Staring intently at him, Lucas added with a sneer, “Isn’t that right? It’s not as if you married Sister-in-law because the Emperor forced your hand. You wanted her so badly that you tossed your fiancée aside and snatched up His Majesty’s offer the moment it came, didn’t you?”
Varkas, who had cast only a cold glance over his shoulder, turned away and kept walking without a word.
Lucas, visibly bristling at being dismissed, scowled and hastened after him.
“I struck a nerve, didn’t I?”
· · ·
“Don’t you think that’s terribly unfair, Brother? You took a woman of absolutely no use to this house as your wife, yet you demand sacrifice only from Raina and me?”
“Sacrifice?”
Varkas, cutting across the training ground in silence, looked back with eyes like ice.
Lucas reflexively took a step back.
It felt as though a bleak gale had blown up out of nowhere. Carrying a chill that seemed to cut right through the early summer heat, the Grand Duke closed the distance between them, his mouth curving in a faint, cold arc.
“Ridiculous. Just how easy a life have you led that you dare speak of ‘sacrifice’ over a mere political match?”
At that dreadfully quiet voice, Lucas went rigid to the spine. Varkas leaned closer, his features cast in cruel, chiseled perfection, and spoke with deliberate slowness.
“Let me ask you this. If you intend to shirk even the most basic duty expected of a noble, how exactly do you plan to pay for the privileges you have enjoyed your entire life?”
Lucas bit his lower lip, unable to muster a single word of rebuttal.
Looking down quietly at his brother’s flushed, humiliated face, Varkas let out a slow breath and spoke in a softened, more reasonable tone. “There is no need to rebel so early. I intend to lay out the best possible choices for both of you. All you and Raina must do is choose the person you prefer from a wide pool of candidates.”
“…And if there isn’t a single one I like?”
“Then pick the one who offends your eyes the least.”
Varkas’s voice hardened once more.
“The time for throwing tantrums has long passed. It is time both of you contributed something to this house.”
Lucas clenched his fists tight, his voice dropping low and heavy.
“I understand… perfectly.”
“Good to hear.”
Answering flatly, Varkas gave his brother’s shoulder a firm squeeze, let go, and walked on. Lucas watched his retreating back with sullen eyes, then turned and headed in the opposite direction.
Leaving the castle, Varkas attended a meeting at the Kalmor assembly hall to review the proposed legislative amendments that had been under discussion.
Once those tedious administrative procedures were finished, he stopped by the garrison headquarters on the city’s outskirts to inspect the detailed reports of raider sightings and the affected regions.
By the time his duties were done and he returned to the castle, twilight had swallowed the horizon whole.
Glancing up at the violet sky, Varkas tossed his reins to the groom running out to meet him and strode toward the main keep.
“Welcome back, Your Grace.”
As he stepped into the grand hall, the servants lighting the chandeliers bowed in unison.
Acknowledging them with a slight nod, Varkas headed straight up the stairs.
He was about to make for the bedchamber adjoining his study on the third floor when a hesitant voice came from behind him.
“Y-Your Grace.”
Turning, he saw the head butler standing there, looking tense.
Varkas raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Her Grace the Grand Duchess is currently in the second-floor bedchamber. She asked to be informed the moment you returned…”
Varkas frowned, but changed course without a word.
Descending the stairs, he spotted the guards posted outside the bedchamber door.
With a flick of his chin signaling them to step down, he knocked. Only after a long silence did a somewhat muffled voice answer from inside.
“Come in.”
As Varkas opened the door and entered, the dense, bitter scent of medicinal herbs made his brow furrow. The air hung hazy, as though incense had been burning for hours on end.
Striding across the room, he threw the window wide open. He put out the smoldering censor and cast a displeased look toward the bed.
“Are you trying to suffocate yourself? Just how long have you been—”
Varkas broke off his reprimand. His eyes had found his wife lying across the bed, looking utterly drained.
One arm was draped over the neck of the wolf that occupied most of the mattress, and she murmured in a thick, heavy voice, “I couldn’t help it. Khan was… acting strange today…”
His brow furrowed deeper as he walked to the bedside.
Unlike yesterday, the wolf was not dead to the world. Though its body was limp from the medicinal smoke and its breathing dragged heavily, its eyes remained fixed obsessively on its master.
Varkas’s face hardened as he caught the strange, possessive gleam in that gaze.
Sensing his mood, his wife offered by way of excuse, “I think he’s on edge because I left him alone last night. And with him not being allowed outside all of a sudden… I suppose his frustrations have built up.”
“Did this beast cause trouble today?”
At his cold question, a guarded look flashed across her features.
“Khan didn’t cause any trouble. He just… seemed anxious.”
If she had resorted to such potent herbs to soothe the beast, it must have been in a state of severe agitation.
He looked down coldly at the creature, which fought desperately against sleep even through its ragged panting.
What could have set this thing on edge, when it had seemed placid enough this morning?
He let out a weary breath and sat on the edge of the mattress. At the dip in the bed, the wolf wrinkled its muzzle as though about to bare its fangs, shoving its head deeper into its master’s chest.
He frowned at the silent warning to keep away, but then she spoke quietly.
“I think I need to stay with Khan tonight.”
Varkas stared at her face, which looked scarcely less worn than the wolf’s, and gave a slow nod.
“Never mind me. Sleep.”
“…Can’t you stay here as well?”
Just as he moved to rise, she reached out and caught his sleeve.
After a brief hesitation, he pulled off his boots and climbed onto the bed.
As he settled beside her against the headboard, the wolf’s eyes shifted to him. Its gaze made no secret of its displeasure at the arrangement.
Ignoring the beast, he lightly brushed her forehead, damp with a sheen of perspiration. She felt slightly feverish.
“I will keep watch over Khan. Sleep in peace.”
At those words, her eyelids fluttered shut in apparent relief. He watched her features until her breathing settled into a quiet, rhythmic pattern.
It was a disappointing outcome for a man who had anticipated holding her warm, pliant body after a long, searing kiss.
Yet, in another sense, it was a relief. Having steeled himself never to let her bear a child again, her recent advances had begun to test his endurance.
He leaned his head back against the headboard, gently stroking her silk-smooth hair.
As the breeze through the open window thinned the bitter haze, her sweet scent began to reclaim the room, bit by bit.
Breathing in that intoxicating fragrance, he stared ceaselessly at her tranquil face in the dying light of dusk.
Out of nowhere, his brother’s words echoed through his thoughts.
‘You married the woman you wanted, didn’t you, Brother?’
He knew it was true. But what of it? In a life this hollow, he was entitled to hold fast to at least one thing he desired.
Varkas lowered his eyes to her legs, drawn up to one side. Entangled in the hem of her skirt, her slender calves showed beneath the light summer quilt.
He reached out, tracing the faint red marks visible through the thin cloth.
The thought that she might fly into a rage if she woke crossed his mind, yet his fingers could not pull away from the long scar stretching from her knee to her thigh.
Though he revisited his past almost every night, he had never once dreamed of the moment that wound had been carved into her. Nor of the sight of her bleeding out upon the bed.
In waking reality, the memory stayed vivid as a brand, yet in the depth of sleep, it scattered like mist. Because this woman could never be his nightmare.
Unable to fight the urge to hold her any longer, he let his head sink onto the pillow and slid an arm beneath her neck.
As he gently drew her toward him, turning her away from the wolf, the beast—which had been resting its chin on the sheet—lifted its head.
For a second, an unreadable gleam flashed in its usually empty eyes.
After fixing its gaze on his face as though studying him, the beast hauled its heavy bulk up and pressed itself tight against her back, resting its short, thick gray muzzle right beside her head.
Varkas looked at the beast in sheer disbelief, then let out a sigh and wound his arm across her waist.
Her warm breath tickled his chest. Perhaps tonight, too, he would drown in a river of blood.
As if punishing him for defying the oath in his heart, the dream would surely turn cold and black.
Still, it did not matter.
Even as the heat slowly built through his veins, he did not loosen his hold on her.
END