TFM 92

Chapter 92

***

The fresh scent of water and the sharp aroma of mint flooded her lungs.

Talia looked up at him with trembling eyes. Varkas leaned toward her and whispered softly into her ear.

“If Your Highness is going to make such a commotion, there’s no point in sharing a room, is there?”

His tone, which sounded almost like a rebuke, snapped her back to her senses. She brushed his hand away and hurriedly stepped back.

As the distance between them widened, his smooth, sculpted physique came into full view.

Talia quickly lowered her gaze.

“Put some clothes on! Have you no sense of shame?”

As she snapped at him in a hushed, reproachful voice, a faint crease formed between his eyebrows.

Shaking his head as if in disbelief, Varkas stood up and retorted dryly.

“That’s not something someone who used to strut around the palace practically half-naked should be saying.”

“When did I ever…!”

Talia, who had raised her head with a flushed expression, clamped her mouth shut when she saw him pulling out a new shirt to put on. As Varkas slipped his arms into the sleeves, he delivered a cutting remark.

“Ever since the time leading up to your coming-of-age ceremony, haven’t you been half-heartedly trying to imitate the Empress?”

Talia’s face contorted with humiliation.

As she recalled the days she had desperately struggled to attract even a shred of his attention, a wave of sorrow welled up inside her.

She snatched the pillow from beside her bed and smacked him across the back with all her might.

“Now that I’m in a position where I can’t even dream of wearing clothes like that, I suppose you must feel quite relieved!”

Varkas, who had been buttoning his shirt, turned to look at her with a cold stare.

Talia, who had been fuming, froze in place. Since the accident, Varkas had silently endured all her outbursts. But it seemed his patience was finally beginning to wear thin.

The man, whose gaze had been merciless, climbed onto the bed. Talia rolled onto her side almost instinctively. Just as she was about to flee, a strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

In an instant, Talia was forced back onto her back and looked up at him with wide, rigid eyes.

He was the kind of man who would use brute force to firmly subdue her whenever she lost control and lashed out. So even though his somewhat rough behavior wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her, her heart sank.

Varkas pressed his face close to hers and spat out the words menacingly.

“You’d better start breaking that habit.”

Talia looked up at him with eyes full of fear. His expressionless gaze settled on her lips, which stung from being bitten so hard. He added slowly.

“And your habit of self-harm.”

Her heart, which had been creaking, began to pound as if it were about to explode.

She had no way of knowing if it was fear or some other emotion.

She closed her eyes tightly.

“Get, get out of my way.”

“….”

“Can’t you hear me? I said get out of my way!”

Varkas didn’t budge an inch. Under his relentless stare, her lips felt as if they were burning dry.

She tucked her lips, crusted with dried blood, back into her mouth. Varkas, who had been looking down at her with narrowed eyes, released his grip on her wrist. But before she could even think of what to do with her newly freed hand, her jaw was seized.

Talia gasped sharply. Calloused fingers forcibly pulled her curled lips apart. A damp fingertip brushed over her swollen abused flesh.

“Stop tormenting your lips.”

Talia looked up at him with eyes filled with a mixture of anxiety and confusion.

If anyone else had touched her that way, she would have interpreted it as a sexual advance. Hadn’t she encountered countless men during her days frequenting the banquet halls of Senevere who were desperate to lay their hands on her?

But his expressionless face, devoid of any trace of desire, threw her judgment off balance. What felt to her like a touch that squeezed her heart seemed to him to be an action devoid of any real meaning.

Talia exhaled a stifled breath.

“Ah, I get it… just go away.”

As the pleading words slipped out, his eyes—filled with silver fragments—looked up at her. His bottomless pupils seemed to rob her of all reason.

Talia habitually stuck out her tongue to moisten her lips. Then, she brushed his thumb with the tip of her tongue and blushed bright red. Varkas was watching her reaction closely. He seemed to be gauging whether she truly disliked it.

It felt as though her innermost thoughts were being laid bare, and cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Unable to bear the silence any longer, Talia blurted out urgently.

“My leg hurts.”

Varkas hesitated.

She turned her head to the side and repeated in a strained voice.

“I woke up because it hurts. Ugh, just call a healer.”

Only then did he finally step back.

Talia darted to the corner of the bed like an animal freed from a trap. Varkas watched her with a pensive look, then turned away with a short sigh.

“I’ve already prepared the medicine.”

“I don’t need any medicine. Sleep herbs work a hundred times better. If you just call my healer, she’ll know what to do…”

Her curt retort was met with another icy glare. Talia trailed off and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Varkas picked up a glass bottle from the shelf, opened the cap, and held it out to her. Talia, who had been glaring at it as if it were her enemy, reluctantly took the bottle. It was the same medicine she had forced down her throat on her first day in the East, only to pour it into a flowerpot every time afterward.

She closed her eyes tightly and swallowed the bitter liquid, which felt as if it were burning her tongue.

He took the empty bottle with a natural ease and laid her back down on the bed. His matter-of-fact demeanor, as if he were handling a ten-year-old child, only made her thoughts more tangled.

What on earth was that just now? Was he trying to scare her? Or…

“Go to sleep now. You’ll need plenty of rest to get through tomorrow’s schedule.”

The thread of her thoughts snapped as his hands smoothed out the blankets.

Talia watched him as if he were a viper that might strike at any moment.

Whether he was aware of her wariness or not, Varkas adjusted the lamp to dim the light and walked to the corner of the barracks. He then sat down at the table and opened a ledger. He appeared to be reviewing the financial records of the place.

Talia watched his impassive figure in silence, wondering when he would lie down beside her. But as the night deepened, he remained motionless at the desk.

In the end, she was the one who grew weary and fell asleep first.

Talia, who had dozed off at some point, woke up alone the next morning in the empty tent. It was a morning that made her constant anxiety about sharing a bed with him seem utterly pointless.

With eyes still heavy with sleep, Talia scanned the dim interior of the tent, drenched in the morning twilight, and let out a sigh of disappointment.

He had promised from the start that nothing would happen. So why on earth had she been so worried?

“Princess, are you awake?”

Just as she was carefully scanning the space beside her, hoping to find some trace of him, the nanny’s voice drifted in from outside the tent.

Talia stumbled out of bed.

“I’m up.”

Moments later, the nanny entered the tent, balancing a large tray on her head and walking with a light, quick step.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

She looked unusually cheerful. With a beaming smile on her lips, the nanny set down the tray laden with food and chattered away.

“I’ve brought breakfast. I’m sure you’ll like it this time. Last night, the caretaker here prepared a generous spread, and everything was delicious.”

Talia frowned as she looked down at the gold-leafed bowls. They were piled high with porridge made from various grains, rough-looking white bread, pungent cheese, and sticky jam. Just looking at it made her stomach churn.

“Never mind. Just bring me some mead.”

“I can’t. His Highness the Grand Duke gave me a real dressing-down, telling me to make sure you eat properly. Are you okay with me getting punished by His Highness?”

Talia picked up a piece of bread and examined it carefully, checking for any flies or insects that might be clinging to it, then shot the maid a suspicious glance.

It was the nanny who firmly believed that, deep down, the Emperor cherished his daughter, born out of wedlock. She was probably just reading too much into another offhand remark.

Talia snapped back.

“Where did His Highness the Grand Duke go so early in the morning?”

***

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