Ch#72
The maids walked quietly down the hallway.
Thalia followed behind them, stepping as cautiously as possible.
By the time she reached the stairs at a pace slower than a tortoise, her spine was drenched in sweat.
She looked down the staircase with bleak eyes.
It was then that she spotted Varkas striding into the mansion.
Thalia forgot how to breathe as she scanned him from head to toe.
Instead of his Roem Knights uniform, Varkas wore a black breastplate engraved with the crest of the Si’eikan family. Over his shoulders, a dark gray cloak made of animal hide hung loosely.
Seeing him look so much like the Khan horse-warriors who had once struck terror across the entire Lobiden continent made her heart tighten.
With long strides, he marched up the stairs and came to a halt in front of her.
Perhaps because he had come in a hurry, his usually neat hair was uncharacteristically disheveled.
He leaned toward her, his eyes—sharp like polished metal—piercing into hers.
“How is your condition?”
Thalia could only blink blankly. Normally, she would have snapped at him to mind his own business, but strangely, her tongue felt parched.
After a long silence, she finally managed to squeeze out a word.
“……I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed. He seemed suspicious of her unusually quiet response.
After staring intently at her face, Varkas pulled off his glove and reached out to touch her forehead. Thalia swatted his hand away reflexively.
A sharp smack echoed, followed by a heavy, fierce silence. She clutched her stinging fingers, warily gauging his reaction.
He didn’t seem particularly offended. No—she couldn’t tell. Had she ever been able to read his expression correctly even once?
Thalia lowered her gaze and murmured in a tight voice.
“You… you surprised me, touching me so suddenly.”
Then, those long, pale fingers invaded her vision once more.
Thalia pulled her neck back. But he did not allow her to push his hand away a second time.
Determined, Varkas lightly brushed the hair from her forehead. Then, without giving her a chance to refuse, he swept her up into his arms and spoke bluntly.
“You had better get used to my touch from now on.”
Thalia’s eyes flew wide. Her heart gave a small, fluttering spasm.
What did he mean by that?
No. No. Don’t hope for anything.
He was simply looking after a pathetic cripple. As she tried to crush the lingering attachment growing like weeds inside her, Varkas adjusted his hold to make her more comfortable and began walking slowly down the stairs.
Fearing she might fall, Thalia wrapped her arms around his neck. Varkas supported her back with one hand and stepped down with careful deliberation.
A moment later, the sight of a garden filled with unfamiliar men unfolded before them.
Thalia scanned them with a puzzled expression. At a glance, they didn’t look like soldiers belonging to the Roem Knights.
Every one of them carried a long halberd on his back, and over their dark armor, they wore loose, robe-like coats.
One of the men stepped forward toward Varkas.
“Is she the one to become the next Grand Duchess?”
Thalia scrutinized the man. He was a young man with dark, sun-kissed wheat-colored skin, brownish-black hair, and black eyes.
He observed her with a curious gaze as she peered out from within her cloak, then bowed politely.
“It is an honor to meet you, Princess. I am Tyrone El Drakan.”
Only after hearing that unfamiliar name did Thalia realize the men lined up before her were Easterners. It seemed the vassals of the Si’eikan family had come to escort him.
She pulled down the hem of the fabric covering her face to return the greeting. However, Thalia’s attempt was thwarted by Varkas.
Pulling the hood back over her head, Varkas passed the man and spoke in an indifferent tone.
“We depart immediately. Have the horses ready.”
“Will it be alright not to stop by the Imperial Palace?”
“The handover of the knights is already complete. There is no reason to remain here any longer.”
Varkas replied firmly, then cast a cold look at the servant standing blankly by the carriage.
“Why are you just standing there? Open the door.”
The dazed servant immediately pulled the carriage door open.
Varkas stepped inside and set her down on a seat layered with thick cushions. Then, with meticulous hands, he straightened her clothes and said, “We will be traveling for several hours without rest. If you feel uncomfortable, signal the coachman.”
Thalia looked up at him with confused eyes.
She had no way of knowing why he was in such a rush. Was someone chasing them?
The faces of Gares and Aila flashed through her mind.
Were those two plotting something?
Aila’s venomous voice, warning her that she would regret this, lingered in her ears.
Thalia bit her lip. Scheming had always been her role. But now, their positions were reversed.
If Aila loved Varkas even half as much as she did, she would do anything to get him back.
Perhaps she would send assassins to attack them. Maybe Varkas was worried about that, and so…
“Highness.”
As if noticing the complicated thoughts swirling in her head, he lifted her chin to meet her eyes.
“I told you before. You don’t need to think about anything.”
His low, melodic voice echoed in her mind like a hypnotic spell.
Thalia looked flustered.
What was his intention in saying that? Was he trying to block her in advance so she wouldn’t cause trouble?
Or, or…
She quickly put the brakes on her straying thoughts.
This was the man who had turned her mind into a mess and then left as if nothing had happened.
The man who had thrown her into an unfamiliar place and hadn’t shown his face for a week.
The scars inside her were too deep to harbor vain hopes over a few significant words.
Thalia pushed his hand away.
“……Stop talking nonsense and just leave if we’re going.”
Even at her blunt snap, he didn’t move an inch.
His unreadable gaze grazed her forehead. Thalia licked her dry lips. Only when her throat felt completely parched did he slowly stand up and exit the carriage.
Only after hearing the door click shut did Thalia exhale the breath she had been holding.
She scooted closer to the carriage wall, and through the window frame, she saw Varkas talking with the Easterners.
Among the men with dark hair and light wheat-colored skin, he stood out like an outsider. It occurred to her that he might not be that different from them after all.
He had left his home at a young age and spent most of his life in the Imperial Palace. To him, the East must also be a foreign place.
Suddenly, an image of a young boy sent alone to a foreign land formed in her mind. That image shifted into the memory of herself when she first arrived at the Imperial Palace.
Was six-year-old Varkas as lonely as she had been? Did he feel just as lost and suffocated, as if he had stepped into the belly of a monster?
While she was lost in those thoughts, the stationary carriage began to move. Thalia watched as landscapes, both foreign and familiar, flowed by like a river.
Suddenly, a bitter smile escaped her. Was she really in a position to worry about the man who would rule the East?
From now on, she would be going to a strange land all by herself. She was about to start a new life in a place where she had no one to lean on, yet here she was, worrying about someone else…
‘Well, it’s not like I ever had a place to lean on anyway.’
Thalia curled into a ball in the corner of the carriage and buried her face in her knees.
The Imperial Palace had been no different; she had no place to plant her feet there, either.
To Senebier, she was nothing more than a useful tool.
To the Emperor, she was an uncomfortable existence that constantly reminded him of his past mistakes, and to her half-siblings, she was no different from a dirty stain that had to be cleared away someday.
A sudden curiosity struck her.
What would she become in the East?
