TFM 51

Chapter 51

****

She recalled the days when she would gather every word that flowed from his mouth like jewels, chewing them over and over again.

Even his dagger-like words, she would plant deep in her heart and stroke them over and over.

But now, she hated the pain. She was tired of assigning special meaning to his trivial words and actions, only to be disappointed.

She was no longer a foolish adolescent girl, and she had come to realize, utterly and completely, that to him, Talia Roem Guirta was utterly meaningless.

She struggled desperately not to cling to the strong arms that lifted her carefully, ruthlessly cutting off the stubborn sprouts of hope that tried to reach out.

His actions toward her stemmed solely from a sense of duty.

She had observed and analyzed him for over a decade, dissecting him hundreds of times in her mind. She understood exactly how he operated.

Regardless of his deep-seated loathing for Talia Roem Guirta, to him, she was someone he had to protect. She might not be as important as Gareth or Ayla, but she wasn't someone he could just leave to be torn to shreds.

For a man who lived to fulfill his duties, failing to do his part meant he felt a debt. In a way, it was only natural.

"I'll prepare your meal."

Varkas, who had entered the dimly lit tent unnoticed, spoke as he laid her upon the bed.

Talia, lost in thought, lowered her eyes to her legs. The numbing effect of the medicine was already wearing off; a tingling sensation began spreading from her shins up to her hips.

"Forget the food. Just light some incense."

"After the meal."

A firm voice rang out above her.

She forced her dazed eyes open and glared at him. But Varkas had already turned away, giving instructions to his servant.

She wanted to hurl a pillow at his tiresome back, but her limbs felt heavy as waterlogged cotton, unable to move an inch. Finally giving up on anger, she buried her face in the flames, inhaling the scent of cedar and mint leaves.

A moment later, Varkas returned with the bowl of gruel. Talia reluctantly picked up the spoon. The very act of forcing something into her stomach felt like torture, but if she didn't at least pretend to eat, this wretched man would never allow her to light the incense.

Unable to bear the worsening pain, she forced the slimy, greenish mass, thick with herbs, into her mouth.

"Is that enough?"

She slammed the half-empty bowl down. The man, who had been standing guard, watching her eat, examined the bowl as if inspecting it.

Talia added frustratedly.

"I ate it. What more do you want me to do!"

After staring at her face, now covered in cold sweat from the pain, for a moment, Varkas turned away and ordered a servant to bring an incense burner.

Once again, the milky-white smoke enveloped her brain. Feeling the pain gradually subside, Talia slumped her body.

It felt as if she had entered a cold cloud. The man's presence, which had been scraping at her nerves like a blade, also gradually faded.

How long had she been lying there, intoxicated by that languid sensation? An unpleasant shadow caught her dazed vision.

Talia strained her unfocused eyes and stared intently at it. The elegant silhouette of a woman standing against the sunset stained her retina. Only a beat later did she recognize that figure as her noble half-sister.

Talia observed her rigid face as if examining an ornament in a cabinet. Perhaps something unpleasant had occurred; faint cracks appeared on her otherwise perfectly composed face, like those on finely crafted pottery.

A quiet curiosity stirred within her. This was a woman who rarely lost her composure, no matter how much she tormented her. What could possibly be causing such a grim expression?

"I know you feel responsible for this situation. But you are my fiancé. Continuing to allow that girl to stay in your quarters is inappropriate………………."

Ayla's soft voice seeped into her ears, muffled as if filled with water.

Talia frowned. More than the words themselves, it was the gentle resonance of that voice that irritated her.

Did this woman maintain such refinement even when angry?

For Talia, who needed to expel every last scrap of emotion to feel satisfied, it was a restraint she could never hope to imitate. Perhaps it was precisely that quality that made her hate Ayla even more.

The fact that this woman, possessing virtues she herself could never even pretend to have, was her half-sister was horrifying. Had she not been perpetually forced to compare herself to Ayla, she might have hated her less than she did now.

Ayla continued speaking.

"If it's because you're uneasy leaving that child alone, I'll take her to my quarters. Then you won't need to worry anymore..."

"Does anyone put a snake and a wildcat in the same cage?"

A dry voice, thick with weariness, cut the princess's words short.

Talia shifted her gaze to Varkas, leaning one shoulder against a tent pole.

It was extremely rare to see him leaning against something like that, given his usual upright posture. Had he been here the entire time she was inhaling the medicine? If so, it was astonishing he could stand there looking perfectly fine. She herself had struggled even to lift her eyelids.

"Are you comparing me to such a worthless beast now?"

Ayla's voice sharpened slightly.

Talia strained her eyes a little more. She wanted to see Ayla's face contort with her own eyes. But Varkas, who had straightened his posture, blocked her view with his broad shoulders.

A cold voice echoed out shortly after.

"It's as clear as day what will happen if Her Royal Highness the Second Princess stays in your quarters."

He let out a low sigh and added in a somewhat cynical tone.

"Or perhaps you wish to see the necks of your cherished maidservants all severed?"

Ayla fell silent, as if speechless.

Talia stared blankly at his back, shrouded in deep shadow.

'……So, he was watching me after all. He kept me close to prevent me from causing any more trouble.'

She hadn't expected anything from the start. Therefore, she shouldn't feel disappointed.

Then why, why was she feeling this pain again?

Frustrated with herself, she closed her eyes.

As she let go of the thread of consciousness she'd been clinging to, the irritating noises faded instantly. It felt like sinking into deep water. She gladly sank into the world of unconsciousness.

***

The suffocating heat had persisted for days.

For those tasked with transporting dozens of corpses, it was nothing short of a catastrophe.

To prevent decay, they stuffed the body cavities with purifying salt and dried herbs, and smeared myrrh and ointment over the ashen, discolored skin. Yet, day by day, a peculiar stench seeped from the coffins.

Naturally, the faces of those marching grew grim and distorted. Leaning against the window, Talia watched the scene unfold and suddenly recalled how, upon leaving the imperial palace, she had prayed this procession would lead straight to hell.

Had the gods answered her prayer?

Or had they punished her?

As she pondered this, rubbing her throbbing knee, the sound of a horn echoed from the distance.

She narrowed her tired eyes and gazed over the hill. Below the gentle slope, bathed in intense sunlight, the gray city walls stood tall.

The miserable, gloomy journey that had seemed endless had finally reached its end.