63
Once the uninvited guest departed, Talia urged the healer to fill the room with thick, hazy smoke.
Inhaling the acrid air that shimmered like a heat mirage, she felt her roiling senses begin to settle.
A deep relief washed over her.
A little longer, and the murky fog would overtake her mind completely.
Then she would not have to think about anything. She only wished to sleep like the dead.
Limp on the bed, she closed her eyes. Yet no matter how long she waited, a single thread of consciousness refused to snap, keeping her tethered to reality.
Desperate for sleep, she drew her face closer to the brazier and breathed the stinging smoke in deeper, but it only brought on a fit of coughing.
As the violent spasms racked her body, even the faint drowsiness clinging to her eyes scattered.
Swallowed by frustration, Talia looked out the window. Without her realizing, the sky had bruised into blood-red.
After staring for a long while at that dizzying sunset—the kind that sent a chill down the spine—Talia felt pulled by some unspoken impulse. She slid out of bed and stood, bracing her weight upon her own two legs.
Perhaps the medicine was working, for she felt no particular pain.
She took a few experimental steps.
Her left leg lagged behind, the foot dragging along the floor. Still, the sharp ache that usually flared when bending the joint remained dormant. It seemed she could walk well enough.
She slipped her bare, thin feet into slippers and pulled a hooded robe from the wardrobe.
Draping it loosely around herself, she walked out of the bedroom with an unsteady gait.
By this hour, Nanny would be lounging in her own quarters.
The healer would have finished and returned home, and the maids would likewise be resting in their rooms.
Just as she thought, she met no one as she navigated the long corridor and made her way down the stairs.
Crossing the grand hall, Talia slipped out of the Separate Palace through a side door used by the servants.
A cool breeze brushed lightly against her face.
Breathing in the cold air, rich with the smell of grass and flowers, Talia moved with slow, heavy steps.
She wandered aimlessly until she realized she was standing near the training grounds.
A faint question flickered in her numbed mind.
Why did I come here?
Scanning the empty yard bathed in dusk’s red light with vacant eyes, Talia sensed a presence and ducked instinctively behind some bushes.
A few knights were swinging their swords on the far side of the grounds, sparring among themselves.
She watched them blankly for a time before moving on.
After swaying forward for a long while without knowing where she was going, her clear sight began to warp and ripple. The herbs were finally taking hold.
Talia kept on at a crawling pace, dragging her deadened legs behind her.
Noticing her long shadow being swallowed by deeper gloom, she lifted her head. She had stepped inside a dimly lit building without realizing it.
Where is this?
As her brow furrowed in confusion, a door at the far end of the hallway caught her eye.
She stumbled toward it and gave a hesitant knock.
After a pause, a low, deep voice carried through the wood.
“What is it?”
Talia blinked slowly.
Only upon hearing that voice did she remember why she had come.
She managed a slurred response.
“I came because… there is something I must tell you.”
A cold silence followed.
Wondering if her voice had been too faint, Talia cleared her throat and opened her mouth once more.
Just then, heavy footsteps approached, and the door swung open.
Talia looked up.
Perhaps he had been resting after the day’s duties; Varkas was dressed only in dark cotton trousers and a loose linen shirt.
As she looked him over with glassy eyes, a cold voice fell over her head.
“Did you truly come all this way dressed like that?”
Talia looked down at herself.
Through the gaps in her robe, she could see the summer nightgown Nanny had dressed her in.
What was wrong with it?
As she frowned, a heavy garment settled over her shoulders.
Talia looked up at him in bewilderment.
Having bundled her firmly into his own coat, Varkas glanced down the corridor where the darkness had gathered thick.
“Where is your escort?”
“Escort?”
His eyes sharpened.
Varkas took her lightly by the chin and tipped it upward. Leaning close, he stared intently into her eyes.
“How much sleep-grass did you burn?”
Talia strained her eyes to make out his face, which kept slipping out of focus.
Varkas wore an unfamiliar expression she had never seen on him before.
No. Perhaps it was her own mind that was strange.
The entire world looked warped; how could this man appear normal?
Pulling his hand away with a rough jerk, she parted her lips.
“I said I came because I have something to say.”
She saw his eyes narrow. Something displeased him.
After a chilling look, Varkas stood straight and glanced toward the darkening sky outside the window. Then he looked over his shoulder, surveying the inside of his room.
Seeing him lost in thought only made her more anxious.
Did I speak in the tongue of Elves or Dwarves? Why isn’t he answering?
“Can’t you hear me? I told you I have something to say—”
Suddenly, her balance gave out.
Talia grabbed desperately for the doorframe. Her legs had seized up from the long walk from the Separate Palace. The muscles in her left thigh twitched faintly.
She braced both hands against the wall, throwing all her weight onto her good leg to keep from crumpling to the floor.
In the next breath, she was lifted into the air.
Startled, she looked up, and a face etched with weariness filled her view.
Cradling her in his arms, he carried her into his spacious bedroom, lit by candles.
Talia cast her eyes downward, taking in the scene that was both familiar and foreign.
She had come here several times to see him, yet this was the first time she had ever crossed the threshold.
A hollow laugh slipped from her lips. It seemed she had only earned the right to enter his domain once her legs were broken like this.
“We will speak once the medicine clears.”
Varkas spoke with what sounded like a sigh, setting her down upon his bed.
Talia caught the hem of his shirt as he moved to draw away. Through the thin fabric, she could feel his firm, honed frame stiffen faintly.
Had he realized what she came to say?
Fighting her slipping senses, she clung to his shirt like a lifeline.
“No. I’ll say it now. Because once I’m sober, I won’t be able to…”
· · ·
“You said that if I agreed, you would take me as your wife, didn’t you?”
He offered no answer, only staring down into her eyes with fixed intensity.
Talia worked her tongue, which felt as loose as boiled noodles.
“Then do it. Throw Ayla Roem Guirta away and marry me instead.”
A heavy silence descended.
An unreadable light flickered across his face as he stood with his back to the dying sunset.
Was he taken aback?
He had likely proposed the condition assuming she would refuse, and she thought her answer might have caught him off balance.
Yet the voice that slipped from his lips was chillingly level.
“I shall do so.”
Talia traced his features through blurred vision. A hollow laugh tore from her at his blank, detached look, utterly devoid of emotion.
Because of this man, Ayla had been driven to swallow her pride and seek out the half-sister she despised.
And Talia herself was being devoured by the urge to ruin everything.
So why was he this calm?
Before that cold face, touched even with a hint of boredom, something inside her began to fracture.
END