The Forgotten Field
Tiuran, perhaps feeling similarly, hesitated for a long while before giving a reluctant nod.
“I understand. Please wait a moment.”
Shortly after, a middle-aged woman draped loosely in a dark robe entered the room with measured steps.
“I heard you summoned me.”
“The pain is too much.”
Talia gasped out the words.
“I need a strong painkiller.”
Without a word of protest, the woman drew a small vial from her breast and handed it over. Talia snatched it with trembling hands and downed it in a single gulp, not even checking what was inside.
Watching her with an impassive face, the woman explained in an even tone.
“I altered the formulation to prevent the side effects you had before. I added a generous measure of antitoxic herbs and reduced the mandrake, so you should not suffer those symptoms again.”
“Then won’t it be weaker as well?”
The healer nodded with a soft sigh.
“It will not be as potent, but it will still be enough to soothe the worst of the pain. I will also apply an analgesic ointment to your leg.”
The moment she heard this, Talia pulled her skirt—soaked through with cold sweat—up to her knees. Bending low, the healer spread a reddish ointment across the pale, raised scars.
With his front paws resting on the edge of the bed, Khan watched with mournful eyes. Though this healer’s prescription might ease her immediate torment, it would inevitably take a toll on her body.
He remembered the line written in her diary.
‘I am hoping this medicine will stop my life, too, one day.’
If the medicine she meant was this healer’s painkiller, he had to stop her from taking it, no matter the cost.
Yet what could he possibly do in this body? For now, all he could do was bare his teeth and growl. Even that was unlikely to be taken as a true threat.
Feeling a familiar helplessness weigh heavily on his chest, he licked her hand. At that, Talia lifted her face from where it had been buried in the pillow and smiled faintly.
“I’m sorry, Khan. It must be stifling, being trapped in this room.”
She turned toward her maids.
“Take Khan out for some fresh air.”
Refusing her command, he bounded onto the bed and pressed himself against her temple. The corners of Talia’s mouth softened into a faint smile.
Seeing her show her feelings so openly only tightened the knot in his chest. Back when he was human, she had never once looked at him with such tenderness.
“It seems Khan refuses to leave my side. I suppose I will have to take him out myself.”
“Will you be all right? Your leg…”
“I’m fine. It feels far better than before.”
Cutting the maid off firmly, Talia drew a light summer mantle over her thin indoor gown.
Watching her with concern, Tiuran spoke up cautiously.
“May I accompany you? Should your condition worsen, I ought to be there to treat you…”
“Are you questioning my skill?”
Marisen glared at Tiuran, clearly taking offense.
The younger healer dropped her gaze at once.
“I had no intention of insulting you, Marisen-nim. I was only concerned about unforeseen complications…”
“Is that not precisely what you meant? You doubt my prescription—”
“Enough.”
Talia, who had been adjusting her dress with the maid’s help, snapped in irritation. Turning a severe gaze upon Marisen, she added,
“Tiuran is no longer your assistant. Stop picking a fight with her at every turn.”
“…I apologize for displeasing you.”
Marisen bowed her head, looking reluctant.
After studying her with sharp eyes, Talia scooped Khan into her arms and gestured to Tiuran.
“You, follow me. As you said, there might be side effects.”
Marisen’s face twitched faintly. Ignoring her entirely, Talia turned on her heel and walked out of the bedchamber.
Khan watched her complexion with anxious eyes. Fortunately, the painkiller seemed to be working; by the time they left the Great Hall, a hint of color had returned to her pale face.
“The weather is fine today, isn’t it?”
Walking carefully along the sunlit promenade, Talia murmured into his ear.
He looked up at her lips, curved in a faint line. Perhaps she had felt just as cooped up in that room, for her features had softened considerably in the bright light.
“Do you want to walk by yourself?”
Setting him on the ground, Talia began to stroll slowly along the flower beds. He trotted diligently behind her.
They had been walking through the garden for some time when, as they drew near the rear grounds, Tiuran spoke up.
“Your Grace, would you care to stop by the kitchen for a moment?”
Talia looked back at her, puzzled.
“Why the kitchen?”
“Well… I thought Khan might be hungry. We could fetch some raw meat there… and since we are already nearby, I thought it might be convenient…”
Her words, stumbling uncharacteristically, slowly trailed off.
Talia regarded the healer with suspicion, but soon redirected her steps toward the kitchen behind the Main Palace. The torment she had endured all morning had made her forget she had not yet fed him.
“Prepare something for this little one at once.”
Entering the rear entrance of the building, Talia gave the order in an imperious tone.
The cooks, busy preparing lunch by the hearth, hastily bowed in greeting and immediately brought out a fresh cut of meat to slice with care.
Meanwhile, Talia sat on a chair at the far corner of the kitchen, watching the servants bustle about. Before long, a bowl of finely chopped raw meat was placed before him.
“Go on, eat.”
He lowered his muzzle to the bowl, sniffed at it for a moment, and took a mouthful. The raw, bloody flavor was far from pleasant, but to grow quickly, he had to take whatever sustenance he could find.
He emptied the dish in no time and licked his bloodied jaws. Pleased by the sight, Talia ordered the servants to bring more.
Then the healer, who had remained silent, offered a tentative suggestion.
“Your Grace, would you care for something to eat as well? You missed breakfast, after all.”
Talia narrowed her eyes at her. Only then did she seem to realize the healer had used Khan’s meal as a pretext to bring her to the kitchen to eat.
Tiuran added in a soft voice, as though coaxing a skittish animal.
“If you permit, Your Grace, I will prepare a soup to help restore your strength.”
“You mean to make it yourself?”
“Preparing meals suitable for a patient is also part of a healer’s work. It may not match the skill of a royal chef, but it will be better for your constitution.”
Staring intently at the healer with a mixture of curiosity and doubt, Talia gave a slow nod.
With an inward breath of relief, Tiuran set to work gathering various ingredients from around the kitchen. Washing her hands thoroughly in a basin of cold water, she began to trim onions, potatoes, and a generous portion of chicken.
Once everything was prepared, she lifted a small brazier from the corner, set it on the table, and brought over a pan greased with butter to sauté the ingredients until they sizzled.
A spark of curiosity flickered in Talia’s eyes as she watched. Having never observed how food was prepared up close, she seemed to find it novel.
“Are there any ingredients you particularly prefer?”
“None. I dislike most things.”
A wry smile touched the healer’s lips at the blunt reply. She set a pot on the brazier, filled it with water, and simmered chicken bones into a broth before adding the sautéed ingredients. Soon, the rich aroma of soup drifted through the kitchen.
Khan lifted his head to watch Talia closely. A faint trace of anticipation lingered in her clear blue eyes. Watching the food being made had evidently whetted her appetite.
Tiuran seasoned the pot with salt, ladled a generous helping into a deep bowl, and set it before her.
“It is quite hot, so please be careful.”
As if she had been waiting, Talia took up her spoon, scooped up the steaming broth, and tasted it.
Finding it suited her palate, her hand moved with increasing speed to bring the spoon to her lips.
“Would you like some more?”
Seeing the empty bowl, the healer asked, drawing the pot closer.
Talia looked up at her with an unreadable expression, then gave a slight nod.
“Just a little.”
Smiling faintly, Tiuran ladled another helping into her bowl.
From that day on, the healer began to prepare small dishes for her whenever they went out for walks.
Little by little, Talia began to taste fish and various meats she had previously refused to touch. She would even ask for bread or cookies to be baked, and at times she joined in the cooking herself.
Watching her eat every crumb of the cookies—hard as stones from overbaking—he was seized by a strange, dull ache.
He had known, in some vague way, that she struggled to eat. Yet he had never once tried to understand why.
A bitter disgust with himself settled over him as he remembered how he had simply dismissed it as petulance, doing nothing but scolding or forcing her.
END
