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Long, slender fingers deftly peeled the jewel-like, glistening red fruit.
Accepting each piece he fed her, Talia quietly studied his face in the firelight.
Even while tending to her like a fledgling bird, Varkas kept his expression completely masked, giving nothing away.
Once, she would have died of curiosity trying to guess what lay beneath that veneer. Now, it no longer mattered.
Talia laid a hand on her lower abdomen, pressing down lightly. Beneath the taut flesh, she could feel the firm, swelling shape of her womb.
When she first learned she was with child, she had spent every waking moment terrified that something might go wrong.
Knowing her body made conceiving difficult only sharpened her dread. The slightest twinge in her lower belly sent cold panic through her veins, whispering that she was losing it; every minute shift in her flesh felt like an omen.
The one who ultimately put her fears to rest was, unexpectedly, the Shearkan healer.
Perhaps because she had buried a child of her own, Tiuran understood better than anyone what precautions had to be taken.
Though guarded at first, Talia gradually took the woman’s counsel to heart. After all, if anything befell the child, the healer’s own life would be forfeit; she would never dare repeat her past failure.
The knowledge of the Eastern sorceress proved useful, and under her care, Talia’s frayed nerves slowly settled. With her mind at ease, she could finally turn all her thoughts to the child itself.
‘By now… would it be about the size of a fist?’
Chewing on the seeds he fed her, Talia traced the curve of her rounding belly.
At first, this child was merely a necessity. She had calculated that bearing an heir to the House of Shearkan would ensure no one in the East could ever discard her—and even if Gareth took the throne, the child would serve as her shield.
She had never imagined that a life created solely for self-preservation could ignite such fierce curiosity in her.
Talia pictured the tiny creature nestled inside her.
Would it be delicate and fair, like a child of the fae?
Perhaps it already had hair and eyes. What color would they be?
Would it inherit her rich blonde hair and dark blue eyes, or take after Varkas, with pale, silvery-blonde hair and cool gray eyes flecked with silver?
Either way, it was bound to be the loveliest thing in the world.
With every passing day, the wonder grew.
Its face, its voice, its temper—she wanted to know it all. It consumed her entirely, until even Varkas, who had once filled every corner of her mind, was pushed to the periphery.
“Varkas. What will you do if it’s a girl?”
The question spilled out unexpectedly, murmured around a mouthful of seeds as she drifted in a languid daydream.
Having finished one pomegranate and reached for another, Varkas glanced up at her.
His brow furrowed sharply, as though the thought of the baby’s gender had never once crossed his mind.
A sudden knot of unease tightened in her chest.
Was he not curious about the child at all?
Now that she thought about it, though he often drew her onto his lap and rested his hand against her belly, he had never once spoken of the baby.
Perhaps he cared only for a male heir to preserve his bloodline.
As if to confirm her sinking dread, he muttered under his breath,
“…I’d rather not think about it.”
Talia stiffened, struck dumb.
Staring down at the paring knife in his hand, he added quietly,
“If she takes after you, every manner of vermin will come crawling. Keeping them at bay will be exhausting enough.”
Talia’s shoulders drew up instinctively.
Rather than taking offense at his grumbling, cold dread settled over her first.
If she bore a girl who looked like her, beasts would circle the child endlessly, just as he said. A terror she had never known clawed at her throat.
Talia pushed herself upright, her voice frantic.
“Then you must guard her with your life. You have to stay by her side, day and night, so no one can ever touch a hair on her head.”
Varkas turned back to her, the corners of his eyes narrowing in mild confusion, as if wondering why she felt the need to state something so obvious.
He gave a measured nod.
“Naturally. It is the duty of the head of the house to shield his daughter and keep her safe until a trustworthy husband is found.”
“Don’t speak such nonsense! I’ll never let her marry.”
Her voice flared, sharp and sudden.
Glaring at him with drawn brows, Talia curled both arms around her stomach as though someone were about to tear the babe from her, her voice turning shrill.
“I’m keeping her by my side forever. I will never, ever let her go.”
Varkas’s eyes widened slightly.
Only then did she realize how thick her voice had grown with tears. She could not comprehend why her eyes suddenly burned so fiercely.
Biting down hard on her trembling lip, the words that had been bottled up inside came spilling out.
“I will never leave my child alone in an unfamiliar place. I won’t let them shiver in terror among strangers, or choke down their loneliness with no one to turn to. I will always, always be there. I’ll hold them close every single night and keep them safe.”
What began as a desperate plea crumbled into an open sob. Before shame could take hold, a searing heat flared up from deep within her chest.
Talia grabbed a fistful of his sleeve, tugging urgently.
“You have to do the same.”
Through the haze of her tears, she saw his features tighten.
She shook his arm, demanding an answer.
“Tell me you will. Say it!”
Stunned into stillness by her sudden weeping, he cast aside whatever he was holding and climbed onto the bed.
Talia settled into his lap as if she belonged nowhere else, and his long, heavy arms immediately wrapped around her back.
“I will.”
His deep, low voice rumbled against the crown of her head.
Clutching his doublet as if she might rip the cloth, Talia peered straight into his pale, cool eyes.
“Do you swear it?”
“I swear it.”
“Promise me. No matter what comes, you will protect our child.”
A rough, calloused thumb wiped the dampness from beneath her eyes. His husky voice drifted over her forehead.
“Yes. I will do everything you ask, so stop crying.”
Talia parted her lips.
She wanted to push him further, to demand more.
‘You must put our child first. Before Gareth, before Ayla—before everyone.’
Yet she forced the words back down her throat.
If she caught even a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, she knew it would destroy her.
Swallowing her ragged breaths, Talia wound her arms around his neck, burying all her long-buried grief into his solid shoulder.
“Even… even if it’s a boy, I’m keeping him close. I won’t send him away to the Imperial Palace or the Temple.”
She felt the arms around her back draw tighter.
Varkas spoke, his voice heavy with solemn resolve.
“Yes. Son or daughter, we will keep them with us forever.”
For some reason, those words only made the ache in her heart swell higher.
Talia pressed her wet cheek deeper into the crook of his neck, and Varkas slowly, gently stroked her back.
It was a touch that felt like an oath—promising that all would be well, and that neither pain nor sorrow would ever reach her again.
And Talia desperately wanted to believe it.
END