It was still a subtle change to the eye, but because she was so lean, even the slightest swelling was unmistakably there.
He slipped his hand beneath her woolen surcoat, tracing slowly down from her navel toward her pubic bone over the thin silk chemise. Through the delicate cloth, the tightening firmness of her skin felt all the more vivid under his palm.
Fascinated by how that once-flat belly had begun to curve, he kept stroking her. Talia, curled up in his lap, shifted her hips uncomfortably.
He looked down at her face, concern in his eyes.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, it isn’t that…. It’s just, down there….”
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she faltered, awkwardly looking away toward the floor.
They had shared a bed nearly every night until discovering her pregnancy. He could not fathom why she was being so shy now, but sensing that his physical state made her uneasy, he shifted how he held her.
“It will subside in time. Pay it no mind.”
“How am I supposed to ignore it?”
She glared at him as if appalled.
He wondered if she had any idea that whenever she arched her brows like that, her striking face became only more provocative.
Suppressing the urge to take those pouting lips into his mouth, he listened as she prattled on.
“I heard it’s terribly painful for a man to stay like that. That… if it isn’t relieved for a long time, it causes real physical pain….”
“Who told you that?”
Her shoulders flinched. Only then did he realize his voice had dropped to a low, threatening growl.
Having no desire to frighten her, he made an effort to soften his tone.
“Who told you such a thing?”
“I don’t know. I just… heard it somewhere, a long time ago.”
She stammered, visibly rattled.
It was hardly difficult to guess where she had picked up such talk. Some scoundrel must have whispered it to her while she frequented the banquets at the Empress Palace.
The faces of the men who used to fawn over her, flirting incessantly, flashed through his mind. Just as he was narrowing down the candidates, she hastily changed the subject.
“Anyway, doesn’t it hurt when your body gets like that?”
“…And if it does?”
Varkas spoke curtly.
“If I say it hurts, what do you intend to do about it?”
A look of bewilderment washed over her face.
Biting her lower lip nervously, she murmured in a faint voice,
“I heard there are ways to… take care of it, even without doing that….”
· · ·
“Should I… show you?”
Varkas felt a sharp throb at the back of his head and frowned.
His throat burned to demand who had taught her such things. But as he swallowed the harsh words rising to his tongue, a soft, tentative touch settled against his waist.
With a heavy gaze, he watched her push up the hem of his shirt.
As if afraid of the skin beneath, her fingers hesitated for a long while near his taut abdomen before slipping beneath his belt.
In that instant, his blood seemed to rush in reverse. The mere sight of her long, delicate fingers—like finely carved jade—clumsily working at his belt drove his arousal to a dangerous pitch.
He seized her wrist.
“Stop.”
Startled, she looked up at him. Her moist blue eyes and the flush rising around them were devastatingly alluring.
He squeezed his eyes shut, repeating to himself like a mantra that she was carrying a child.
“Do not concern yourself with my body.”
“But… won’t it hurt if you just leave it like this?”
“It does not hurt.”
“I heard it isn't good for you to hold it in all the time….”
A vein pulsed at his temple as he glared at her.
He wanted to take those lips spouting someone else’s words and torment them until they were bruised. Barely mastering the violent urge, he spoke in a measured voice.
“I do not know who fed you such nonsense, but forget it. It is nothing more than a cheap trick to prey on a woman’s pity.”
“…Is it really not uncomfortable?”
“Not in the least.”
He lied with a completely composed face.
She regarded him with lingering suspicion, but soon seemed convinced, resting her head against his chest.
Because she believed him entirely and leaned her weight into him, his lower half was pressed firmly against her.
Struggling to steady his ragged breathing, Varkas feigned calm and gently stroked the back of her head.
There was no reason for her to worry over the petty discomforts of his body.
Thanks to her eating better since the pregnancy, she was putting on healthy weight, but she remained small and fragile.
Hadn’t the healing sorceresses all insisted she needed absolute rest? He had no intention of placing any burden on her.
“I care far more about Your Highness’s condition than my own. Are you unwell anywhere?”
“No. Aside from feeling sleepy all the time and getting hungry quickly, nothing feels very different.”
She tilted her head, idly patting her belly. He watched her for a moment before cupping her soft cheek with care.
He was noticing far more changes than she was. Her slightly higher body warmth, the faint rosy cast to her skin, her deepened scent, and the fuller curves of her frame….
“Are you… are you truly alright? Down there, it’s getting even more….”
He let out a heavy sigh. If he went on holding her like this, his control would snap.
“Guests have arrived, so I must go back out. Stay here and rest in the room.”
As he set her gently on the seat beside him and rose, her eyes followed him in utter bewilderment.
“You’re going out like that?”
Her wide eyes flicked down to his lower body.
Varkas pulled the tunka down from the wall and spoke in a sharp edge.
“I will take care of it myself, so stop meddling with what is between my legs.”
Her face flushed a furious, dark red.
“Who are you calling a wanton! I only worried you’d make a fool of yourself!”
Having roughly wrapped the loose coat around himself to hide the ridge, Varkas looked back at her with a troubled gaze.
Even the sight of her panting, her chest heaving with indignation, looked so suggestive to him that a flicker of annoyance stirred in his gut.
He dragged a hand through his hair, leaned down before her, and spoke as if coaxing a child.
“Your Highness’s well-being is the only thing that matters right now. I would prefer you not trouble your head with anything else.”
“…You don’t have to treat me like an invalid. Marisen said I was in better condition than expected.”
“Better than expected does not mean you are out of danger.”
His answer was stiff, but his fingers gently swept aside the stray hair on her forehead.
Now, she took his touch as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Seeing those eyes, once so guarded, turn soft and drowsy sent a sharp heat racing from his waist to the nape of his neck.
His resolve to act the gentleman shattered in an instant, and he pressed his mouth over hers.
It was an act bordering on torment for himself, but he could bear it no longer.
Greedily devouring the slick, damp flesh of her lips and her small tongue, Varkas broke away only when a knock sounded at the door. The Head Steward’s voice followed at once.
“Your Grace, the guests are inquiring when they might be received. What shall I tell them?”
“Tell them I will be down shortly.”
END