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“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
She suddenly tilted her head toward him. He stared blankly at the halo of light tracing the delicate contours of her face, then looked away as a feverish heat, like vertigo, spread through his veins.
Somehow, he felt as though he should not look at her any longer.
He took off the cloak draped over his shoulders, wrapped it around her, and carefully lowered the sash of the window.
“Dinner has passed. It would be best for you to go inside.”
“Just a little longer…”
Curled beneath his cloak, she murmured with her chin resting on her knees.
“I want to watch the sun go down to the very end.”
He looked down at her slender shoulders and the nape of her neck with sunken eyes, then leaned his back against the wall with a low sigh. A faint smile touched her lips.
Feeling an inexplicable tightening in his chest, he turned his gaze toward the setting sun.
As the world sank into a crimson afterglow, the cool evening air seeping through the frame gradually pushed out the warmth lingering in the study. That quiet moment somehow pierced deep into his chest.
He clenched his fists at the chill running down his spine. A sharp alarm rose within him at the feast of sensations she offered him.
‘This moment is not eternal.’
He would soon return to where he belonged, and he would never again spare a glance for the beauty of a sunset.
Therefore, this unfamiliar heat circulating through his blood could be nothing more than a momentary delusion.
Watching the light fade beyond the blackened forest, he closed his eyes.
A faint noise penetrated his muddled mind. Slowly lifting eyelids that felt glued shut, Varkas touched his forehead while staring up at the ceiling shrouded in dark gray.
His eyes narrowed when he noticed his hand was wrapped in bandages.
‘How did it come to this?’
As he traced through his blurred memories, a voice reached him from nearby.
“Y-Your Grace! You’re awake.”
He blinked slowly, struggling to focus. It took a few moments to recognize the face. The gaunt head butler nearly dropped the damp towel he was holding and bowed beside the bed.
“How do you feel? Is there any pain…”
The voice rang dully in his ears. He pressed firmly against his temples before pushing himself up.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“You’ve been unconscious for nearly two days. According to the healer, your body was on the verge of…”
The man, propping a pillow behind Varkas’s back, suddenly trailed off. Varkas lifted his blurred gaze to the man's face. Biting his trembling lips, the butler finally managed a cracked voice.
“T-this is no time to talk. Please wait a moment. I will bring the High Priest. You were out for so long—you will need recovery magic.”
The man hurried out of the room without waiting for a reply. Varkas listened vacantly to the bustling footsteps, then turned his head toward the window. A pale sun casting a gray halo was sinking beyond the black fields.
After he had stared at the scene for some time with hollow eyes, a man in flowing priestly vestments burst in, accompanied by more hurried steps.
While the priest examined him, Varkas leaned against the headboard, surveying those who filled the room with eyes heavy with exhaustion. Judging by their grim faces, as though attending a funeral, his condition must have been severe indeed.
How pathetic. He wondered vaguely how many times he had lost consciousness and collapsed like this. At the thought, the moments just before he blacked out resurfaced, drawing his brows together.
Seeing this, the priest spoke gravely.
“You must do nothing for the time being and rest. Even if it requires draughts, you must force yourself to sleep.”
“…Did you not say I have already slept two days straight?”
“It is not enough,” the man replied sternly.
“Your Grace’s body is currently no different from that of a prisoner tortured without food or sleep for weeks on end. How could you let yourself reach this point…”
The priest, pinching the bridge of his nose, rose from the bedside. He then spoke sharply to the servants, who hung their heads like criminals.
“I will prepare a prescription, so see that he takes it without fail. And for now, watch him closely to ensure he does not attend to state affairs.”
“We will keep that in mind.”
A moment later, the priest left the room with his medicine case. Varkas immediately dismissed the servants, staggered out of bed, and looked around the chamber.
Though it was his own bedchamber, it felt foreign. Come to think of it, he could not remember the last time he had slept here. Narrowing his eyes, he spotted a tapestry hanging on one wall and walked over to it.
Forests and plains, woven with threads of various shades, covered half the large cloth. He stared motionless at the unfinished scene for a long time, then went over to the chest where his personal belongings were kept.
With bandaged hands, he fumbled the lid open, revealing neatly organized travel gear. He rummaged through it haphazardly until his fingers found an embroidered leather waterskin.
He stood still, staring down at it, then trudged over to the fireplace. Dark stains showed clearly in the flickering firelight. Varkas, absentmindedly rubbing the stain with his thumb, suddenly let out a hollow laugh and sank into a chair.
He did not even know why he was laughing. Pressing his forehead against the blood-soaked embroidery, his shoulders trembling violently, he heard a knock at the door.
He did not answer. The visitor, however, had no intention of retreating. After another clear knock, a cautious voice called out.
“Your Grace, forgive me for disturbing your rest. Her Imperial Highness the Princess is requesting an audience…”
“Send her back.”
“But…”
“It will only take a moment.”
A delicate voice rose behind the butler’s troubled tone.
He closed his eyes in weariness. When no reply came, the intruder pressed on persistently.
“I won’t take much of your time. Please, Varkas…”
She seemed prepared to wait out there until he relented. Finally, he parted his tight lips.
“Enter.”
Soon after, the door opened, followed by light footsteps.
Leaning back in his chair, he moved only his eyes toward her. Ayla crossed the room with her usual composed, graceful stride and offered a gentle smile.
“How are you feeling? I heard you were unwell…”
“Did you not say you would not take much of my time?”
He cut her off coldly.
“State your business.”
Her face drained of color. Clutching her skirt with folded hands, she spoke with a hardened expression.
“Very well. Then I shall speak only of business.”
She walked to the window, gazing out over the grounds as darkness began to fall.
“Using Gareth’s blunder as an excuse, the factions aligned with the Empress have begun to move all at once. A motion to strip his command over the Roem Knights has already been brought before the council, and efforts to sway the conservative nobles have been detected. Public sentiment is at its worst.”
Listing her brother’s failures in a calm voice, she turned back to him with a bitter look.
“To resolve this, I need your help, Lord Shearkan.”
He gave no answer, merely tracing the dense stitches with his fingertips. Uneasy at the silence, the Princess spoke more hurriedly.
“I am speaking of a political alliance, not an actual marriage. If Gareth is cast out, the Grand Ducal House will also suffer a severe blow. If the influence of the radicals centered around the Taren family grows, the standing of House Shearkan, which heads the conservatives, will narrow as well. You cannot desire such an outcome either.”
Pausing for a breath, she fixed a grave look upon him.
“The offensive against House Shearkan has already begun. The Empress will shift the blame for Talia’s death onto the Grand Ducal House. To stop her, we must join hands once more.”
Varkas lifted his eyes from the leather pouch and met her gaze. Her shoulders flinched. Toward the woman recoiling as if confronted by something terrible, he spoke with utter detachment.
“Is that all you have to say?”
Resting his head against one hand in exhaustion, Varkas gestured toward the door with his chin.
“You may leave.”
Her face darkened with humiliation. Clenching her fists, she stepped closer to him.
“You broke our engagement unilaterally. Even after enduring such an insult, I… have never once blamed or resented you.”
Moisture welled in her eyes. Taking a desperate breath as if swallowing down her pride, she asked with trembling lips,
“Have you never once felt sorry toward me?”
A clear tear rolled down her cheek. Varkas watched her without a flicker of emotion, then spoke.
“No.”
Her refined features twisted miserably in an instant. Watching her crumble, he added calmly,
“I have never given you any thought at all.”
END