It was the Head Maid’s voice.
Talia turned a wary look toward the door.
“What is it?”
“A courier has arrived from the northern frontier. His Grace the Grand Duke sent several items, and I thought Your Highness ought to inspect them in person, so I brought them along.”
Talia froze at the unexpected words. Beside her, she could feel the two healers casting sidelong glances her way.
Smoothing the tremor from her face, she answered evenly.
“Very well. Enter.”
Moments later, half a dozen servants filed into the bedchamber, bearing dark, polished lacquer chests. Talia watched them with guarded eyes.
“What is all this?”
“Restorative tonics to rebuild your strength, and rare herbs found only in the North. His Grace appears to have sent them in hopes of aiding Your Highness’s recovery.”
The Head Maid explained in her usual brisk, professional tone, holding out a parchment sealed with the ducal crest.
“Would you care to verify the contents against the manifest?”
As soon as she finished speaking, the servants lifted the chest lids one after another. Resting neatly upon velvet cushions were dark-red strips of dried meat resembling animal organs, an assortment of knotted plant roots, and strangely shaped fruits.
Glancing over them with little interest, Talia asked with an edge of impatience,
“Is there no other word?”
“What word do you seek?”
Seeing that Talia cared nothing for the inventory, the Head Maid folded the sheet back in half and asked bluntly.
Talia glared at her, irritated.
“Word of the campaign in the North, of course!”
“His Grace’s messenger delivered the cargo and departed at once for the council chamber. Consequently, no details regarding political or military affairs reached us.”
The Head Maid’s reply was flat and unperturbed.
Talia eyed her with suspicion, wondering if the woman was withholding the truth, but soon her voice dropped into sullen disappointment.
“…Was there truly nothing meant for me?”
The Head Maid met her question with an unreadable, lingering stare.
Heat flared in Talia’s cheeks. The woman was surely recalling every bitter tantrum Talia had thrown at her husband. Those austere eyes seemed to pass judgment on the sheer shamelessness of expecting tender regard from him now.
Talia snapped her head away to sever the stare, her retort sharp.
“If that is all, so be it. You may leave.”
“…The Grand Duke did mention that he intends to visit the castle before the season turns.”
After an agonizingly long silence, the Head Maid finally spoke.
Talia’s eyes widened at the sudden news. Glancing down at the pup cradled in Talia’s lap, the Head Maid added in a cautious murmur,
“I am told he expressed concern upon learning Your Highness had taken in a direwolf whelp.”
Talia reflexively tightened her hold around Khan, but caught herself when the pup squirmed beneath the pressure, quickly loosening her grip.
Rather than wriggling free, the wolf sat upright and pressed his soft, furry snout against her chin. The spontaneous comfort coaxed a gentle curve to her lips.
The Head Maid observed the scene with a thoughtful gaze, then turned away with a faint sigh.
“I shall have these ingredients secured in the strongroom. Pray inform me whenever you have need of them.”
“Is that truly necessary? If they are entrusted to me, I can prepare Her Highness’s drafts without delay.”
Marisen, who had listened in silence until now, suddenly chimed in. The Head Maid looked at her appraisingly for a second, then glanced back toward Talia to defer the decision.
Talia gave a careless nod.
“Do so.”
“Understood. Then I shall arrange the herbs in the dispensary cabinets.”
With that, the servants filed out of the chamber. Only when the door shut did the tension leave Talia’s shoulders.
Noticing her exhaustion from the corner of her eye, Marisen began packing her instruments and rose to her feet.
“We shall take our leave as well. Pray summon us whenever you require care.”
Talia offered only a weary nod, slumping back against the chair. Soon the soft scrape of footsteps receded, punctuated by the dull thud of the latch.
Staring absently toward the window, Talia felt the weight of a gaze and looked down. Clear blue eyes looked up at her without wavering—like a sunflower turned toward the sun—and the churn of anxiety in her chest slowly ebbed away.
She lightly stroked Khan’s pointed gray ears.
“Do not worry. Varkas will soften once he sees you, too. After all…”
When she gently scratched beneath his chin, the wolf leaned back into her touch. Talia looked down at him with an affectionate gaze, whispering as if sharing a secret,
“You and Varkas have the exact same eyes. There are beautiful flecks of silver in his, just like yours.”
The pup blinked his wide eyes and tilted his head.
At times, Talia was gripped by the illusion that he understood every single word she spoke.
Khan seemed to share every sorrow and joy she felt. It was an entirely novel experience for her: a living thing upon which she could bestow wholehearted affection without fear, calculation, or suspicion. A companion who returned just as much love—if not more—than she gave. Having never possessed such unconditional devotion in her life, Talia fell ever deeper into her attachment to him.
“Shall I show you?”
Scooping Khan into her arms, Talia stood up. She carried him over to the bedside and opened the cabinet drawer. Tucked into the farthest corner lay a small jewelry box.
She set it carefully upon the quilt, and Khan’s ears twitched with interest.
Setting the pup beside it, Talia carefully pried the box open. Inside lay withered, crumbly yellow petals. Parting them, she lifted out a thumb-sized moonstone and held it proudly before Khan’s nose.
“I received this not long after coming to the East. What do you think? Doesn’t it look just like your eyes? Your father’s eyes are this exact shade, too.”
The wolf stared fixedly at the pale gem, frozen in place.
Talia tilted her head at his stillness, then drew out a ruby brooch and a handkerchief patterned with eastern embroidery to display them.
“Your father bought this for me. Isn’t it lovely? These are all my treasures.”
The wolf remained motionless for a long moment, then slowly lifted his eyes to her face.
The smile drained from Talia’s lips. His expression looked almost agonized.
Startled, Talia sat upright and drew him back into her lap.
“What is the matter?”
The pup trembled and burrowed deep into her skirts. Alarmed that he might be ill, Talia soon realized he was merely agitated, and she gently patted his small back to soothe him.
How much time had slipped away? A heavy, sweet languor crept through her limbs. The ointment the healer applied was finally taking effect.
The tightness in her leg muscles dissolved into warmth, followed by a light, floating sensation, as though she were suspended in empty air. At the bliss of feeling her body melt away, Talia’s eyelids drifted shut.
Without her realizing it, a soft hum slipped between her parted lips. It was a tune her mother used to hum whenever she was pleased.
Drunk on a strange, fleeting happiness, Talia let out a breathy laugh, but when her vision suddenly blurred, she sank back against the pillows.
Before she knew it, she had slipped into sleep.
By the time the sun had begun to sink beneath the horizon, Talia drifted back to consciousness, staring toward the window with heavy, clouded eyes.
Past the glass, the sky blazed with a fiery sunset. As she watched it in a stupor, a dry, choking thirst seized her throat. She fumbled blindly across the side table, reaching for the water pitcher.
At that instant, a searing wave of heat slammed into her, as though she had been hurled into an open furnace.
A choked cry tore from Talia’s throat. It felt as if her bones were dry kindling fed to a bonfire. A blinding glare burned through her vision, and her skin cracked and blistered under phantom flames.
Writhing in sheer agony, Talia reached out blindly and yanked the bell pull hanging beside the bed.
END
