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“Ah… I see.”
Tairon found nothing else to add.
Whether or not Varkas noticed the soldiers staring blankly at him, he sat calmly atop his warhorse and gave a blunt nod.
“Forgive me for delaying our return.”
Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, he turned his mount and started forward.
Feeling the lingering tension drain from his shoulders, Tairon slid his blade back into its sheath.
Daren spoke up, as though trying to ease the strange air between them.
“You’ve heard Her Grace is expecting, haven’t you? As it’s her first pregnancy, the Grand Duke seems quite anxious. She has always been a picky eater with a delicate stomach, so he is taking extraordinary care with her meals.”
‘Not that he was much different before…’
Watching his liege’s retreating back, Tairon swallowed the sarcasm rising in his throat.
This was the same man who had run a spear through a mountain of a warrior simply because he dared lay a hand on his wife.
And when the Grand Duchess collapsed? He had rare provisions brought in from the capital and waited on her meals himself like a personal servant.
Now that an heir was on the way, it went without saying how much further he would go.
“I have also heard the joyous news that an heir is on the way. My sincerest congratulations, Your Grace.”
The merchant, who had been following quietly at a distance, chimed in. He clearly knew his fate hung on the young Grand Duke’s whim.
Having failed to conceal his displeasure throughout the journey after being practically dragged from the North, he now wore a slick smile and flattered his captor intently.
“It is only a modest gesture, but our guild has prepared a celebratory gift. Hearing that Her Grace enjoys fresh fruit, we mobilized our trade routes to bring in freshly harvested produce… though I cannot say whether it will suit Her Grace’s palate.”
As they cleared the woods and crested the hill, the Grand Duke glanced back over his shoulder. A faint glimmer of interest flickered in eyes that had previously treated the merchant like a roadside stone.
“You reside in the North, yet you seem remarkably well informed on affairs here.”
“A merchant’s ears and mouth move faster than the wind. Word that Your Grace seeks rare fruit for the Grand Duchess has already spread far among the traders.”
“…I must hope such talent for gathering intelligence is never put to the wrong use.”
At that quiet warning, a ripple of tension stiffened the merchant’s slick, oily face. He seemed to realize only then that this was not a man to be swayed by trivial bribes or flattery.
Swallowing dryly, the merchant lowered his eyes with a strained laugh. Varkas regarded him coldly for a moment, then urged his horse onward.
Tairon quickened his pace behind him. Before long, the massive outer walls of Kalmor rose over the crest of the hill.
Daren spurred his mount forward and bellowed orders.
“Zram warriors have breached the Armund Forest! Dispatch a search party at once and reinforce the guard along all northwestern roads!”
At his booming shout, the sentries lining the ramparts scrambled to relay the report to the garrison.
Leaving the stir behind, Varkas rode through the gates and cut across the city center.
At last, the towering bastions of Raedgo Castle filled their sight.
Entering the courtyard, Tairon took in the familiar stone walls he had not seen in nearly a month. A deep fatigue he had not realized he was carrying settled heavily upon him.
He dismounted and rolled his stiff shoulders.
When he had departed for the North on Varkas’s orders, the threat of war had been mounting toward a breaking point, but it had since subsided beneath the surface. The season of rest had set in, freezing the northern supply lines.
Moreover, Varkas’s relentless pressure on the conservative nobility had taken toll. Sensing that the tide was turning against them, several northern lords had begun to lie low.
If they could secure control over the northern trade networks during this lull, not even House Heimdal would dare provoke an open conflict.
‘Now it all comes down to how we handle him.’
Tairon watched the merchant whisper quietly to his retainers in a corner of the courtyard, then turned his attention back to Varkas.
His liege was handing over his kill to the kitchen servants. Seeing that unhurried posture, the tension left Tairon’s frame once more.
It seemed the lord was far more concerned with what would grace his wife’s table than with any brewing rebellion.
Stripping off his bloodstained gloves, Varkas gave precise directions to the staff.
“Roast the most tender one. Dress the rest for a stew, and keep the seasoning light.”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
Taking the five pheasants, the servants hurried toward the kitchens without delay. Seeing them move with practiced efficiency, it was clear this was not the first time their master had carried fresh game home himself.
Surely his true purpose on patrol that morning had not been hunting.
As Tairon eyed him with quiet doubt, Varkas turned toward the keep and came to an abrupt halt.
Tairon followed his gaze and caught his breath.
Near the entrance of the inner castle, seated beside a modest fountain, was a fair-haired woman bundled in silver fur.
The pale winter light bathed her face, and his mind went blank.
When he had first seen her, she carried a chilling, forbidding air, so brittle she seemed on the verge of shattering. Now she sat wrapped in a gentle pearl glow, warmed by a languid vitality.
While Tairon stood transfixed by the sight, the Lord of the East crossed the stone courtyard toward her without a word.
“Why are you sitting out here?”
Her wide eyes, which had been turned dreamily toward the sky, shifted to her husband.
A faint smile touched the face that had so long remained cold and distant.
“I came out to watch the snow.”
“It is not yet cold enough to snow.”
“No, a few flakes drifted down earlier. If I wait, more may fall.”
“You can see that from your chambers.”
“It feels stifling to remain indoors all day. Marisen said walking would do me good.”
Talia’s brow knit slightly, as if tired of being scolded.
“If you mean to scold me every time I step outside, why give me this fur in the first place?”
“I did not give it to you so you could wander the grounds so carelessly clad.”
“What is wrong with what I am wearing?”
The corners of her eyes tilted sharply as her temper flared. With a faint fever flush touching her skin, she looked strikingly provocative.
Whether struck by the same thought or not, a subtle tension rippled through the man’s stone-carved features.
Seemingly oblivious to the shift, Talia pressed him further.
“Well? Is there something amiss with my dress?”
Varkas drew a measured breath, shed his heavy riding cloak, and tossed it to the page behind him. Then, without answering, he lifted his wife into his arms.
“Bear with me, even if I smell of sweat and blood.”
Before she could voice a protest, he strode toward the main doors. The retainers and guards gathered in the yard stared after them in silence.
With her golden hair, clear blue eyes, and pale skin set against his dark, towering frame, they looked like figures stepping out of another world.
“…They truly make a handsome pair.”
The northern merchant let out a low murmur of admiration.
Hearing those words, Tairon frowned slightly.
Indeed, they looked as well-matched as a pair of thoroughbreds. It was almost jarring to remember that until recently, they had lived as bitter enemies.
END