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Varkas stared for a moment at the stone, blazing red as if on fire, before stepping forward to settle the price with the merchant.
Talia looked down at the ruby brooch placed in her palm, dismay shadowing her gaze.
Varkas spoke in a flat voice.
“Do you want anything else?”
It was likely an idle question, yet it felt as if he were prying into her very thoughts.
She tore her eyes away from the moonstone, though they pulled back toward it.
“I don’t need anything. None of these are worth looking at.”
The merchant’s expression soured. Paying him no mind, she turned toward the entrance, and Varkas fell into step beside her, his arm coming around her waist. He seemed intent on bracing her, knowing how easily she faltered on her feet.
Talia leaned into the embrace, which had become familiar before she even realized it, and emerged from the shop to find Daren Dru Shearkan and the retainers waiting.
One of them stepped forward to deliver his report.
“We have concluded the inspection of the market. Supplies are steady, and commerce in the primary goods is flourishing. However, we received a fair number of grievances regarding regional security.”
Stepping through a passage that had grown noticeably sparse, Varkas looked back at him.
“Is there an issue with the town guard?”
“It seems less a fault of the guard and more a sudden rise in bandit activity. There have been successive raids on merchant caravans.”
A faint furrow settled between Varkas’s brows. The man added carefully,
“The Lord of Dorcaen has requested an audience to address the matter. How would you like to proceed?”
“…Very well. We will meet with the castellan first.”
Varkas stroked his chin and gave a firm nod. Stealing a glance at his profile, Talia glanced back toward the boutique.
The gemstone she had cast aside continued to flicker behind her eyelids.
She tried to convince herself that a mere moonstone meant nothing, but the lingering regret refused to dissolve. By the time they cleared the trade exchange and climbed into the carriage waiting on the main thoroughfare, a gnawing anxiety had taken hold.
What if she never found a stone of that exact shade again? Sitting in the carriage, staring with sheer distaste at the ruby in her lap, Talia peered out the window.
Varkas was conferring with his retainers, apparently relaying his recent orders to the knights.
Seeing that they would not depart at once, Talia rummaged through the carriage compartments. Tearing hurriedly through Varkas’s belongings, she managed to unearth a leather pouch heavy with gold coins. Slipping it into her bodice, she cautiously descended to the road.
The guardsmen were occupied with loading wedding tributes from the town’s notables into the supply wagons. Keeping a wary eye on them, Talia hurried across the avenue.
Reentering the bustling exchange, she found the traders already packing their stalls.
Pulling her hood low over her face, she shoved through the thronged lane. The rushed pace proved too harsh; her calves seized up, sharp aches shooting toward her hips. Forcing the pain aside, she burst back into the jeweler’s shop and reached the velvet counter.
There, resting atop a crimson cushion, the jewel that mirrored Varkas’s eyes shed its faint, cool luster. Talia lifted it, gazing into its depths for a long breath before addressing the tradesman.
“I’ll take this one.”
The merchant, who had looked taken aback by her sudden return, beamed broadly.
“You have an impeccable eye, Your Grace. This moonstone is exceptionally rare, with a hue and sheen found nowhere else. It would usually fetch thirty-five soldems, but for the Grand Duchess, I shall let it go for thirty.”
Talia barely registered his chatter as she untied the purse. Just then, a harsh voice cut in from behind her.
“This fellow is a complete crook. How can a single moonstone cost thirty gold coins?”
Talia turned, her eyes going wide as she found Lucas standing there.
He sneered, casting a derisive look at the stone in her palm.
“It isn't even worth five.”
“W-what preposterous nonsense are you spouting?!”
The jeweler’s voice rose, flushed with indignance.
“This moonstone is a pristine, unparalleled treasure! Do you think gems with this coloration and iridescence can be found on every corner?”
“Even so, it’s not worth thirty soldems.”
“Thirty soldems is practically a gift! At auction, it would fetch far more than—!”
Talia tipped the pouch and dumped the gold coins directly in front of the sputtering merchant.
With a heavy chime, coins stamped by the Imperial Treasury spilled across the velvet counter, piling into a small heap. Even at a glance, there were clearly well over thirty.
She shoved the moonstone into her pocket and spoke with haughty indifference.
“I cannot be bothered to count them one by one. Take your price.”
Spinning on her heel, she swept out of the shop.
Mounted warriors waited outside the threshold, their faces severe.
Talia lifted her chin and strode past them. She had barely taken a few steps, however, before Lucas caught her by the shoulder.
“Hey! If you wander off like that—!”
“Hey?”
When she glared at him with murderous venom, the youth shrank back, averting his gaze. It was the fruit of several days spent relentlessly breaking his nerve.
Stifling his irritation, he corrected himself.
“You shouldn't roam about without an escort, Sister-in-law.”
“I had every intention of returning at once.”
“Even so, you should have said something. Slipping off without a word—what were you thinking?”
Talia shoved his hand off her shoulder with undisguised violence.
“I am not a prisoner of House Shearkan. I owe you no ledger of my movements.”
“That isn't what I meant! What if something had happened to—!”
Talia turned her back on his insolent nagging and marched toward the square.
By then, the knights were in their saddles, their preparations for the march complete.
As Talia neared the carriage, Varkas, who had been conversing with a local nobleman, turned a freezing gaze on her.
Talia swallowed hard.
Was he furious because she had vanished without warning?
While she braced herself, Varkas let out a faint sigh and lifted his chin toward the carriage door.
“Get in. I will ride horseback.”
With that, he turned away toward the knights. Letting out a quiet breath of relief, Talia stepped into the carriage.
Shortly after, the carriage lurched into motion, rumbling along the wide avenue.
Talia drew the gem from inside her bodice. The cool, silver-blue mineral cast a dim luminescence in the carriage’s shadowed interior.
She gazed at it for a long while, fascinated as if it were the first precious jewel she had ever possessed, before tucking it safely back against her chest and turning to the window.
The sky, vibrant only hours before, had vanished beneath a thick veil of pale gray clouds. The scent of withered grass drifted on the chilled wind, every trace of summer heat entirely gone. The mounting humidity warned of imminent rain.
Just as she suspected, the moment the carriage rolled past the city’s outer gates, the heavy sky broke into a fine drizzle.
Pressing her cheek to the cold windowpane, Talia watched the approaching landscape.
Atop a low, rolling rise obscured by the mist stood a rugged, severe stone keep. It was Dorcaen Castle.
“Welcome, Your Grace!”
As the company halted before the portcullis, a man draped in a heavy bear pelt hurried through the gates. He was middle-aged, with a thick, unruly black beard.
He bowed low before Varkas, who sat at the fore.
“It is an honor to receive you, Your Grace. I am Uzan Darken, castellan of this domain.”
Varkas dismounted fluidly, his expression impassive as he met the greeting.
“I am Varkas Raedgo Shearkan.”
The castellan studied his new overlord with undisguised curiosity, then offered a cordial smile.
“You must be exhausted after such a grueling trek. Please, step inside. I have laid out a banquet to receive Your Grace properly.”
“I appreciate your care.”
Varkas returned the courtesy with customary reserve, tossed his horse's reins to an attendant, and stepped toward Talia.
Standing dazed in the steady drizzle, Talia flinched as the cold rain hit her. Varkas raised the heavy fold of his cloak, spreading it overhead to shelter her from the mist.
Watching them with intense curiosity, the castellan addressed her with careful deference.
“This lovely lady must be the Grand Duchess. It is an honor, Your Highness. Please, feel free to call me Uzan.”
Talia offered only a cold nod in reply.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed the man’s features, but he recovered with an ingratiating smile.
“It is an immense privilege to host a lady of such noble blood. I will spare no effort to ensure your stay is comfortable in every way.”
“Spare me the flatteries and show us to our quarters. How long do you plan to leave us standing in the rain?”
At her sharp rebuke, the castellan scurried up the stone steps.
“Ah, forgive me, Your Highness! Right this way, please.”
Following him into the massive stone fortress, the stench of burning pine and tallow stung Talia’s nose.
She stayed pressed close to Varkas's side, surveying the gloom of the ancient keep, which bore an unsettling chill.
Like a fortress forged during the chaos of the warring states, the interior lay steeped in heavy darkness and stagnant, sodden damp.
“This will be your chamber.”
The castellan showed them into a bedchamber on the second floor. It was unexpectedly snug, furnished with considerable care.
END