TFM 50

Chapter 50

***

Talia's face twisted in fury as she lashed out, slapping his face hard.

"You damnable brat! You just can't resist getting in my way every single time!"

His blue eyes flickered faintly in the darkness. Yet the face looking down at her remained as coldly detached as ever. That unshakable composure was terrifying.

Talia dug her nails into his cheek. Varkas, gripping her wrist without flinching, scanned the chaotic campsite.

His icy gaze swept over the faces of the pensive maidservants, the flustered knights of the day, and finally the woman clutching his burned cheek and sobbing.

A dry sigh escaped his lips.

"Take her to the healer."

Varkas pointed at the woman with a slight nod of his chin before turning away.

Talia thrashed her limbs wildly, screaming in agony.

"Who do you think you are! That woman is a criminal! She should be beheaded immediately!"

She caught glimpses of people who had rushed over at the commotion whispering about her. But she had no energy left to maintain her dignity. She bellowed so loud the entire camp seemed to shake.

"You damn bastard! What kind of knight are you!"

But Varkas didn't bat an eye.

Without a word, he crossed between the tents and entered the barracks, laying her down on the wide bed.

Talia, oblivious to the fact she'd been dragged into his bedroom, was consumed only by venting her boiling rage.

"You never once properly protected me! Never! Ever! You left me to be torn to shreds! You didn't plan to save me this time either, did you? You wanted me dead. That's why, that's why you left me behind! You didn't even come to rescue me right away! I know everything!"

Ignoring her as she screamed at the top of her lungs, he pinned her wrists down on the bed and forced her hands open.

Blood and pus oozed from her palm, now a bright red burn. Varkas, frowning as he stared down at it, picked up a small glass vial from the shelf.

She screamed when she saw him pour the unidentified liquid onto her hand.

"No! Don't! Leave me alone!"

After silently applying the medicine to her wound, he tightly wrapped a white bandage he'd produced from somewhere.

Talia, who had been wildly pounding his shoulder with her other hand, soon exhausted all her strength and went limp. Varkas, watching her with a dry gaze, slowly rose to his feet.

"I'll fetch a sedative."

Talia, half her face buried in the pillow, gasping for breath, lifted her eyes to look at him.

Varkas calmly walked over, took a medicine bottle from a shelf installed on one side of the tent, and examined it.

Over his straight back, the image of him running toward Ayla overlapped. A burning pain overwhelmed her.

Talia spat out in a twisted voice.

"You must find me disgusting, still alive and breathing like this, right?"

His hand, which had been wandering over the shelf, faltered and froze.

After standing motionless for a while, he turned his head so slowly it felt unnatural.

Facing that face, distilled as if all emotion had been removed, something inside her shattered into pieces and crumbled.

Talia wore a desolate smile on her lips.

"How disappointing for you. It was a chance for that thorn in your side to vanish from this world, you know."

Tears finally overflowed, soaking her cheeks. His cool face, too, was distorted beneath a thin layer of moisture.

He shuffled closer and bent down before her. A cold glass bottle touched her lower lip.

"Drink. It will ease the pain a little."

"I don't need it."

"..."

"I don't need anything you give me anymore."

Varkas set the bottle down.

Just then, the lamp's light dimmed, casting a deep shadow over his face.

It didn't matter. She knew exactly what expression he wore without seeing it. As always, either an indifferent face or a gaze mingled with fatigue and irritation.

She turned her back on him.

The man who had been watching silently finally left the tent.

Listening to the receding footsteps, Talia lowered her hand to feel along her leg. The sensation was as hard as a wooden block, sending a chill down her spine.

Crippled.

She hastily banished the word that flashed into her mind.

That couldn't be true. It was just gossip spread by those who hated me.

The royal court was full of skilled healers. Mother would surely know many sorcerers who practiced forbidden magic.

She would undoubtedly find a way to cure me, no matter the cost.

Then, I would flaunt my perfect body before those who had mocked me.

Talia clutched her throbbing knee, then lowered her eyelids.

***

The majestic pilgrimage procession that began at the imperial palace transformed into a somber funeral cortege.

Imperial attendants donned black robes instead of crimson surcoats, and knights draped dull-colored banners over their armor.

The carts that had once carried precious wine, silk, jewelry, and other treasures now solemnly bore thirty-four corpses, while musicians played a low-pitched dirge at regular intervals.

Inside the carriage, Talia listened blankly to the sound, feeling the dormant pain surge back with intensity. She fumbled and grasped the incense burner.

Inside the cold, lifeless brass urn lay nothing but a mound of ashes.

Talia muttered a brief curse and struggled to lift her body from where it had slumped on the cushions. She then opened a box installed beneath the seat and retrieved a new incense burner.

It was tightly packed with thoroughly dried ice flowers, moonflowers, mandrake leaves, and red shard flowers.

She inserted it into the jar and lit it using a magic stone. Thick, billowing smoke rose up.

Feeling her mind shrouded in a damp fog, Talia slumped back onto the bed.

Since the return procession began, Talia had spent most of her time drugged on painkillers. Immersed in the acrid smoke, tomorrow became today, and today became yesterday.

In her half-dreaming state, she vaguely registered the occasional wizard checking her condition or the guard knight bringing food and pestering her, but their presence always merely brushed the surface of her consciousness.

Only Varkas could pull her back into the painful reality.

Looking up at the shadow that appeared as the carriage door opened, Talia narrowed her eyes, still hazy and blurred.

Her carriage, which had occupied the very rear of the procession, had for some reason been moved to the front section, now under the intense escort of the Imperial Knight Commander. It seemed they felt the need to monitor her directly, to ensure she could cause no further trouble.

Varkas stepped inside the carriage and bent over her, sprawled like seaweed.

She felt his cold fingers brush away a few strands of hair from her sweat-dampened forehead.

"Burn the incense sparingly. At this rate, you'll build up a tolerance quickly."

"...."

She stared at his face as if examining a long-overdue homework assignment.

The man, who had been silent as if waiting for her reaction, let out a faint sigh.

"We plan to camp here tonight."

The sun was setting, and the carriage had stopped, so naturally, they planned to spend the night here.

She couldn't fathom why he felt the need to spell things out when it wasn't necessary. Wasn't he the man who kept silent even when he absolutely had to speak?