69
Stepping onto the mounting block, Varkas looked down at her, his eyes narrowing as they slowly traced her form.
A faint crease formed between his straight brows.
Before she could grasp why, he strode into the carriage, picked up the cloak that had fallen to the floor, and draped it around her shoulders. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached down to lift her.
Startled, Talia shoved hard against his shoulders.
“I can walk on my own!”
Though the pain was flaring up in her knees again now that the medicine had worn off, she thought she could manage a few steps.
She threw off the heavy cloak and stepped down, taking care not to expose her scars.
A firm hand caught her shoulder.
“You mean to go out dressed like that?”
His gaze pinned her like a wedge.
Shrinking back, Talia looked down at herself.
The laces of her dress had come undone while she slept, leaving her thin shoulders and upper arms bare. Worse, the neckline had slipped low, exposing the swell of her chest.
Flushing crimson, Talia hurriedly hauled up the bodice.
Varkas watched her clumsy scramble in silence before exhaling a small sigh and draping his coat around her shoulders once more. This time, Talia did not fight him.
He fastened the knot tightly beneath her chin, lifted her with ease, and stepped outside.
She felt like a doll bundled up in cloth.
No. It wasn’t anything so tender. It was merely pity for a cripple who couldn’t even walk on her own.
Talia deliberately drove the thought into her own heart like a blade.
Better to gouge it hollow herself than to let him take whatever was left. It would hurt less in the end.
“My Lord, what should we do about the messenger from the East?”
Just as he reached the entrance, one of the men standing in line spoke up.
Talia peered out through a slit in the cloak. A man built like a bear, with sharp, hawkish eyes, was sneaking glances back at her.
“Must I give orders for every small matter?”
Varkas snapped coldly, pulling the cloak up to cover her head entirely.
“Find him quarters and assign someone to see to him. I will meet him at first light.”
Without waiting for a reply, he carried her into the building.
As he crossed the vast hall and mounted the stairs, Talia tried to piece together the fragments she had gathered.
It seemed many feared this union would fracture the ties between the Crown Prince and House Shearkan.
While Senevier had been orchestrating the wedding, Varkas must have been busy cleaning up the fallout.
He would have had to soothe Gareth, who was surely seething with betrayal, while assuring Marquis Oristein and the conservative faction that he had not turned his back on them.
Yet none of them seemed able to stomach the sudden change of bride.
Small wonder. Even she still half-believed the whole thing was some cruel farce.
“I will have someone attend to you,” Varkas said, setting her down upon a long velvet sofa once they were inside the room.
Talia looked around the warm bedroom before her eyes found him again.
Varkas was unfastening his formal coat with one hand while reaching for the bellpull beside the bed with the other. The sight made her stomach turn over.
She spoke in a sharp, brittle voice.
“I don’t need an attendant!”
Varkas looked back over his shoulder, a crease forming on his forehead.
Talia looked away, evading his eyes.
“Just bring Nanny.”
“It is late. I will have her fetched at dawn, so bear with it for tonight.”
She glared at him at once.
“I won’t let anyone touch me except Nanny. You dragged me out here on a whim, so take responsibility and bring her now!”
A cold light settled into his blue eyes.
Talia clenched her fists until the knuckles ached.
He was a man who seemed to set a strict limit on his daily patience. She half-expected him to turn and walk out in disgust.
Yet he seemed to have some left for the day, for he crossed to the door and called for a servant.
“Send someone to the Separate Palace at once to bring the Quarter Dwarf here.”
“Pardon? Right now, My Lord?”
“Yes. Dispatch the fastest rider.”
Varkas closed the door in the bewildered servant’s face and turned a sharp look on her, as if asking if she was satisfied now.
Talia dropped her eyes.
Letting out a long breath, Varkas took a robe from a shelf and offered it to her.
“Put this on, at least, until someone comes to attend to you.”
Talia took it immediately and threw it over her dress, then managed in a halting voice:
“Now… leave. I want to be alone until Nanny arrives.”
“This is my chamber as well.”
Her head spun for an instant, a cold sweat breaking over her palms.
She pulled the robe tightly closed against her chest and wet her dry lips.
“Th-then I will go. Give me another room.”
“Your Highness.”
He laid a hand upon her shoulder.
When she managed to lift her face, she found his blue eyes darkened with shadow.
“You are the one who agreed to this marriage.”
She stared up at his blank face, her eyes wide.
So he meant to stay here? With her?
Her chest constricted with dread.
She looked down at her aching knees.
She remembered the way Senevier had looked upon her scars. Her mother’s dark eyes, staring as if at something vile, overlapped with Varkas’s silver-blue ones.
Before she could rein them in, words tumbled recklessly from her lips.
“Then… then let’s just call it off. How can I share a room with you? I only married you to… to torment you. And you only married me because the Emperor commanded it. You don’t want to be near me either. So let’s just pretend none of this happened, and—”
“Talia.”
He dropped to his knees before her, framing her cheeks with his hands as he drew near.
Talia froze, caught in his stare.
In those silver-flecked eyes, she saw her own pale reflection, damp with cold sweat. A low voice, rough at the edges, slipped from his mouth.
“I will do nothing to you.”
· · ·
“It is only for tonight. I may have silenced the priest, but I cannot stop every servant’s tongue. For this first night, at least, we must share the room.”
His steady voice slowed the frantic hammering in her chest.
Talia bit her lip and gave a small nod.
Seeing her settle, Varkas rose slowly to his feet.
Talia tracked his movements, the wary edge lingering in her eyes.
He shed his damp coat and sat down by the window in his thin shirt. His broad frame, normally held with rigid discipline, sank back in exhaustion.
A long, heavy sigh broke the silence of the room.
A moment later, servants arrived bearing a tray of food and wine.
Talia forced down a single piece of bread with mechanical motions. Then, in place of her sleep-inducing herbs, she downed a glass of strong liquor.
As the burning spirit spread through her, the tightness in her muscles eased and the pain dulled.
She poured another measure into the golden cup.
After she had emptied several more, Varkas, who had been watching in silence, reached out and took the bottle away.
“That is enough.”
Talia pushed herself up from the chair to snatch it back.
Her legs, already frail, gave out completely under the weight of the drink.
She crumpled without resistance. Varkas caught her limp body and laid her flat upon the bed.
Even half-conscious and clouded with wine, Talia’s hands went straight to her hem, checking her skirt first.
Varkas looked down at her with darkened eyes, then pulled the duvet up to her shoulders. He walked to the window and drew the heavy drapes.
The sunset, bleeding from burnt orange into violet, washed over his back.
Watching his broad, solid shoulders bathed in that fiery bronze light, Talia blinked slowly.
Even steeped in that fire, he looked so cold it made her shiver.
END