* * *
A withered leaf drifted down onto the earth.
The skeletal trees, stripped down to bare branches, writhed violently under the relentless wind, while icy rain poured over the hills fading into dull gray-brown.
Sitting on the windowsill, gazing out at the ash-colored landscape, Talia spotted a group of mounted warriors entering the castle courtyard and pressed her face against the cold windowpane.
Beyond the hazy curtain of splashing rain, she saw Varkas seated atop a massive gray warhorse.
She watched him dismount with effortless grace.
After handing the reins to a servant, Varkas swept aside his rain-soaked robe, revealing a face as white and flawless as carved marble.
It was difficult to believe this dignified, composed man was the same barbarian who mercilessly overwhelmed her almost every night.
Wiping the misted glass with her palm, Talia stared at him without blinking.
The moment Varkas turned his head toward her window, she hurriedly drew the curtain shut.
Merely brushing gazes with him sent heat rushing through her body, her heart beating wildly out of rhythm.
Anxiously biting her lip, Talia climbed down from the windowsill and curled up beside the fireplace.
Yet even before the roaring flames, her trembling refused to subside.
She wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face against her knees.
She had no idea how she was supposed to face Varkas anymore.
Ever since they had spent the night together, everything she had once believed to be certain had become hopelessly tangled.
At times, the man beneath the daylight and the man hidden within the darkness felt like entirely different people.
During the day, he wore the same impassive expression as always, as though desire had never existed in his life, treating her no differently than before.
But the man in the darkness was different.
That man, existing only as a faint silhouette, was fierce and primal, like the king of the eastern pagans who had once terrified the ancient kingdoms.
Feeling the dull ache where he had so relentlessly tormented her the previous night, she instinctively pressed her thighs together.
Her cheeks burned.
She had never imagined Varkas would be so... enthusiastic in bed.
Wasn't he a man as ascetic as the priests themselves?
Considering their nights together had begun only because she had forced the issue, the intensity of his passion was almost incomprehensible.
Especially when she remembered how every woman in the Imperial Palace who had tried every trick imaginable to seduce him had ultimately tasted nothing but bitter defeat.
'...Was he like that with Aila too?'
Her thoughts immediately turned in a self-destructive direction.
Until now, she had firmly believed he was incapable of feeling such passion for anyone, convincing herself that even with Aila he had merely fulfilled the obligations expected of a fiancé.
But perhaps their relationship had gone far beyond that.
After all, wasn't he the sort of man who could pour out such overwhelming desire upon her, only to wear a perfectly composed face the following morning as though nothing had happened?
Perhaps he had done all manner of passionate things with Aila as well, only to continue masquerading as her refined and gentlemanly fiancé.
No...
He undoubtedly had.
She could never become someone special to anyone.
She had accepted that truth long ago.
If he could desire her, then he could desire someone else just as easily.
Had he married another woman instead of her, he undoubtedly would have responded in exactly the same way.
'So stop assigning some special meaning to his actions.'
“Oh, honestly! Stop biting your lips already.”
The frivolous voice shoved its way into her brooding thoughts.
Startled, Talia raised her head.
At some point, the nanny had entered the room, a large basket tucked beneath her arm, glaring disapprovingly at her.
“If you wound them, the dye won't take properly.”
“I don't care. After all...”
Varkas won't even be able to see me.
She almost snapped the words back before swallowing them.
The nanny fussed over dressing her every single evening.
If she discovered all her efforts were ultimately pointless, she would undoubtedly become even more unbearable.
Talia hid her bloodstained fingernails beneath her skirt and rested her forehead against her knees.
Clicking her tongue in annoyance, the nanny set the basket on the table.
“Stop sulking and drink this instead. The healing mage brewed fresh medicine from the herbs Her Majesty the Empress sent.”
Talia grimaced as she looked down at the mysterious decoction.
Ever since returning from the Imperial Palace, Senevier had begun sending every tonic imaginable that was supposedly beneficial for conception.
It was silent pressure, ordering her to obey.
And the nanny faithfully carried out the Empress's will.
Holding the bowl of dark liquid directly before her face, she urged impatiently,
“Come on, drink it. Her Majesty specifically instructed that you mustn't miss even a single day.”
Reluctantly accepting the bowl, Talia swallowed the medicine in one gulp.
It felt like swallowing hot mud.
Suppressing the urge to vomit it back up, she hastily poured herself water and rinsed the bitter taste from her mouth.
Suddenly, Varkas's mocking remark—that she seemed perfectly content playing the role of a broodmare—echoed through her mind.
Grinding her bloodied lips together, she forced down the humiliation.
I simply made the choice that was best for myself.
There's no reason to feel ashamed.
Repeating those words inwardly, she roughly wiped the moisture from her lips with the back of her hand when the nanny's excited voice rang out again.
“You're going to get dressed now, aren't you?”
Turning her head, Talia frowned as she watched the nanny laying out clothing from a chest.
Apparently, she naturally assumed Talia would be going to Varkas's chambers again tonight.
Talia turned her gaze back toward the window.
Having returned drenched by the rain, Varkas was probably bathing by now.
Afterward, he would likely attend to whatever official duties remained unfinished.
His workload had increased noticeably these days.
He probably wouldn't retire to his chambers until sunset.
Even while thinking that, her legs had already begun carrying her away from the bed.
After undoing her intricately braided hair, Talia walked toward the bath the maids had prepared in advance.
As she lowered herself into the lukewarm, scented water, the nanny came behind her and began washing her hair.
Leaving herself to those rough hands, she lowered her eyes to her own body.
Every place his lips had touched was still marked by blossoms of feverish color.
Tracing those reddish marks with her fingertips, as though recovering from a fever, Talia felt a faint wave of dizziness and closed her eyes.
What she had expected to be an infrequent obligation had gradually become an ordinary part of everyday life.
At first, she had knocked on his door once every three days.
Then, before she realized it, she found herself visiting his chambers every single night.
She told herself it was only because she couldn't withstand the nanny's constant nagging.
That she simply wanted to conceive a child as quickly as possible so everything would become easier.
Yet somewhere deep inside, she knew that was a lie.
With each passing day, leaving his embrace became more difficult.
Whenever she forced herself away from Varkas and lay alone upon the spacious bed, an overwhelming emptiness washed over her.
Whenever she washed away the traces he had left behind, she felt an inexplicable sense of regret.
She despised herself for it.
But she could no longer control herself.
The wretched fever that had tormented her since she was nine years old had undoubtedly returned.
'No. It isn't that. I'm only using him.'
She hurriedly denied the thought.
She could not allow herself to sink into that swamp again.
Pulling herself together, Talia climbed out of the bath with a resolute expression.
After drying herself with a soft towel, she dressed in the blue velvet gown she had brought from the Imperial Palace.
She knew Varkas would never truly see her appearance.
Even so, she couldn't bear to stand before him looking shabby.
Staring at the face in the mirror that resembled Senevier so disturbingly closely, Talia finally rose to her feet.
Opening the door, she stepped into the corridor illuminated by candlelight.
She had only taken a few steps across the carpet shimmering beneath the flickering flames when her eyes drifted toward the rain-spattered windows.
At that very moment, a flash of golden lightning split the ink-dark sky.
Watching the rumbling heavens for a brief moment, Talia resumed walking.
At last she arrived before his chamber.
The attendant waiting outside opened the door at once, as though he had been expecting her.
Talia cautiously stepped into the room, where darkness lay thick.
At that instant, another brilliant flash illuminated the silhouette of the man standing beside the window in stark white light.
