TFM 33

Chapter 33

***

After dismissing the attendants and following him out of the corridor, a garden bursting with marigolds, daisies, and rosemary came into view.

The plants, saturated with water, filled the air with a rich, grassy scent. Inhaling the pungent fragrance deeply, Ayla turned her head and looked up at Varkas.

"What happened last night?"

At the hesitantly uttered question, the man, who had been walking quietly, turned his head toward her.

Ayla stared intently into his eyes. His pale, luminous blue irises held nothing. As she gazed into those pale eyes that seemed to reflect everything back, a fresh wave of suffocating heaviness gripped her chest.

Will the day ever come when I find a place within them?

Lost in that thought, the tightly sealed lips of Varkas parted.

"Nothing worthy of Your Highness's concern occurred."

"...It seems something did happen, then."

Without another word, Varkas strode decisively into the rain-drenched garden.

Heavy raindrops blanketed his broad shoulders and back, turning them white. As she watched his indifferent back ahead with a look of displeasure, Varkas extended a hand toward her.

"The puddle is deep."

Realizing the meaning behind his words, Ayla flushed and shot him a sidelong glance.

She didn't want to throw herself at a man who'd been so rude. Yet she couldn't abandon her fiancé, waiting for her to approach in the rain. After pretending to be distracted for a moment, Ayla reluctantly stepped toward him.

Varkas bent slightly, slipped one arm behind her knees, and lifted her effortlessly.

Ayla rested her head on his shoulder, just as she had done since she was a five-year-old child.

"You know, you have a sneaky side to you, don't you?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly at the out-of-context accusation. Instead of explaining her complex, nuanced feelings, Ayla pulled him closer, holding him tighter.

Varkas wrapped his cloak tightly around her body as they crossed the wide courtyard. Ayla buried one cheek into his collar.

Varkas's body carried the light scent of herbs, the faint metallic smell of his armor, and a distant fragrance reminiscent of dry leaves or hay. While intoxicated by that cool scent, her unpleasant mood melted away as if by magic. Ayla let out a self-deprecating laugh.

She found herself amusing, fluttering like a young girl over an action that was merely an old habit for him.

This man's affectionate behavior toward her was solely to keep a promise made to her mother. Kindness born of duty. Nothing more, nothing less. Even knowing this well, she couldn't stop her heart from aching.

'Cruel man. You should have just stayed cold. Then I could have been satisfied with a purely strategic relationship too...'

She lowered her eyes sadly.

"I shall have bathwater brought to your chamber. Warm yourself and then rest."

Varkas, who had swiftly crossed the courtyard, stopped at the entrance to the lodgings and spoke. Ayla nodded.

Varkas climbed the stone steps with ease, bending slightly to set her down.

Then, the sky flashed, and a thunderous roar echoed.

Ayla reflexively wrapped her arms around his neck.

A deafening boom, as if shaking the heavens, reverberated, followed by a golden flash splitting the black clouds. Staring blankly over his shoulder at the scene that seemed like the end of the world, she suddenly noticed a pale figure perched on the second-floor window sill.

For a moment, she wondered if she was seeing some terrifying illusion. Ayla gaped, her mouth agape.

The flickering light revealed a face eerily beautiful. The snow-white face, set atop a slender neck that seemed fragile enough to snap, appeared to burn with a terrifying hatred.

It wasn't as if she hadn't known about her half-sister's extraordinary beauty, so why was she so shocked now?

Talia, her eyes gleaming fiercely in the storm, looked like an angel of death. Her utterly ominous appearance made Ayla hold her breath involuntarily. Then, Talia, who had been as still as a statue, picked up a vase from the windowsill. Immediately, a shard flew toward the pillar near where they stood.

Ayla screamed.

Thanks to Varkas’s protective embrace, she avoided being showered with glass shards, but a small cut appeared on Varkas’s face. Ayla hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it against his cheek.

Varkas accepted it with his characteristic impassive expression, wrapping it around his face before glancing upward.

Following his gaze, Ayla stiffened when she saw Talia still glaring at her.

Seemingly without a shred of guilt for her actions, Talia, whose eyes blazed with fury, twisted her mouth. Her blood-stained lips looked like a crushed rose.

A fear worse than anger stirred within Ayla's chest. The half-sister she had always dismissed as insignificant felt, in that moment, like the most ominous and threatening presence in the world. The evil spirit who had condemned her mother to a life of misery seemed poised to drag her into the same abyss of despair.

Ayla shuddered at the chilling premonition.

***

The rain that had fallen all night finally subsided at dawn.

Talia, who had spent the night nearly sleepless, gazed out at the garden bathed in the first light of day with hollow eyes.

The once-lush blades of grass now stood half-submerged in muddy water, exuding a heavy, grassy stench. The colorful flowers that had adorned the flowerbeds lay scattered like corpses, their stems snapped.

Talia, gazing down at the scene with dim eyes, got out of bed and approached the small table placed before the fireplace.

On the silver plate, untouched food had hardened stiffly. She scanned it indifferently before picking up a small knife placed beside the tray.

Though crafted for cutting food, it seemed equally suited for slicing through human flesh.

Talia ran her fingertips along the sharp blade before slipping it into a pocket of her gown and leaving the room.

The hallway was thick with clammy dampness. She walked as if swimming through the sticky, heavy air, gripping the ice-cold knife tightly.

Her palms were drenched in cold sweat. She couldn't tell if it was from tension or excitement. Perhaps it was both.

She licked her parched lips and crept up the stairs like a thief cat.

Ayla occupied the top-floor room. Reaching the staircase's end, Talia pressed herself against the wall and scanned the corridor, thick with darkness. Fortunately, no one stood guarding the door.

Talia let out a small sigh of relief and cautiously stepped toward the door at the end of the hallway.

As she approached the wooden door with its iron band, a faint herbal scent tickled her nose. It was the smell of incense burned to calm the nerves.

Talia twisted her lips. It seemed last night hadn't been entirely peaceful for Ayla either. Remembering the face that had turned pale as she saw her, Talia chuckled softly. But the scene that immediately followed that memory sent her mood plummeting.

Her face contorting fiercely, Talia thrust her hand into her pocket and gripped the hilt of her dagger.

Her entire body began to tremble violently. The moment she saw Varkas walking through the pouring rain, holding Ayla in his arms, she felt something she had barely been holding onto collapse completely.

She roughly wiped her blurring eyes with her sleeve.

It was her one and only memory.

A memory she had buried deep within her heart for so many years, secretly pulling it out to look at from time to time.

Did she have to turn even that memory into nothing?

Couldn't even one thing have been left as something special, just for her?

Her brain boiled with rage. She knew it was an irrational emotion. Yet, she simply could not forgive those two.

She wanted to punish Ayla, who took away even the last sanctuary left to her. She wanted to make that man feel the same pain she felt.

Talia clenched her burning, stinging eyes and glared at the tightly shut door. If she crossed this threshold, she would be crossing a river of no return.

Perhaps she would be recorded in history as the wicked witch who took the life of a poor, innocent princess. But it didn't matter. She was already considered the worst villainess. What more could she lose by falling even lower?

Her trembling hands gripped the doorknob.