That dry gaze left her mouth parched.
Talia lowered her eyes, picking at her swollen lips with her fingertips.
She didn't know what to say.
Keeping her lips tightly sealed like a mute, she only shifted her eyes about when his even voice reached her.
“Your nanny is in the room next door. Call for her if you need anything.”
Talia looked back up at him.
Sliding his arm into his shirt sleeve, Varkas continued calmly.
“We will leave for the East in a week. I'll have servants brought in. If there is anything you wish to take with you, prepare it beforehand.”
“S-so soon?”
As she stammered in confusion, Varkas, who had been fastening his buttons, turned his gaze back to her.
Eyes veiled in deep mist carefully measured her face.
“Is there a reason for you to remain in the Imperial Palace any longer?”
Talia stared at him speechlessly before slowly shaking her head.
Watching her in silence, Varkas approached the bedside with measured steps. The sudden closeness of his face caused her heart to shrink.
Without realizing it, Talia's gaze fell upon his lips.
Through the slight opening between them, she caught sight of his red tongue.
That had entered me.
Was that real?
Or had it been a dream?
She was staring blankly when her chin was lifted, and transparent blue eyes drew close enough to fill her vision.
“Does the pain often worsen suddenly, as it did yesterday?”
The heart that had tightened now split apart with a crack.
Talia violently slapped his hand away. A surge of irritation rose within her at being treated like a gravely ill patient.
“I don't know. Why should I?”
“If there is a problem, additional treatment—”
“The mages of House Taren couldn't do anything. What makes you think you can cure it?”
Unable to suppress her anxiety, she raised her voice.
His lips closed firmly.
Those red lips, forming a severe line, captured her attention once more.
What mattered now was that those lips had invaded her as they pleased the previous night.
Then why was he concerned about her leg?
Talia parted her dry lips.
“More importantly... yesterday...”
Why did you do that to me? You only did that to give me the medicine, didn't you?
She nearly asked, but closed her mouth again.
Perhaps their lips had touched for no more than a fleeting instant.
Perhaps her ruined mind had distorted the memory on its own.
Swallowing dryly, she stole a glance at his expression.
Apparently unconcerned by the words she had failed to finish, Varkas straightened himself and spoke in his usual level tone.
“A healing mage has been stationed in the adjacent room. If you feel unwell, summon him immediately.”
That's all?
You have nothing else to say to me?
Questions circled endlessly inside her mouth, never reaching her tongue, when his calm voice continued.
“Until the day of our departure, I will remain in the Imperial Palace.”
Talia stared at him as though struck across the head.
Cool fingers settled against her forehead.
Her skin stung as though touched by a blade.
Instinctively shrinking her neck, she watched as Varkas brushed aside the disheveled strands of hair covering her face, then withdrew his hand.
Standing with the window behind him, dark shadows fell across his face.
“For the time being, you will not have to see me. So live at ease.”
Talia hastily parted her lips.
She felt she had to say something, anything, but her throat tightened and no sound emerged.
Slowly, he turned and picked up the coat hanging on the wall.
Talia could only stare blankly at his retreating figure as he crossed the room.
Grasping the doorknob, Varkas looked back over his shoulder.
As though about to speak, his lips parted slightly.
But in the end, he said nothing and walked out.
Click.
Talia stared blankly at the closed door before lowering her feet from the bed.
Sharp tingles climbed through her bones.
Ignoring the searing pain, she walked to the entrance and turned the handle.
Varkas had already descended the stairs.
Only silence lingered in the corridor.
Closing the door again with a hollow expression, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° she returned to the bed.
The only trace he had left behind was a neatly folded ceremonial outfit.
Unfolding the garments stacked carefully upon the shelf, she buried her face in the smooth fabric.
Instead of mint, a rich fragrance of roses seeped into her nose.
Perhaps because he had held her all day, the splendid embroidered satin was saturated not with his scent, but with the heavy perfume oils the maids had repeatedly applied to her.
Making do with that, she draped the clothes around herself and lay upon the cold bed.
She remembered the broad embrace that had held her completely while she writhed in pain.
Having spent the entire night tending to a patient, it must have been the worst night imaginable for him.
What man would welcome such an exhausting and troublesome wedding night?
Talia bit down hard on her trembling lips.
From the beginning, this marriage had been accepted to satisfy her childish desire for revenge.
Having made him recoil from the very first night, she ought to be pleased.
Forcing herself to calm the ache in her chest, she gazed at the bright window.
Sunlight shone brilliantly beyond the transparent glass.
Suddenly, it occurred to her.
This was the first morning she greeted as Talia Roem Siorcan.
With a helpless expression, she murmured,
“How will my life unfold from now on...?”
* * *
Before she knew it, the day of departure for the East had arrived.
Unable to withstand the maids' fussing from early morning, Talia began dressing and looked out the window with tired eyes.
More than twenty wagons stood lined up in the spacious courtyard.
Bales of silk wrapped in linen, dwarven crafts, dresses woven by the elves, and chests filled with rare jewels were piled high upon them.
Half were wedding gifts sent by the Imperial Palace.
The other half were things she herself had obsessively collected over the years.
Looking indifferently at the treasures she had once clung to with fanatic devotion, Talia quietly closed the curtains.
Only a season ago, she had been obsessed with acquiring rare dresses and ornaments.
She had wanted Varkas to see her shine more brilliantly than anyone else and regret his engagement to Aila.
But now, jewels and clothing meant nothing.
No matter what she did, she could never become as elegant as Aila or as beautiful as Senevier.
Even if she adorned herself to the utmost, with this body she would only appear miserable and pitiful.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Talia rubbed her throbbing knee.
The effects of the painkiller she had taken at dawn had already worn off, and the quieted pain was beginning to rear its head once more.
Before she knew it, she had placed a new scented candle into the extinguished brazier.
Just as she was about to light it, a knock sounded behind her.
“Your Highness, Lord Siorcan has arrived.”
At those words, senses that had felt submerged beneath water abruptly sharpened.
Talia hurriedly put down the candle and rose.
Pulling open the door, she saw maids lined up along the wall.
Her gaze swept across them.
“...Where is my nanny?”
“She boarded the carriage ahead of time.”
Talia, who had secretly feared that her nanny might decide to return to the Imperial Palace, released a sigh of relief.
“Wait a moment. I'll come out shortly.”
She turned to retrieve her outer robe when an elderly maid hurriedly spoke.
“Lord Siorcan instructed me to deliver this to Your Highness.”
Talia frowned at the long, dangling garment the maid presented.
It was a loose hooded cloak that covered the entire body.
Apparently, he had sent it to conceal her limping gait.
Her ears burned with humiliation, but she silently draped it over herself.
The long fabric concealed even her feet.
She probably looked as though she had wrapped herself in curtains.
After gently running her fingers over the smooth cloth, she tilted her chin toward the maids.
“Let's go.”
