The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 41, 42
## Chapter 41
### THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
The crown prince’s thick neck flushed red, and his veins bulged with rage. It looked like he was going to throw a punch at any moment, and Edric, by instinct, stepped closer to Talia. He wasn’t the only one sensing the danger; Varkas, who had remained motionless and silent as a shadow, fluidly interposed himself between them.
—The schedule has already been delayed enough. Let us proceed with the ceremony.
The second princess, who had frozen for a brief instant, shifted her gaze toward Lord Siorkan. It was only for a second, but Edric, whose nerves were on edge, noticed how her body tensed. Apparently, even that shameless woman knew it was better not to provoke Lord Siorkan when he showed such a severe expression.
She pressed her lips together and looked away. The crown prince, who was still breathing heavily as if he were about to explode, gnashed his teeth and returned to his place in front of the altar.
Once the tension dissipated, the high priest —who had shrunk like a frightened turtle while watching the atmosphere— cleared his throat and resumed the ritual.
Edric stepped back a bit and watched how the three members of the imperial royalty received the prayer of consecration one by one. The crown prince was the first to kneel before the altar. The high priest raised a silver chalice, poured holy water over him, and intoned a blessing in the ancient language.
Then it was the turn of the first princess and her future husband, Lord Siorkan. Finally, Talia bowed her head before the priest.
Edric contemplated her lowered eyes as if he were looking at a stranger. The light from hundreds of candles spilled over her honey-gold hair and her pale skin, enveloping her in a celestial glow; she looked like a being from another world.
As he looked at her, entranced, the priest poured holy water over her head. The crystalline stream dripped through her hair like threads of gold, sliding down her smooth forehead, over her cheeks, and down her straight nose until accumulating on her chin.
The priest raised his hand over her head, infusing divine power into the blessing.
—May the grace of God be with you, now and always…
The prayer, which had seemed endless, finally came to an end. When the priest rang the small silver bell, the crown prince was the first to stand up and cross at great strides among those present. The first princess and Lord Siorkan followed him, and at last, Talia Roem Guirta straightened her back.
With her chin held high, she crossed the hall with the dignity of a queen. No one could take their eyes off her.
The personification of discord. A woman who was once considered sinister and cursed. And yet, in that instant, everyone seemed to realize —perhaps for the first time— that she was, indeed, an imperial princess.
The altitude increased sharply, and the air that before was dense and hot like boiling water, turned cool. Breathing that dry and crisp air, Talia looked out the window toward the sky that was staining red. The dark blue of the night advanced from the east. Another day that ended in silence, without incidents.
Her throat burned, as if she had swallowed a ball of fire. She opened the small storage box attached to the corner of the carriage and pulled out the silver knife she had brought from the monastery. The pale blade gleamed faintly, as if whispering to her: “I have waited long enough.”
She tucked it into her pocket and stepped down from the carriage carefully. Before her eyes appeared the noisy bustle of the camp: tents, torches, laughter, and music.
Talia covered herself well with her hood and scanned the area. It seemed that Gareth had decided to organize a grand banquet, perhaps to cheer himself up after his foul mood. The servants went from one side to another busier than ever, carrying food and wine between the tents, while several soldiers were already drunk and rowdy.
Talia moistened her dry lips and brushed her fingers against the knife she carried in her pocket. The chaos was welcome; it would make her task easier. She moved cautiously through the camp.
At that moment, a royal guard saw her and came running over, his face lit up.
—Your Highness!
Talia frowned. Why did this man insist on hovering around her like a faithful dog? His unnecessary familiarity bordered on insolence, and to her, it felt more irritating than endearing.
Fixing him with a cold and indifferent look, she let out a scoff of disdain and passed him by. But even that icy reaction did not discourage him.
—You must have felt suffocated, Your Highness! Come this way, the servants are preparing your food. Watching them cook might distract you, don’t you think?
Ignoring his incessant chattering, Talia walked toward the place where the music was coming from. Soon she spotted Gareth, seated before a brilliantly lit pavilion, feasting in front of the bonfire.
She stopped a few paces away. His companions were desperately trying to entertain him to get him out of his foul mood. Jesters in flashy costumes juggled with daggers, the musicians played sensual melodies adapted to his tastes, and a few female servants flirted shamelessly under the pretext of attending to him.
Talia contemplated the scene with a slight mockery, but then the guard interposed himself in front of her.
—You shouldn’t go around there, Your Highness.
She looked up at his serious face. He had the same expression as in the temple, the one that made it seem like he was protecting her from danger. She was on the verge of laughing. As if I would believe that.
—Do not meddle in what does not concern you —she snapped coldly.
Turning on her heels, Talia headed instead toward the tents pitched near the riverbank. Her true objective was not Gareth.
Trying to look as natural as possible, she searched for Ayla’s camp, and soon found her stepsister surrounded by ladies-in-waiting, dining and chatting happily.
Talia hesitated. There were several knights stationed nearby. To them, she was a person of interest; if she approached carelessly, they would stop her immediately.
She bit her lip, frustrated. How could she approach without raising suspicion?
While she continued to ponder, the guard who hadn’t stopped chattering suddenly fell silent. Talia looked at him out of the corner of her eye; he was watching her with suspicion, undoubtedly noticing something strange in her behavior.
Feigning calmness, she sat at a nearby table and said suddenly, hoping to divert his attention:
—I am hungry. Bring me something to eat.
The guard’s face lit up again, ridiculously easy to please.
—Right away, Your Highness! Please wait here; I will have it prepared for you immediately.
As soon as the annoying guard left, Talia looked back toward Ayla from the edge of her hood. Her stepsister was laughing at some joke from a servant.
Can I really do it? Can I really end the life of that damned woman?
Her mouth went dry. Perhaps they would catch her before she had the chance; then there would be no way to pass it off as a simple joke.
She touched the knife in her pocket, weighing the value of what she was about to do.
Even if Ayla disappeared from this world, Varkas would never be hers. He would go on living as always, and she, Talia, would vanish on the execution block. The only thing awaiting at the end of this path was a miserable death.
Even so…
Would seeing Varkas become Ayla’s husband be a better fate than death? As the Grand Duchess of Siorkan, Ayla would bear his heir, while Talia would wither away in torment.
Perhaps they would even force her to marry whatever man Sevenevier chose for her, some vile and repulsive creature. She would endure his disgusting touch until she couldn’t take it anymore, and then she would hang herself. Yes. That was inevitable.
If death was certain either way, then perhaps it was better to end things cleanly tonight, taking Ayla with her.
Her resolution hardened. Talia stood up and began to advance, as naturally as she could, toward Ayla.
But just at that moment, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of her vision.
That woman…
—
## Chapter 42
### THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
For the past few days, she had been watching her like a hawk. And now, that very same woman was slipping silently between the tents.
Narrowing her eyes, Talia followed her stealthily. The woman seemed to have mastered the art of moving naturally without drawing attention. Her steps were so light and swift that, if Talia hadn’t been familiar with the distinctive movements of those trained by the House of Taren, she would have lost sight of her in an instant.
The woman quickly crossed the camp and disappeared between two long lines of supply wagons. Talia hesitated for a brief instant, then approached stealthily behind one of the large wagons and peeked through the narrow space between them. But the woman was no longer there.
Startled, Talia looked around frantically and made her way between the wagons. Suddenly, something at her feet tripped against her boot with a slight bump.
What is this…?
She crouched down and found a small glass vial under one of the wheels; she frowned as she picked it up. Just as she was about to examine it more closely, a few drops of a slippery, viscous liquid dripped from the rim and brushed her fingers.
She startled and threw the vial away, bringing her hand to her face to sniff it cautiously. A floral aroma, sickly sweet, mixed with the rancid smell of animal secretions, hit her nose. The stench was so strong it made her head spin and she had an instinctive gag reflex. With a grimace of disgust, she wiped the strange substance off with a handkerchief, but the smell refused to go away.
Disgusting.
She threw the dirty handkerchief to the ground and stood up— Only to find a dark shadow looming over her.
Scared, Talia snapped her head up and shrieked, stumbling backward onto the dirt. Varkas was standing before her, his face cold and indecipherable.
—What are you doing here?
Talia stared at him, dumbfounded, and then sprang to her feet. How long has he been watching me?
Her heart was pounding hard even though she hadn’t done anything wrong… yet. Trying desperately to look calm, she lashed out with a sharp voice.
—You scared me! What are you doing lurking around like a rat without making the slightest sound?!
—You still haven’t answered my question.
Ignoring her venomous tone, Varkas uncrossed his arms and took a step toward her. Talia backed away, but then raised her chin defiantly.
—Why should I answer you? What do you care where I go or what I do?!
She tried to leave, but Varkas moved his long legs and blocked her path. Trapped between the wagon and his tall, slender silhouette, Talia looked at him uneasily.
—W-what are you doing?
—Do you expect me to let you wander alone so you can get into another dirty mess?
His severe tone made her shrink her shoulders. He gazed down at her from above for a moment, then sighed slightly and gestured with his chin.
—I will escort you back to your quarters. Walk.
—I-it’s not necessary. I can go alone…
—Is there any reason why I shouldn’t escort you?
Talia’s hand closed instinctively around the hilt of the knife in her pocket. Idiot. She had just given away that she was hiding something.
Varkas’s eyes narrowed. In a panic, Talia pushed him away from his chest with both hands.
—Do not meddle in my business! Move!
Even though she pushed with all her might, he didn’t move a millimeter. He looked slender, but his body was hard as iron.
Trying to hide her fear, Talia raised her chin arrogantly.
—Didn’t you hear me? Step aside.
Varkas observed her in silence, then stepped back slowly. Talia seized the moment and slipped past him through the narrow space between the wagons. She had barely begun to hurry away when a firm hand gripped her arm and pulled her back.
Before she could react, his hand plunged into her pocket and extracted the sharp knife. Talia turned pale, looking at him with horror.
Varkas’s elegant fingers brushed the blade as he examined it, his expression completely blank. She could have lied, said it was for self-defense and nothing more. But the way his eyes pierced through her —as if he could read every thought inside her head— shattered what little composure she had left.
Like a child whose only toy has been stolen, she lunged forward in a fury.
—Give it back to me!
He raised the knife far above her reach. Talia stood on her tiptoes, clinging to his uniform and stretching her hands.
—Give it back to me! I said give it back!
Varkas watched her tantrum with a hardened face— and suddenly threw the knife away. Talia dashed after it, crouching frantically to pick it up— But before she could do so, his boot, clad in a golden sabaton, kicked it hard, sending it sliding under a wagon.
She stared, stunned, and then bent down as if she were going to crawl underneath to retrieve it— Only for his long, powerful arm to wrap around her waist and lift her by force.
Her face distorted with fury as she looked at him with hatred, murder flashing in her eyes. But Varkas’s expression was just as grim.
—I won’t ask you what you planned to do with that.
He leaned down toward her, his face a mere few inches from hers, and pronounced each word like the edge of a sword scraping against metal.
—From now on, you will be under constant surveillance. So erase every stupid and useless thought roaming through that little head of yours.
Who are you to speak to me like that? Who are you to take what is mine? Who are you— When you are about to become another woman’s man. When you are about to leave me forever. You are the one who made me want to kill her… so why won’t you let me do it?
A knot of words pressed in her throat, but none managed to come out. If she opened her mouth, she would cry and scream like a child. So she clenched her teeth tightly.
Varkas straightened up and gestured with his chin again, as if indicating for her to lead the way.
Talia glared at him, her eyes filled with hatred, then turned abruptly and strode away among the wagons. His promise of constant surveillance was no empty threat: Varkas followed right behind her, silent as a shadow.
The presence that had once felt unbearably comforting now felt suffocating and vile. When she had longed for him to be near, he never came. And now, at the one moment she least needed him, when she had gathered the courage for the most important decision of her life… he appeared, only to stop her.
To protect Ayla… No. Perhaps to protect Gareth.
He could never understand why she carried that knife in her pocket. He would never comprehend why she gnashed her teeth at her stepsister, while she didn’t even flinch at her stepbrother’s beatings.
Talia turned her head, contemplating the camp, which was now sinking into darkness. Ayla would probably be laughing right now, surrounded by people who adored her, savoring the happiness that would soon arrive.
The mere thought of that radiant face made Talia’s stomach twist with rage. That detestable woman. She had everything and, even so, she managed to look at Talia with pity, with that compassionate gaze. It was unbearable.
I still want to kill her.
As that thought burned inside her, she bit her chapped lips until they bled. Then suddenly, Varkas —who had been walking silently behind her— grabbed her arm and yanked her back roughly.
Startled, Talia looked at him with wide eyes. For an instant she wondered if he had read her thoughts. But he wasn’t looking at her.
His expression had turned grave as he stared at the sky. Following his gaze, Talia gasped.
Something huge —the size of a house— was plummeting toward them at a terrifying speed. Before she could even process what it was, the ground shook with a deafening crash and clouds of dust rose everywhere.
—A monster!
The cry echoed, followed by shrieks that tore through the camp.
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