It must have been only a few months before her sixteenth birthday.
Anxious about coming of age so soon, she had been pestering him more than usual, badgering him to help her pick out dresses and accessories. It was a pathetic attempt to draw his attention.
Varkas, who normally would have ignored such demands, seemed worn down by her relentless nagging and dutifully offered his opinions.
Perhaps he had grown generous at the thought that he would finally be free of her in a few months. She hated him so much she could have killed him for it. Yet at the same time, she felt a desperate urge to do anything, if only it would keep him tethered to her.
Because the end, which had once felt impossibly distant, was fast approaching.
“How about this for the coming-of-age ceremony?”
Dressed in a flamboyant silk gown imported from the south, she leaned toward him ostentatiously.
As always, Varkas merely gave her an indifferent look. Her face burned under that calm stare.
He was on the cusp of twenty now, and his frame, having shed the last vestiges of boyhood, had broadened firmly, exuding a mature masculinity. Had it not been for those eyes, as cold as a dead man’s, he would have looked like an angel descended from the heavens.
Talia raised her voice deliberately to drown out the foolish fluttering of her heart.
“I asked what you think!”
“…You look like a child playing dress-up in an adult’s clothes.”
At last, his firmly set lips parted.
Her eyes flared. He added another remark as if the whole affair were an annoyance.
“It does not suit you at all.”
Her face flushed crimson as she glared at him. Still, having begged for his opinion in the first place, she had little ground to argue.
Glowering venomously, Talia stomped behind the dressing screen. There, she tore wildly through the mountain of discarded clothes. She was determined to make this stone of a man blush, no matter what.
After a long search, she pulled out a far more daring gown. The neckline plunged so low it bordered on scandalous. Talia hesitated for a breath, wondering if it went too far, but quickly steeled her resolve and slipped into it. Glancing into the mirror, she saw a breathtakingly beautiful girl gazing back.
She appraised her reflection from every angle, thoroughly satisfied. Her frame, once as gaunt as a winter birch, had begun to soften after her fourteenth year. Her flat chest had budded and swelled to the curve of young apples, and her slender hips had gradually rounded.
Talia was proud of the change. She felt a boundless thrill, believing she was drawing closer to Senevier’s flawless beauty. Once he recognized what she was becoming, Varkas would surely change his mind. Soon, she would be the most beautiful woman in the world.
Buoyed by hope, she slipped out from behind the screen.
“How about this?”
Varkas, who had been staring out the window with open boredom, turned his head. At last, something resembling an emotion flickered across his face. Yet it was hardly a welcoming one.
Frowning as he scanned her from head to toe, Varkas spoke with a trace of irritation.
“The first dress.”
Taking a slow breath, he added bluntly,
“Go with that one.”
His tone was flat, devoid of even a shred of the admiration or agitation she had longed for. Even so, Talia’s heart leapt simply because he remembered the very first outfit out of the dozens she had paraded before him.
A sly smile touched her lips.
“What’s this? You pretended not to care… but were you watching closely after all?”
He gave no reply. He merely looked as though he wanted this tedious display over and done with.
His dismissive manner stirred a brief flash of resentment, but Talia decided to be generous and let it pass. Even if turning him around immediately proved difficult, hadn’t she resolved to show him the woman she was becoming, little by little?
Talia hummed softly as she retrieved the first gown she had worn.
It was an exquisite velvet surcoat, densely embroidered with delicate elven needlework. This garment would never leave her wardrobe for the rest of her days—simply because it was the one that had caught Varkas’s eye.
She quickly changed back into it and twirled before him with a flourish.
“You meant this one, right?”
He watched her quietly. He seemed entirely unfazed that someone throwing tantrums only moments ago was now giddy as a drunkard. Perhaps, to him, there was little difference between her raging like a monster and giggling like a madwoman.
Still, Talia wanted to believe something between them had shifted.
And with good reason—his gaze no longer swept past her so quickly, lingering on her face for moments at a time. Nor was that all. The edge in his voice had grown noticeably softer.
Catching those subtle tremors, Talia felt a faint ember of hope stir in her chest.
Could it be that Varkas was reluctant to part with her, too? After all the time they had spent together, perhaps an attachment had formed, even if born only of habit. Talia clung pathetically to that fragile hope.
“If I dance in this dress, I’ll look like a fairy queen, won’t I?”
At her question, a crease formed between his brows.
Was he sick of her endless chattering? No. Perhaps he was merely considering how to answer. She chose to see it that way.
“Don’t just stand there like a statue. Come practice with me.”
Talia seized his arm and pulled before he could refuse. The man who once would not have yielded an inch allowed himself to be dragged along, as if resigned to it.
See? Talia felt a swell of triumph. Something really has changed.
She spun, tugging harder at the man who moved as stiffly as though he had no desire to play along. But her foot caught against a chest on the floor, and her balance gave out. Instinctively, she grabbed onto his arm.
Varkas let out a sharp breath and quickly wrapped an arm around her waist.
Yet the room was so littered with fabric that there was nowhere firm to step. The tangled heap of dresses snagged around his boots, and both of them came crashing down onto the carpet in a heap. Talia let slip a curse.
“I told you to tidy this room straightaway!”
Varkas, who had landed in this mess trying to break her fall, raised an eyebrow. He was an imperial knight, not a servant. He could hardly be ordered to handle domestic chores. Talia knew that full well, yet she vented her irritation anyway.
“If there is so much as a single bruise on me, you will never hear the end of it, you useless knight!”
Grumbling, she tried to push herself up, only for a sharp yank to sting her scalp. Talia glared at him in disbelief.
“Did you just pull my hair?”
A short sigh slipped from his lips.
“Your hair is caught on my cuff button.”
He eased forward the arm still hooked behind her back.
As another sharp twinge shot through her scalp, Talia let out a yelp and struck his chest.
“It hurts, you idiot!”
He froze, his gaze dropping to meet hers as tears welled in her eyes. Despite a prickle of shame, Talia refused to break her glare.
With another low sigh, Varkas slipped his hand behind her back again, gently working his fingers through the strands to untangle them from the cuff.
Talia sat trapped between his knees, her eyes darting away in sudden panic. Only now did the sheer indecency of their tangled limbs and closeness dawn on her.
The faint scent of soap and mint trailing off him made her heart hammer so violently she feared he might hear it right through her chest.
END