The Forgotten Field
Varkas released Lucas’s arm and straightened up, his tone indifferent.
“You’ve improved.”
“Talk about hitting someone and then offering a sweet.”
Lucas grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. Varkas hauled his brother to his feet, then nodded toward the priest waiting by the edge of the ring.
“Tend to him.”
“Shouldn’t you get looked at too, Brother?”
Lucas eyed the corner of Varkas’s mouth.
Taking his Tunka from a squire and slinging it over one shoulder, Varkas wiped a smear of blood from his lip with his thumb. His reply was flat.
“A scratch like this hardly warrants healing magic. Don’t concern yourself.”
Pricked in his pride, Lucas scowled, clicked his tongue, and vaulted lightly over the rail. Brushing aside the priest who hurried forward to attend him, he strode swiftly into the throng of soldiers.
Watching his retreating back, Talia suddenly felt a gaze upon her. She turned her head instinctively and froze, caught beneath a pair of cool blue eyes staring up at her in silence.
Her heart dropped. That look cut straight through her, as though he knew precisely how anxiously she had been watching. Without realizing it, she took a hesitant step back; the moment she saw him step toward her, she turned on her heel.
“I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”
Catching Tiuran’s sleeve, she hurried down the stone steps that encircled the ring.
Only when she had put some distance between them did she steal a look back. She saw his back as he cleared the rail and headed toward the main training hall. It seemed her obvious retreat had killed whatever intention he had of coming after her.
Her expression clouded, pulled between relief and disappointment. Reading her face, Tiuran spoke carefully.
“I have a salve that works well on wounds. Shall I take it to His Grace?”
From her robe pocket she produced a small jar carved of bone, holding it out.
Talia stared down at it, then snapped her head away, her reply sharp.
“Go ahead, then. I’m returning to my room to rest.”
“…Then I shall tell him it came from Your Highness.”
“Don’t do anything unnecessary!”
Talia’s voice bristled with thorns.
She glared at Tiuran with undisguised displeasure.
“Breathe a single word about me to him, and I won’t forgive you.”
“…I apologize if I overstepped.”
Tiuran lowered her eyes and gave a respectful bow. A prick of guilt grazed Talia, but she pressed her lips tight and turned away coldly.
“Just give him the salve. I want some air alone before I head back.”
Without waiting for an answer, she walked toward the inner castle gate.
Past the arched entrance, a radiant garden stretched out, drenched in the fierce, glittering light of high summer. As she wandered through it, Khan, who had stayed tucked in her arms as still as a doll, began to squirm. Being carried had made him restless.
She set Khan down on the path.
“Do you want to walk on your own four feet now?”
Ears pricking at her voice, the wolf spun around and darted straight into a bed thick with marigolds.
Startled, Talia moved to scoop him back up, but Khan had already snapped off a cluster of marigolds by their stems and came trotting back to her.
Seeing him wag his tail with that bright yellow bunch clamped in his jaws, a sudden smile broke across Talia’s face.
“Is this for me?”
As if answering her, the wolf dropped the flowers at her feet. Talia picked them up, the stems slightly crushed where his teeth had held them.
Had he remembered her speaking of these blooms before? It may have been nothing more than chance, yet a wave of feeling rose in her chest, as if Khan understood her very heart.
“Thank you.”
She pressed a kiss to the wolf’s brow in gratitude, and his tail beat the air even faster. With a soft laugh, Talia gathered him up and rained kisses across his soft face.
She loved that she could be entirely honest with Khan. Why was it so impossibly hard to show that same openness to other people?
She glanced back toward the inner castle gate leading to the training grounds. A sudden pang pierced her as she remembered the quiet eyes that had looked up into hers.
Would the day ever come when she could bare her heart honestly to him as well?
Lost in futile longing, she gave a bitter laugh and turned away.
In the end, Talia did not attend the farewell banquet.
She lacked the courage to face Varkas, but as evening drew in, the pain in her leg flared so fiercely that she could not even drag herself from bed.
After tossing and turning deep into the night, she finally took the painkiller Marisen had prepared and sank into an oblivion like death.
When she came to her senses, dawn was already spilling through the window.
Staring blankly at the sky, Talia scrambled from the bed and hurried to the glass.
Dozens of mounted warriors, armed and readied for departure, stood ranked before the castle gates. Catching sight of Varkas at their head, she snatched her shawl with frantic fingers and threw it over her shoulders. Shutting Khan inside when he tried to pad after her, she limped down the dim corridor as fast as she could. Cutting through the second-floor passage connected to the Outer Castle, she climbed the tower, where a biting wind tore against her body.
Paying no mind to the gusts that whipped her hair into tangles, Talia stepped up to the battlements. Through the embrasure, she could see him clearly.
Forgetting to draw breath, she watched him give orders to his adjutant.
Standing in the pale light of dawn, Varkas was strikingly handsome. The blue hue of morning traced the clean line of his jaw, the spread of his shoulders, and the width of his back. Even in the heavy, utilitarian armor of the East, he looked singularly noble and composed. As she burned his figure into memory, he lifted his head, as though he felt her watching.
Talia’s instinct was to shrink out of sight, but she checked herself and held his gaze.
A strange light flickered in Varkas’s eyes, something she could not decipher. Before she could make sense of it, he looked away and swung up into the saddle.
Soon, the resonant wail of a horn announced the Grand Duke’s departure, and the castle gates swung wide.
Talia stood numb, watching him ride out into the blue morning.
Take care of yourself, Varkas.
You must come back safely.
The words she could never bring herself to speak drifted uselessly on the wind. She remained by the stone for a long time, unable to turn away, watching his retreating form until the distance swallowed it.
For days after he was gone, she could not shake the dull ache in her chest. Even Khan’s presence could not fill the void left behind.
Her mind kept returning to that upturned gaze, and then to his back as he rode away. A bitter wave of self-loathing washed over her for having lost her nerve, for failing to say a single word—yet beneath it lurked resentment that he had never approached her, either.
It made no sense to resent him. Had she not been the one to push him away? After spitting cruelties at a man who had nursed her so devotedly, after driving him off, with what right could she expect him to close the distance? Their bond was likely frayed beyond all mending.
“Your Highness, why not take a turn outside the castle today?”
Tiuran spoke up out of nowhere as Talia sat on the bed, staring blankly as she turned the pages of a book.
Startled, Talia gave a listless shrug.
“Have you forgotten? I’m not allowed to take a single step without Varkas’s permission.”
“Surely the Grand Duke would permit you to visit the castle town with an escort. Your Highness is the lady of the East, not a captive.”
Tiuran’s voice held an unusual firmness.
Talia’s brow furrowed, and her eyes hardened as she looked at her.
“I don’t believe Varkas treats me like a captive. He is only trying to keep me safe.”
“…Forgive me if I gave offense.”
Tiuran bowed her head at once. Watching her with a sullen look, Talia closed the volume and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress.
“What brought this on, all of a sudden?”
“The autumn festival is drawing near. The streets are already lively with preparations, and I thought it might help lift Your Highness’s spirits…”
END
