A cold, mocking smile touched the corners of Varkas’s lips as he rested his chin in his hand and looked down at the woman.
A bitter taste filled his mouth, remembering his wife’s threat—that she would leave alongside this very woman if he ever dared send her back to the Imperial Palace.
“I-in any case, Her Grace has no use for me anymore. So…”
As the silence stretched, the woman rambled on, her face taut with anxiety.
Varkas cut her off by rising from his chair. With a start, she snapped her mouth shut, watching him warily.
Tearing his eyes away from that irritating sight, Varkas gave his orders to the maids.
“Take her to the kitchen at once.”
“Y-Your Grace, my request…”
“Once she begins eating on her own, I will send you back to the Imperial Palace.”
Delight bloomed across the woman’s swarthy face. Then he poured cold water over it.
“However, if she rejects even the food you prepare, you will be thrown out of this castle with nothing but the clothes on your back.”
The rush of color drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale.
He brushed past the woman, who looked ready to protest, and stepped out of the drawing room. Crossing the hall, he was about to head up the stairs when an urgent voice called after him.
“Your Grace!”
Turning his head, Varkas frowned as he saw Rgen entering the annex.
The man crossed the hall in a few quick strides and asked after his wife.
“How is Her Grace the Grand Duchess? Is she still…”
“What brings you here?”
Varkas cut him short, fatigue etched into his features.
The knight glanced toward the top of the stairs and got straight to the point.
“The council has adjourned. Here is the list of candidates to be appointed lords of the northeastern regions, including Tarlin. If you approve, we will begin the formal appointments immediately.”
Rgen presented a bundle of parchment from under his arm. As Varkas took it and skimmed through, the knight added cautiously,
“Also, Lord Daren has dispatched a messenger. He wishes to assess the situation and learn when Your Grace might return.”
Varkas looked up from the document.
Rgen swallowed dryly. “What should I tell the messenger?”
“Tell him I will return once the Season of Rest has passed.”
Varkas replied flatly, folding the parchment and sliding it inside his tunic.
Rgen looked taken aback. He clearly had not expected Varkas to remain in Kalmor for so long.
Without giving him a chance to ask further, Varkas turned and climbed the stairs.
Stepping into the bedroom, he found his wife fast asleep under the drug’s influence. He stood watching her for a long time as she breathed softly, long lashes lowered, before walking over to the table and pulling out a chair.
A murky sky stretched beyond the window. It looked like it would snow tonight.
Talia finally regained consciousness as dusk fell. He summoned a maid at once and had a meal brought up.
Before long, the table was laid with egg soup, cakes packed with dried fruit, and steamed quail. After examining it all, Varkas dismissed the maids with a wave of his hand.
“That will do. You may go.”
“Please ring for us if you need anything, Your Grace.”
Once the two maids had departed, he portioned a modest amount onto a tray and carried it to the bedside.
“Eat.”
When he set the tray down on the mattress, the woman, who had been staring blankly out the window, finally turned her head toward him.
Her eyes were steeped in sheer loathing. Ignoring it, he pushed a spoon into her hand. A weary voice drifted to his ears.
“Just how long do you intend to keep up this pointless farce?”
“That is what I ought to be asking you.”
Varkas replied impassively, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“How long do you intend to drag out this tedious struggle?”
Eyes as deep and dark as an abyss glared into his.
Varkas paid them no mind and held out the bowl of egg porridge.
Talia’s eyes wavered as she looked down at it. She seemed to realize it was different from the usual fare.
Narrowing her eyes at the bowl’s contents, she turned her gaze back to him. “Who made this?”
“Your nanny prepared it,” Varkas said calmly.
“I thought Your Grace might eat if it was made by her hand, so I had her cook.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Talia flung the bowl.
With the sharp crack of shattering earthenware, the thick broth splattered across the carpet in a messy sprawl.
“You forced her to make it anyway. Did you think I’d eat it gladly just because you dangled her in front of me?”
Her thin shoulders trembled as her lips twisted. She seemed to be trying to sneer at him, but the tears welling in her eyes only made her look pathetic.
Her cracked voice spat on:
“That woman means nothing to me anymore! I’m as sick of her as I am of you, and I discarded her long ago! So please, just get out, all of you!”
“If Your Grace refuses to eat, that woman will vanish from your life for good.”
Chest heaving, she froze.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Is she not the Empress’s creature? If she is of no use to Your Grace, I have no reason to keep her under my roof.”
“Does that mean… you’re sending Nanny back to the capital?”
A cold smile curved Varkas’s lips.
“Why would I go to such trouble? If the Empress sends an escort to fetch her, I won’t stop them, but I have no intention of sparing a single soldier for that woman’s sake.”
A flicker of terror crossed her strikingly beautiful face. It was the first real emotion she had displayed since losing that wolf.
Seeing the woman—who had seemed utterly hollow except when flying into a rage—now so visibly shaken made something knot unpleasantly in his chest. Fighting to keep it from his voice, he added dryly,
“If she is fortunate, she might find rough work somewhere in Kalmor. Though the odds of her dying in the gutter are far greater, of course.”
“…Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening? Whatever for?”
Varkas leaned in, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
“Did you not just say she means nothing to you? How could throwing her out be a threat?”
She bit her bruised lip.
Varkas held her with a chilled gaze, then stood and walked toward the door.
Just as his fingers closed around the handle, a trembling voice broke behind him.
“I’ll eat.”
When he turned back, still holding the handle, he was met with a pale face stamped with defeat.
The words came out as if spat through clenched teeth.
“I’ll eat. Just leave me alone.”
After standing still for a moment, Varkas walked back to the table.
He ladled a small portion into a fresh bowl and set it beside her. Talia picked it up, hands shaking with suppressed fury. With an expression as if she were forcing down pure filth, she began swallowing the food bit by bit.
When she had scraped the bowl clean, she lifted her face, pale and slick with cold sweat, and glared at him.
“Are you satisfied now?”
Without a word, he cleared the empty dish.
Talia, watching him with shaking eyes, ground out between her teeth,
“I did as you wanted! Now get out of this room!”
“You may try to force yourself to vomit, so I will stay for several hours before I leave.”
That response seemed to snap the final thread of her reason. She seized whatever lay within arm’s reach of the bed and hurled it at him.
“Get out! I told you to get out! I did everything you wanted! Why are you still hovering around me?!”
Varkas tilted his head back slightly to dodge a flying goblet, closed the distance in an instant, and caught her wrists. He feared she might work herself into a fit and faint again while thrashing so violently.
He pulled a chair close and gathered the nearly convulsing woman firmly against his chest.
Talia began to sob, flailing with wilder desperation.
“No…! Don’t touch me…! Just having you near makes my flesh crawl!”
END