. Talia reached out at once, her fingers brushing against the stiff texture of bandages wrapped over bare skin.
“Are you hurt?”
“It is only a light scratch from a hunt.”
“A light scratch…? What kind of monster was it?”
How could a man with the monstrous strength to overpower even a wyvern have sustained an injury?
As she stared up at the silhouette of his face with wide eyes, Varkas answered with a faint sigh in his voice.
“A pair of Drakars had nested in the north. They are rare beasts, and in my effort to preserve the hides…”
He stopped abruptly as her hand touched his bare chest.
With the sole intent of gauging the depth of the wound, Talia traced her fingertips along the bindings. Thick linen wrapped diagonally across his left shoulder and chest.
“How severe is it?”
“It is nothing.”
“Light a fire. I cannot see.”
Drawing a slow breath, Varkas reached out and drew back the curtains draped over the window.
Though ink-dark clouds blanketed the sky, the room was not utterly black, and she could make out his frame without difficulty.
Varkas stood barefoot on the carpet, clad only in loose, Eastern-style woolen trousers.
She stiffened for a moment at his unkempt, almost savage appearance, but the sight of the medicine bottle in his hand made her voice spike.
“Why didn’t you summon a healing sorceress? If you had it mended with magic—!”
“Drakar claws carry a poison that resists magic. Healing spells are utterly useless until the venom neutralizes on its own.”
Varkas answered flatly, turning toward the shelf. His exposed back came into plain view only inches away.
His body resembled a construct stripped of every superfluous line. Dense muscle was packed tight over a broad, sculptured skeletal frame, and taut sinew stood out like fine embossing on marble flesh. Even the bandages binding his torso seemed less an infirmity than an ornament set to display his sheer physical power.
“The toxin should clear in about a week. I can have it mended then,” Varkas added indifferently, setting the bottle down.
Talia snapped out of her daze and looked down, her gaze faltering.
“…Does it ache?”
“Not in the least.”
Talia gave him a doubtful look at the dry, clipped response.
Certainly, nothing in his posture betrayed pain as he pulled his shirt back on. Still, she could not settle her unease and asked again, an edge of anxiety in her voice.
“Are you truly all right?”
“It will not impede our business tonight, so do not trouble yourself.”
Talia stared up at him as though she had been struck across the face.
“Do you believe that is all I think about?”
“Did you not come here to share my bed?”
He looked down at her with genuine question. Because his voice carried only the blunt confirmation of a fact rather than mockery, words failed her. He was right; she had come to sleep with him.
Heat flared in her cheeks, and she stammered.
“Do not misunderstand. I did not come because I wanted you. I only… for a child…”
“Do not fret. I have never once misconstrued your intentions.”
Varkas cut through her excuses with an even voice.
Talia bit the inside of her lip. She ought to have felt relief that he had taken her words at face value. Why, then, did her chest feel so terribly tight?
“In any case, I have no intention of lying with an injured man. So light the hearth.”
“…Will you remain in this room?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Varkas’s face.
Talia’s expression darkened. It seemed he truly believed she only engaged with him for that single purpose.
Even though she was the one who had taken such pains to make it seem that way, it left a bitter taste to see him take her so entirely at her word.
She took a step back, keeping her eyes on the floor.
“If my presence bothers you, say so. I will return to my chambers…”
“Stay.”
His hand closed abruptly over hers.
“You were always the one who insisted on leaving. I have always asked you to stay.”
Talia looked up at him in confusion, then let her gaze fall to where their hands met.
She always felt defenceless after they lay together. She grew rigid, never knowing when his hand might graze her crippled leg, sick with dread that the sight of her ruined flesh might be laid bare to eyes accustomed to the dark.
Above all, she was terrified by how uncontrollably she had begun to crave his touch and his warmth.
And yet…
She quietly traced his silhouette in the dim, bluish light.
With his damp hair pushed back off his brow, he looked, for some reason, like a solitary boy. That harmless aspect disarmed her defences entirely.
“Then I will stay for only a little while. If I return like this, Nanny will only scold me…”
At her clumsy excuse, faint creases gathered at the corners of his eyes. Realizing her words were an admission that her nanny was pressing her to conceive, Talia hurriedly looked away.
Watching her in silence, Varkas spoke coldly.
“If the woman causes you distress, I will send her back to the Imperial Palace.”
“No!” Talia cried out sharply. “Don’t you dare! I won’t stand for it!”
He fixed her with an unreadable stare, looking as though he could not comprehend why she would defend someone who treated her so poorly.
Talia’s voice rose in protest.
“She is the one who raised me from infancy. She is the closest thing to a mother I have ever had.”
· · ·
“If you send Nanny back to the palace, I am going with her.”
As she snapped out her ultimatum, his brow furrowed.
His lips parted as though he intended to speak, but he only let out a slow breath and turned toward the fireplace.
“Do not stand there. Sit down.”
Without calling for a servant, he set about lighting the fire himself.
Relieved by the change of subject, Talia stepped closer to him.
“Leave that to the servants. Just sit down and rest.”
“This much is nothing.”
Flames soon flickered over the logs. Talia, who had been hovering restlessly, gave his sleeve a tug.
“Come now, sit.”
When she led him to the edge of the bed and pressed down on his shoulders, Varkas looked up at her with an odd expression.
Was he astonished to see the woman who always shoved him away now fussing over him?
After studying her for a long moment, he sank onto the edge of the mattress. Talia breathed an inward sigh and turned to the cabinet.
“You mentioned poison. Shouldn’t you take something for a fever? Or a draught for the pain…”
“I am in no pain, nor do I have a fever.”
She paid him no mind, rummaging through the drawers until she came upon a phial of Mandrake extract.
Unstopping the vial to confirm the contents, Talia poured a measure into a teacup and held it out to him.
“Here. Drink it down.”
Varkas merely stared at the cup.
Did he suspect she was trying to feed him something vile?
As she glared at him irritably, Varkas ran a hand over the curve of her waist and murmured,
“I will drink it if you feed it to me.”
Talia blinked in disbelief. His face remained utterly still, calmly waiting for her answer. That composed stillness finally jarred her frozen thoughts into motion.
“U-use your own hands!”
“I have always fed you. It is only fair to return the favour.”
Talia glanced back and forth between him and the cup, her face burning crimson.
The sheer audacity of his casual demand prickled at her pride.
She was on the verge of snapping that he could leave it if he didn’t want it, but changed her mind and took a sip of the bitter extract herself.
His eyes widened a fraction, as though he had not expected her to acquiesce.
As if to defy him, Talia took his face in both hands and pressed her lips against his, catching the faint scent of soap. Naturally, his arms drew around her waist.
Her hands reflexively caught his shoulder, but feeling the coarse texture of the bandages, she pulled them away in alarm. In that brief hesitation, his tongue parted her lips, warm and fluid.
Yielding to that quiet insistence, she let the medicine pass drop by drop into his mouth. But she lacked his practiced ease. When she felt the draught spill over to wet the corners of her lips, she tried to pull back, only for Varkas to cup her cheek and lick her chin clean.
Before she realized it, they were tangled on the bed, holding each other tight. Feeling his body, hardened with desire, pressing firm against her belly, Talia scrambled to prop herself up.
“No. I told you, not until your wound heals.”
“I will do nothing more. Just stay still like this.”
Varkas murmured against her, his voice low as his hand gently stroked her hair. Talia, who had been bracing to push him away, slowly went limp in his arms.
Beneath the drumming rain and the crackle of the hearth, a heavy heartbeat pulsed steadily against her.
END