The maids quietly walked down the corridor.
Talia followed after them, placing each step as carefully as she could.
By the time she finally reached the staircase with a pace slower than a turtle's, her back was soaked in sweat.
She stared down at the stairs with bleak eyes.
At that moment, Varkas came striding into the manor.
Forgetting even how to breathe, Talia swept her gaze over him from head to toe.
Instead of the Roem Knights uniform, Varkas wore a black breastplate bearing the crest of House Siorcan, while a dark gray cloak made from beast hide hung loosely over his shoulders.
Looking like one of the mounted warriors of the Khan people who had once made the entire continent of Libadon tremble in fear, he caused her heart to tighten.
With long strides, he climbed the stairs and stopped before her.
Perhaps because he had come in a hurry, his usually immaculate hair was more disheveled than she had ever seen.
Bending toward her, he fixed her with eyes like polished steel.
“How are you feeling?”
Talia merely blinked blankly.
Normally she would have coldly snapped at him to mind his own business, but strangely enough, her tongue had gone dry.
Only after a long moment did she manage to answer.
“...I'm fine.”
His eyes narrowed.
Apparently, her meek reply had made him suspicious.
After staring intently at her face, Varkas removed his glove and placed a hand against her forehead.
Talia reflexively slapped it away.
The sharp sound of the impact was followed by a fierce silence.
Clutching her stinging fingers, she cautiously watched his expression.
He did not seem particularly offended.
Or perhaps not.
Had she ever once managed to read his face properly?
Lowering her eyes, Talia mumbled in a strained voice,
“Y-you touched me all of a sudden. You startled me.”
Just then, those long white fingers invaded her vision once again.
Talia shrank her neck.
But this time, he did not permit her to push his hand away.
Determined, Varkas lightly brushed her forehead before fastening the ties of her cloak all the way up to her neck, leaving no gaps.
Then, before she even had the chance to refuse, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and said bluntly,
“You will have to get used to me touching you from now on.”
Talia's eyes widened.
Her heart trembled violently.
What did he mean by that?
No. No.
Don't hope.
He was merely trying to care for a pitiful cripple.
As she hurriedly crushed the feelings sprouting like weeds, Varkas adjusted her into a more comfortable position and slowly descended the stairs.
Afraid she might fall, Talia wrapped her arms around his neck.
Holding her back with one arm, Varkas carefully made his way downward.
Soon, the sight of a courtyard filled with unfamiliar men unfolded before her eyes.
Talia looked over them with curiosity.
At a glance, they clearly did not belong to the Roem Knights.
Each of them carried a long axe-spear on his back and wore loose coat-like garments over dark armor.
One of the men stepped forward.
“Is this the lady who will become the next Grand Duchess?”
Talia examined him carefully.
He was a young man with dark wheat-colored skin, blackish-brown hair, and black eyes, as though tanned by the sun.
After curiously observing her, who had only her eyes visible beneath the cloak, he bowed politely.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am Tyron El Drakan.”
Only after hearing the unfamiliar-sounding name did Talia realize that the men before her were Easterners.
Apparently, retainers of House Siorcan had come to attend their lord.
She reached to lower the cloth concealing her face so she could return the greeting.
But Varkas thwarted her attempt.
Pulling the hood over her head, he walked past the man and spoke indifferently.
“We leave shortly. Prepare the horses.”
“Will you not stop by the Imperial Palace?”
“The handover to the Knights has already been completed. There is no reason for me to remain here any longer.”
After answering firmly, Varkas cast a cold look at the attendant standing stupidly beside the carriage.
“What are you waiting for? Open the door.”
The bewildered attendant immediately opened it.
Stepping inside, Varkas gently placed her upon a seat lined with thick cushions.
With careful movements, he adjusted her clothes and said,
“We will be traveling without stopping for several hours. If you feel unwell, signal the coachman immediately.”
Talia stared at him in confusion.
She could not understand why he was in such a hurry.
Was someone pursuing them?
The faces of Gareth and Aila flashed through her mind.
Could the two of them be plotting something?
Aila's venomous voice telling her she would regret this echoed in her ears.
Talia bit her lip.
It had always been her role to scheme.
But now their positions had reversed.
If Aila loved Varkas even half as much as she herself did, she would do anything to win him back.
She might even send assassins to attack them.
Perhaps Varkas feared such a thing as well—
“Your Highness.”
Noticing the chaos in her mind, he lifted her chin and met her eyes.
“Didn't I tell you before? You don't need to think about anything.”
His deep voice echoed through her mind like hypnosis.
Talia looked at him in bewilderment.
What did he mean by that?
Was he trying to stop her from causing trouble before it happened?
Or...
Or...
She hastily crushed the thoughts trying to wander elsewhere.
This was the man who had thrown her mind into complete disorder and then walked away as though nothing had happened.
The man who had left her alone in a strange place and not shown his face for an entire week.
The trench carved inside her was too deep for a few meaningful words to fill it with false hope.
Talia pushed his hand away.
“...Stop saying strange things. If we're leaving, then hurry up and go.”
Even at her curt response, he did not move.
A gaze whose meaning she could not grasp scratched across her forehead.
Talia wet her dry lips.
Only when her throat had nearly burned dry did he slowly straighten up and step out of the carriage.
Hearing the door close, Talia finally released the breath she had been holding.
Slowly pressing herself against the wall of the carriage, she looked through the window frame.
Varkas was speaking with the Easterners.
Among the men with dark hair and pale wheat-colored skin, he stood out like a foreigner.
Perhaps, she thought, he wasn't all that different.
He had left his homeland at a young age and spent most of his life in the Imperial Palace.
The East would be unfamiliar even to him.
Suddenly, the image of a lonely boy sent away to a foreign land appeared in her mind.
That image gradually changed into her own when she had first arrived at the Imperial Palace.
Had six-year-old Varkas been lonely too?
Had he felt suffocated and lost, as though he had been swallowed by a monster?
While she was lost in those thoughts, the stationary carriage finally began to move.
Talia watched the familiar yet unfamiliar scenery flow past like a river.
A bitter smile escaped her lips.
Was now really the time to be worrying about the man who would one day rule the East?
From this moment onward, she herself was heading to a strange land all alone.
She would have to begin a new life in a place where she had no one to rely upon.
And yet she was ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) worrying about something entirely unrelated...
'Then again, when have I ever had anyone to rely on?'
Curling up in the corner of the carriage, Talia buried her face against her knees.
The Imperial Palace had never been a place she could call home either.
To Senevier, she had been nothing more than a useful tool.
To the Emperor, she was an uncomfortable reminder of his past mistakes.
To her half-siblings, she was little more than a filthy stain that would one day have to be erased.
Suddenly, she found herself wondering.
What would she become in the East?
