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“I’m sorry for frightening you.”
He wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders and stroked her tense back. Talia released a breath she seemed to have been holding for a long time, burying her face into his chest.
The heartbeat thrumming through her thin nightgown felt far faster and more erratic than usual.
“You were completely still… like a dead man.”
“It only looked that way.”
Varkas patted her back to soothe her, glancing out toward the window.
The sun had already climbed high. Perhaps the exhaustion from the prolonged campaign was finally catching up with him; since returning to Raedgo Castle, he had been falling into heavy, late slumbers.
Drawing a deep breath, he cast off the imagined stickiness of cold blood that still felt clung to his flesh.
“During my years at the monastery, I was trained to suppress my physical responses to an extreme degree. From that habit, I sometimes sink into a sleep so profound it resembles suspended animation.”
“Are you saying… you were merely asleep?”
She peered up at him, her eyes laced with mistrust.
Varkas cradled her pale cheek in his palm, brushing away the dampness from the corner of her eye with his thumb before replying calmly.
“Yes. It has been a long time since I slept so soundly.”
“Are you truly all right? There isn't anything wrong, or…”
“There is nothing wrong.”
At his resolute answer, the stiffness gradually left her shoulders.
Letting out a drawn-out sigh, she muttered under her breath.
“My heart nearly stopped because of you. You wouldn't stir, your skin was like ice, and I couldn't hear you breathe at all…”
He looked down at his wife as she grumbled.
Her lashes, heavy with tears, cast a golden sheen downward. The blue beneath them shone all the more vivid against the faint flush rimming her lids.
He dipped his head lower, studying those eyes.
It was only natural to be terrified if the man sharing your bed suddenly seemed to stop breathing.
Yet why did such a reasonable reaction cause this strange flutter in his chest?
He touched his lips to the tip of her reddened nose and whispered,
“Were you afraid I wouldn't open my eyes?”
“…Why ask what is already plain to see?”
Talia muttered crossly, her gaze darting away in self-conscious discomfort.
In the past, she would have recoiled and denied it vehemently. Seeing her admit it with such defenseless honesty made a corner of his chest ache with a dull pang.
Yet suspicion stirred alongside it. What could have happened over the past six months to alter her temper so drastically?
Had she endured something terrible enough to drive her back into leaning on him?
While he studied her with searching eyes, Talia, who had been shifting her gaze uneasily, suddenly pressed herself flush against his bare chest.
Varkas stiffened slightly in surprise.
Even through the thin fabric, the soft, full curve of her breast pressed firmly against him. She looped her arms around his waist and tipped her head back, bold and provocative.
“…If you're going to kiss me, just do it.”
His thoughts scattered into mist in an instant, and his eyes fell to her lips.
They were still faintly swollen from the relentless kisses of the previous night.
At the sight of that crimson, crushed-petal seam, the chill that had lingered in his veins evaporated completely, replaced by a sudden rush of heat that brought sweat to his brow.
Cupping her chin, he leaned down until their warm, damp breaths mingled together.
He brushed his lips softly against hers, rubbing back and forth before slipping his tongue into the parted, moist heat.
Naturally shifting, she clambered onto his lap and held fast to his back.
The supple warmth of her thighs pressing against his hardened hips brought an almost painful tightness to his lower belly, yet he had no desire to push her away.
Varkas wrapped his arms around her waist, crushing her tighter against him.
How much time had passed?
When the heat coursing through him threatened to overwhelm his self-control, he tore his lips away with a rasping breath and slowly leaned back. As he made to leave the bed, her fingers caught his arm.
“Why… aren't you going to finish?”
Looking down at her unsatisfied expression, blood rushed so violently to his head that his throat pulsed.
He barely held onto the fraying thread of his restraint.
“…The sun is already high. There is a mountain of duties waiting for me, so I must rise.”
Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, he dropped a brief kiss on her pale brow. Talia, watching him with an inscrutable look, asked in a slightly huskier voice,
“When will your duties end today?”
“…I should be finished before sunset.”
“Then come back to this room tonight. I'll be waiting…”
Talia whispered, tracing the raised veins on the back of his hand.
At the unmistakable invitation, a fierce heat coiled tight in his gut.
His Adam's apple bobbed heavily as though choking down the rising flame.
A sheen of sweat broke along his spine as he fought the urge to pin her into the mattress right then and there. Forcing his face into a mask of composure, he placed his palm over her hand.
“…Understood.”
He lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles before finally rising from the bed.
He wanted nothing more than to lift her into his arms and carry her up to the second-floor chamber, but he knew that if he touched that warm, yielding body again, his restraint would shatter entirely.
Pulling the bell cord to summon a maid to assist her dressing, he threw his coat over his bare shoulders and stepped out. He halted just past the threshold when he noticed the enormous shadow lingering beside the door.
Crouched like a sentinel beside the bedroom entrance, the wolf watched him quietly with slate-blue eyes.
Contrary to his worry that the beast would snarl in fury over its master being carried away, it remained entirely still. In fact, the look it leveled at him seemed almost to pity his predicament.
Disturbed by those slate-blue eyes that seemed laden with a human range of thought, Varkas turned and strode briskly down the corridor.
Dressing and preparing himself in short order, he made his way to the council hall to deal with the affairs he had delayed that morning.
As he stepped inside the outer ward, built specifically for military operations, the knights gathered around the long table rose as one in salute.
Varkas answered with a brief inclination of his head, took his place at the head of the table, and pulled a stack of documents toward him.
Most were reports on skirmishes between border fiefs or devastation left by Zram raiders. While the East's eyes had been fixed upon the Northern war, the tribes had been steadily pushing their reach inward.
Though the Eastern horsemen had relentlessly pursued their tracks, they had yet to pinpoint their main camp.
Varkas lowered the report with a quiet exhale and turned to Lucas, who sat just beside him.
“The Grand Priest suspects there are people within Shearkan assisting the Zram. What is your judgment on this?”
“I’d prefer to brush it aside as empty noise… but given the recent patterns of their raids, the idea of an inside collaborator cannot be dismissed.”
Lucas dragged a hand through his thick brown hair and continued,
“The raiders are hitting our posts right at the guard shifts with uncanny precision. They sweep into outer villages or smaller towns, slaughter the watch, empty the armories or granaries, and vanish clean into thin air. Without someone inside providing shelter, it would be an impossible feat.”
“Have you swept the area?”
“We conducted several inspections… but turned up no distinct tracks or findings.”
Varkas drummed his fingers against the table as he skimmed through the casualty reports left by the Zram, letting out a sharp click of his tongue.
“Investigate every individual who draws suspicion. Concealing dozens of barbarians requires substantial means. Tell the investigators to focus their inquiries on prominent families who have held roots in the East for generations.”
Issuing his orders in his usual calm, even cadence, Varkas looked up toward Beirof, standing at his right hand.
“Have the scouts sent beyond the walls not reported back yet?”
“Not yet, Your Grace. It seems they are still verifying the area.”
Varkas nodded, turning to the next matter on the agenda. It was a discussion on enlisting new recruits to replenish the diminished ranks. Scanning the proposed budget allocation, he pressed his seal to the paper.
With the major administrative business concluded, Varkas succinctly shared the intelligence the guildmaster of the White Silver Alliance had delivered the previous night.
The assembled knights did not lend much weight to the Northerner's warning. At this juncture, the probability of the war's tides reversing was virtually nonexistent.
Even so, the intelligence that the rebel commander might have slipped out of Amasec was not something to be brushed away lightly.
END