The beast stood frozen for a moment, as if conflicted, then slowly stepped out from the thicket.
Varkas gently stroked the wolf’s damp fur. Though the beast wrinkled its snout in distaste, it quietly endured his touch.
Perhaps this wolf belonged to an exceptional breed with an intellect far surpassing that of an ordinary animal. It was well known that alpha direwolves possessed keen social intelligence and an uncanny capacity to bond.
Raised by Talia from a pup, it had likely grown attuned to her every emotion.
Having settled on that rational explanation, Varkas drew his hand back from the beast's head and looked into its expressive, blue-gray eyes.
One thing was certain: the creature harbored a fierce attachment to her. And she, in turn, lavished all her affection upon it.
Mulling over that realization, Varkas shifted his gaze to the headstone surrounded by clusters of flowers.
She had evidently come here often with the beast. The mere thought of it brought a dull ache to his chest, heavy as swallowed lead.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes tightly.
If not for this wolf, she would have had to endure this place entirely alone.
Once he reminded himself of that, whatever the beast truly was no longer mattered.
“…Let us go.”
As if understanding his words, the wolf fell in behind him without a sound.
Varkas skirted the chapel and approached the inner gate.
“The wolf has been found. Tell the guards to call off the search.”
The gatekeeper flinched at the sight of the direwolf, then hurried toward the training grounds.
Varkas stepped through the arched gateway into the courtyard. The wolf trotted beside him, then broke into a run across the flowerbeds and vanished into the Great Hall.
Standing alone in the garden, Varkas watched it go before turning toward the path that led around to the rear grounds. Before long, the window of her bedchamber came into view.
He gazed up for a long while at the small silhouette perched on the sill.
The woman, who had been hugging her knees with her forehead pressed against the pane, suddenly glanced over her shoulder. At that exact moment, the massive shadow of the beast appeared behind the glass.
Varkas looked away just as she threw her arms around the wolf’s neck.
Above, a hazy veil of clouds drifted across the sky.
Watching the overcast heavens threaten rain, he turned and began to retrace his steps.
With the onset of autumn, the unsettled air in Kalmor, stirred up by the crackdown on heretics, gradually subsided.
Inevitably, the dark rumors surrounding the Grand Duchess quieted as well. Because she remained sequestered within the castle walls, the people of Kalmor seemed to swiftly forget both the Grand Duchess—fair as an earth spirit—and the gray wolf that shadowed her.
Yet it was nothing more than an artificial hush imposed by the inquisitions. Most citizens held their tongues, terrified that merely uttering her name might brand them heretics.
The atmosphere inside the castle was no different. The vassals and the servants alike treated her as though she did not exist.
Though they privately suspected Talia was the one who had drawn the raiders down upon them, terror of the Grand Duke’s wrath kept them silent.
Yet, despite her absolute isolation, she seemed strangely peaceful.
Once her confinement was lifted, Talia carried on as though nothing had happened, wandering the rear garden or strolling through the castle halls with the wolf at her heels. It reached a point where she seemed almost to relish being treated like a ghost.
Watching his wife slowly regain her color, her previous hollow exhaustion fading, Varkas felt a strange tangle of relief and bitterness.
He was glad to see she was no longer suffering. Yet that very absence of suffering struck a bitter chord within him.
As if to outrun those contradictory feelings, Varkas buried himself deeper in his duties.
As that turbulent autumn wore on, an urgent missive arrived from Daren. It warned of suspicious movements near the Balto border and requested his immediate return.
Varkas made ready to depart at once. Returning to the front less than four months after his arrival should have been a burden, yet his chest felt lighter. Remaining in Raedgo Castle had grown unbearable.
He was weary of seeing her stiffen like a pale ghost whenever their paths crossed, and weary of forcing his eyes away from her.
He told himself that once he rode out this time, he would not set foot in the castle for a very long while.
“Why not let me go in your stead, Brother?”
As Varkas was reviewing supply lines with Beirof, Lucas burst into the study and made the offer.
Varkas looked up from the map toward his younger brother. Having spent the summer leading the garrison in hunting down the remnants of the raiders, Lucas carried himself with far more authority than before.
With a grave look on his bronzed face, Lucas strode up to the desk.
“The castle is still unsettled. It would be better for morale if you stayed here to steady the populace.”
Varkas set down his quill and looked into his brother’s amber eyes. An undeniable tension flickered within their troubled depths.
Since the previous Duke’s death, Lucas had built a respectable name for himself as a soldier. Yet he was still woefully inexperienced in governance and politics.
Well aware of his own shortcomings, Lucas seemed worried that Kalmor would spiral into chaos the moment the Grand Duke departed.
Varkas gave a low sigh.
“The lords in the southeast are stirring. If they truly are colluding with the northern forces, this could escalate beyond a border skirmish into full civil war. You do not have the experience to handle so delicate a situation.”
“Then leave Daren in command while I learn at your side—”
“Enough.”
Varkas cut him off without hesitation.
“What sense does it make for both the heir and the second son to ride off to the front at once? Your place is here, overseeing this house while I am away. It is time you learned what it means to carry the duties of the Grand Duke.”
Lucas’s face fell.
“I do not have the ability for that.”
“If you lack it, build it,” Varkas said coldly.
“You are the sole heir to this house. Should anything happen to me, the mantle falls to you. Stop this timid whining and bear your share of the weight.”
“What could possibly happen to a man who survived Agor’s Deadly Poison without a scratch? Rumors are already running wild through the East that the Grand Duke of Shearkan is immortal.”
Lucas spoke with forced lightness, trying to break the stifling tension.
“You’ll easily live to be a hundred, Brother. I’ll be an old man with a bent back long before you fall.”
“I have no intention of holding this seat for so long.”
At that dry reply, the faint smile dropped from Lucas’s lips. Varkas went on, his voice flat.
“If you truly loathe the thought of succeeding me, marry and father a child. Once your heir is old enough to stand on their own feet, I will hand over the title.”
“…Are you serious?”
“Have you ever known me to make empty promises?”
· · ·
“I will officially name you my successor before long. Build up your standing so no one can object when the day comes. I am tired of wrangling with the vassals.”
Having spoken his mind, Varkas folded the map and handed it to Beirof.
The aide, standing rigid with a shock matching Lucas’s, took the document and quickly withdrew.
Once the heavy door clicked shut, Lucas spoke cautiously.
“Is this because of my sister-in-law?”
Varkas’s gaze turned cold and dark. Lucas flinched, then pressed on, his voice stiffening.
“Is it because her body cannot easily bear children, so you mean to put me up as a shield?”
“Lucas Raedgo Shearkan.”
The deadly edge in his tone cut his brother’s words short.
Varkas added quietly, “Do not cross the line. This castle is troubled enough without giving them cause to gossip about the Grand Duke wringing his own brother’s neck.”
Lucas clenched his jaw.
Varkas picked up his discarded cloak and draped it over his shoulders. As he turned toward the door, Lucas let out a strained murmur.
“I will never understand you, Brother. Why treat her so coldly to her face, when you go to such lengths to shield her behind her back?”
END