The Forgotten Field
“Khan, do you want to try some too?”
Perhaps catching his somber gaze, Talia, who had been nibbling on a biscuit, held out the remaining half.
After a brief hesitation, he took a careful bite. A soft laugh slipped from her, as though the ticklish scrape of his teeth against her fingertips amused her.
“Is it good? Do you want more?”
She set the entire bowl down before him.
He pushed the edge away with his snout. He wanted her to eat, even if only a little more. Talia, however, had already drifted over to Tiuran, watching her prepare the vegetables with open curiosity.
Watching them with a heavy, aching heart, he eventually finished every last crumb left in the bowl.
Meanwhile, Tiuran finished cooking and laid a slice of pie filled with garden vegetables and rabbit meat onto Talia’s plate.
Talia ate the simple, unspiced food with real appetite, her cheeks puffing out as she chewed. Tiuran watched her with a gentle gaze, picked up the knife, and asked,
“Shall I cut another slice?”
“No. Eat any more, and my stomach will split.”
“Then I will fetch some fruit to cleanse your palate. Fresh grapes arrived this morning.”
“I told you no. Do you take me for a pig…?”
Talia, who had started to snap in irritation, trailed off. She studied Tiuran’s face for a quiet moment, thoughtful, before offering a blunt nod.
“Fine. Bring a plate.”
Tiuran went straight to the cook to ask for the fruit.
A kitchen servant fetched two ripe clusters of grapes from a small bin in the corner. Tiuran washed them thoroughly, arranged them on a plate, and offered it politely.
“Here you are, Your Grace.”
Talia popped one straight into her mouth. The sweet fragrance of the ripe fruit drifted even to where he stood. Yet Talia’s face twisted at once, as if she had bitten into something vile.
“These are awful.”
She pushed the plate away and added coldly,
“I won’t eat them. You have them.”
Tiuran looked down at the grapes, troubled, and picked the dish back up.
“They must still be tart. I will find something else.”
“Forget it.”
Catching the hem of Tiuran’s sleeve as the healer turned away, Talia gestured toward the seat across from her, frowning in annoyance.
“I said I am done eating. Stop fussing and sit.”
“I was only going to take them back to the pantry—”
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
Her voice turned sharp. Sighting softly, as if she had no choice, Tiuran set the plate back down, pulled out the chair, and sat.
Talia slid the dish across the wood toward her.
“Finish them.”
“How could I partake of something so dear…”
“Dear? Nonsense. They are so sour no one else would touch them anyway.”
The healer stared at the grapes, caught in visible hesitation.
Green grapes sweet enough to eat fresh were an exceptionally rare luxury. Knowing that full well, the woman could not easily bring herself to reach for the plate.
At that, Talia’s eyes flared.
“Are you defying my command?”
“…No, Your Grace. I will eat them with gratitude.”
“No need for gratitude. I am only making you finish the scraps.”
Giving a quiet scoff, Talia looked away as if inspecting the room and stroked his head. Yet he could see the faint color rising to her cheeks. When she stole a sideways glance at the healer eating the grapes, the trace of a smile touched her lips.
A sudden thought struck him. Had they spent moments like this together in the past he had left behind? If they had, how had she felt when news of this healer’s death reached her?
The familiar pang twisted in his chest, and his eyes shifted back to Tiuran.
If he kept this woman alive, Talia would have no cause to mourn. He swore to himself once more: he would change what was to come, at any cost.
When night settled, the pain that had briefly dulled began to stir once more.
Tossing and turning beneath the covers, Talia opened her eyes at a sharp, stinging prickle against her flesh. Because she had set candles burning throughout the room before lying down, the terror of being swallowed by the dark did not seize her.
Yet the trembling light laid bare a horrifying sight. She choked on a breath. Thousands of crimson butterflies covered her bed like a living shroud.
As they began settling upon her bare legs, Talia let out a ragged cry and shrank back toward the headboard. Far from scattering, the swarm surged toward her with greater fury.
The sickening brush of countless powdery wings against her skin broke a cold sweat across her whole body. Dragging in wild, broken breaths, she pulled the quilt over herself in frantic haste.
Right then, a massive crimson butterfly landed upon the top of her foot and drove a long needle deep into the flesh. With a raw shriek, she tore it away.
She was too late. The venom it had plunged into her was already turning the skin pitch-black.
Seized by suffocating hysteria, Talia began clawing frantically at her flesh with her nails. Only one thought screamed through her head: she had to stop the poison from spreading, whatever it took.
Gouging at the rapidly decaying meat as if trying to rip it free, she reached blindly toward the nightstand. Her fingertips struck the small butter knife.
She seized the hilt and brought it down toward her own ankle just as something hurled itself onto her leg.
Though she checked her hand in terror, the blade had already sunk into Khan’s back.
“Khan!”
Ripped back to her senses, Talia threw the knife away and dragged Khan into her arms. The wound was not deep, thank God, but dark blood was welling from the torn flesh.
Staring down at him in horror, she threw herself from the bed. She had just lunged toward the hall to scream for help when she slammed into Tiuran opening the door to enter.
Without a second thought, Talia screamed at the top of her lungs,
“Help him! I stabbed Khan!”
Her eyes wide, the healer caught Talia by the shoulders and guided her back toward the bed.
“Calm yourself, Your Grace. Let me see him.”
With shaking hands, Talia passed Khan across. Laying the squirming creature down onto the mattress, the healer examined the cut thoroughly and let out a long breath of relief.
“Do not worry. A scrape like this will mend in no time.”
Despite the calm assurance, Talia could not steady herself; her entire frame shuddered violently.
“This is the second time I’ve hurt him. I cannot keep him near me. I can’t.”
Heavy tears broke and spilled down her cheeks. Seeing them, the young wolf wriggled from the healer’s hands and burrowed into Talia’s embrace.
Guilt hollowed her eyes as she looked down at the pup frantically lapping the salt from her face.
Then, words she had kept buried deep within tore free before she could halt them.
“There is something broken in me. When it rains, voices talk to me, and every night brings these monstrous visions. It was madness for someone like me to try and raise anything. I can barely hold myself together, so how could I ever…”
“Your Grace, please, you must not say that.”
Tiuran clasped Talia’s pale hand tightly between both of hers, her voice earnest.
“You take wonderful care of Khan. And he loves you and follows you more than anyone in the world.”
“Look at me! I cannot even walk right. Because of me, Khan spends his life trapped in this wretched room! How is that taking care of him?!”
Talia cried out, her voice splintering into a sob. The cold command never to show weakness flickered in her mind, but she could no longer hold the gates shut.
“I destroy everything that comes near me. Someday, I know I will kill him too. That is why, as soon as he is large enough to survive, I will send him far away. I will make sure he leaves me and runs free.”
“Your Grace.”
At that quiet, steady murmur, Talia, weeping like a broken child, flinched and lifted her head.
Tiuran held her hand fast, looking down at her with gentle warmth.
“Perhaps… Khan was born into this world only to find you.”
END
