The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 69, 70
Chapter 69
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Varkas stepped onto the running board and slowly swept his gaze over her with narrowed eyes. A slight crease formed between his straight brows.
Before she had time to figure out the reason, he climbed into the carriage in a single step, picked up the fallen cloak from the floor, and placed it over her shoulders. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he prepared to lift her in his arms.
Talia leaned back in surprise and pushed hard against his shoulder.
“I can walk on my own!”
The effects of the medicine had worn off and pain was beginning to spring from her knees again, but walking for a moment shouldn’t have been a problem. She threw off the cumbersome cloak and climbed down carefully, taking care not to expose her scars.
At that moment, a firm hand gripped her by the shoulder.
“Do you plan to go out dressed like that?”
A gaze as sharp as a wedge fell upon her.
Talia shrugged her shoulders and looked down to inspect her appearance. The straps of her dress must have come loose while she slept; her slender shoulders and arms were completely exposed. That wasn’t all: the neckline had dipped so low that even the swell of her breast was showing.
Her face flushed red as she hastily pulled up the top of her dress.
Varkas silently observed her unseemly state, then let out a small sigh and placed his coat over her shoulders again. This time, Talia did not refuse. Once he tied the laces firmly up to her neck, he lifted her easily in his arms and carried her outside.
It felt as if she had been packaged like a well-wrapped doll. No, it wasn’t even that. He was simply extending pity to an invalid who couldn’t walk properly.
Talia sharply stabbed her own heart with that deliberately cruel thought. If she didn’t dig a hole in her own heart first, it would hurt much less than giving everything to him and having him snatch it away.
“Sir, what should we do with the messenger from the East?”
Just as he reached the threshold, one of the men stationed near the entrance spoke. Talia cast a furtive glance at the man through the cloak. With a build like a bear and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, he was also throwing quick glances at her.
“Do I really need to give orders for something so trivial?” Varkas replied coldly while pulling the cloak completely over her head. “Prepare accommodation in an appropriate place and assign someone to attend to him. I will meet with him first thing tomorrow.”
Without waiting for the man’s response, he walked with a firm step into the building. As he crossed the wide foyer and began to climb the stairs, Talia pieced together fragments of information in her mind.
It seemed that many feared the marriage would sour relations between the Crown Prince and the House of Sheorkan. He had probably been busy cleaning up the mess while Senebier prepared the wedding. He must have calmed Gareth, who was trembling with indignation, and explained to the conservative nobles—including the Marquis of Oristein—that he had not betrayed them.
But despite his efforts, it was clear that people were not willing to accept the sudden change of bride. It was understandable. Even she herself half-suspected that this whole situation might be some malicious joke.
“I will call someone to attend to you.”
Before she realized it, Varkas had carried her into a room and settled her onto a long velvet divan. Talia looked around the warmly furnished bedroom and then averted her gaze back to him.
Varkas unbuttoned the buttons of his ceremonial uniform with one hand and tugged the cord beside the bed to summon a servant. The sight made her insides tighten hard. She cried out in a shrill voice:
“I don’t need any attendant!”
Varkas frowned, looking at her over his shoulder. Talia avoided his gaze and lowered her eyes.
“Call my nanny.”
“It’s late. I will bring her as soon as it dawns. Please bear with it just for tonight.”
Immediately, she threw a fierce glare at him.
“I won’t let anyone attend to me except my nanny. You dragged me here without asking, so take responsibility and bring her!”
His blue eyes cooled with a frigid flash. Talia clenched her fists so hard that her bones ached. He was a man who assigned himself a fixed amount of patience for her each day. He might as well leave right now in disgust.
But perhaps he still had some of today’s ration left, because he walked toward the door and called a servant.
“Send someone to the Annex Palace right now and bring a woman who is a quarter dwarf.”
“Now, sir? At this hour?”
“Yes. Send the fastest rider.”
Varkas shut the door in the face of the dazed servant and then threw a sharp look at her, as if asking if she was satisfied. Talia avoided his gaze. He exhaled a long sigh, then took a robe from the rack and held it out to her.
“Until the person who will attend to you arrives, put this on at least.”
Talia took it immediately, put it over her dress, and demanded in a voice that kept cracking:
“Go. I want to be alone until my nanny arrives.”
“This is also my room.”
For a moment, her vision spun and cold sweat pooled in her palms. Clutching the front of the firmly closed robe, she moistened her dry lips.
“Th-then I will leave. Take me to another room.”
“Your Highness.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. She barely raised her head. Under the shadow of her drooping eyelashes, his blue eyes were submerged in a deep gloom.
“You are the one who accepted this marriage.”
She stared at his expressionless face with wide eyes. So you mean… you’re going to stay here? With me? Fear shrank her insides tightly. She looked down at her aching knees.
Senebier’s gaze upon seeing Talia’s scars flashed before her eyes; the disgust in her mother’s dark eyes transformed seamlessly into Varkas’s silver-blue eyes. His words came out in a tangled whirlwind before she could control them.
“Then… then I cancel it. How can I share a room with you? I only married you to… to make you miserable. You only married me because the Emperor ordered it. You don’t want to be with me either. So let’s cancel everything and…”
“Talia.”
He knelt before her and gently took her face in both hands, bringing his close. Talia found herself looking into his eyes as if she were held captive. In the beautiful irises flecked with silver fragments, her own pale, sweat-moistened face was reflected. His voice came out raspy and hoarse, as if it had choked on something.
“I am not going to do anything to you.”
“……”
“Just for tonight. I bribed the priest beforehand, but I cannot silence every servant in the palace. At least for appearances, we must share the same bedroom on our wedding night.”
The firm tone calmed her racing heart, returning it to its own rhythm. Talia bit her lip and nodded.
Seeing that she had calmed down, Varkas stood up slowly. Talia followed his movements with eyes still filled with caution. He took off his rain-soaked coat and tossed it aside, then sat in the chair by the window wearing only a thin shirt. His silhouette, usually flawless, slouched from exhaustion. A heavy sigh spread through the room.
After a while, servants arrived with trays of wine and food. Talia mechanically forced a piece of bread into her stomach, then drank a glass of strong distilled liquor instead of the usual sleeping herb. As the alcohol warmed her veins, her tense muscles relaxed and the pain dulled.
She poured more liquor into the gold cup and drank again. After several more cups, Varkas—who had been letting her do whatever she wanted—took the bottle away from her.
“That’s enough.”
Talia jumped up from the chair to snatch the bottle from him. But her weakened legs, softened even further by the alcohol, gave way like bones without limbs. She wobbled like a rag doll. Varkas caught her mid-fall and laid her down full length upon the bed.
Even half-lost in the fog of drunkenness, Talia checked her skirt first. Varkas observed this with darkened eyes, then pulled the blanket over her shoulders before walking to the window to draw the curtains.
The sunset, previously crimson, had deepened into a purple color, flooding over him. His strong, sculpted shoulders turned a bronze red under the light as he stood there. As she watched him bathed in the fiery glow, Talia blinked slowly. Even amidst the flames of the setting sun, he looked chilling; cold enough to make her shiver.
—
Chapter 70
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Varkas inhaled the fresh air impregnated with the scent of rain, then turned his head to look at her. A bleak shadow darkened his eyes, which were as silent as the dawn. Talia wondered what thoughts were rippling behind those glacial lake eyes. Was he worrying about the future that had become hopelessly entangled? Or was he belatedly regretting the decision he had made?
For someone who had sworn never to ask herself anything again, she found herself asking questions once more.
Of course… you didn’t want to marry because you loved Ayla, right? I knew it. You are someone who cannot burn with passion for anyone. Honestly, you probably didn’t care who the other person was. Just as you were able to play the role of a gentle fiancé for Ayla, you can also play the role of a suitable protector for me.
Talia rubbed the corner of her lips where Varkas’s had brushed hers, as if erasing the sensation of his touch. Talia Roem Gwirta was nothing more than one of the countless responsibilities he had been forced to assume. She would not let herself be fooled by a kindness thrown at her like a meaningless handout. Turning her back, she covered her head with the blanket.
At some point, she must have drifted off. The body that had been tense all day melted instantly under the effect of the strong liquor. She buried her face in the pillow and let her arms and legs sink heavily into the soft blankets. She floated weightlessly within her vague consciousness… until a stabbing sensation began to bite her knee.
Talia tossed and turned with discomfort as the pain became increasingly sharp. She forced her numb eyelids open. The blurry world was swallowed by total darkness. The lethargy pressing upon her body vanished in an instant. Terrified, she looked into the ink-like blackness. A sticky, suffocating darkness, without a single thread of light, choked her breath.
Gasping with difficulty, she brought her hands to her closing throat, and the dull pain that had started in her knee suddenly erupted like a flash of lightning. She grabbed her calf with both hands. She could feel the weakened muscles begin to spasm beneath her palms. A pain like a sharp blade stabbed deeply, and cold sweat ran down her back. Talia bit her lower lip and dug her nails into her convulsing leg.
At that moment, the sound of a flint striking pierced the silence; then, a line of fire erupted before her eyes. She snapped her head up. A small candle flickered dimly, illuminating Varkas’s pale silhouette. His expression hardened as he looked down at her bloodless face. He leaned over the bed.
Talia shrieked, by instinct:
“Don’t touch me!”
She slapped his hand away when he tried to check her leg and scrambled toward the edge of the bed. But she didn’t get far. He caught her. Varkas held her shoulders with a strong hand, keeping her still, and stretched his arm toward her calf, swollen from the nail marks.
Talia screamed as if boiling oil had been poured over her.
“No! Don’t touch me!”
“Stay still. I need to check the injury.”
“I said no! I said no!”
As she writhed so violently that she seemed to be on the verge of stopping breathing, he muttered something between his teeth—words she couldn’t understand—and pulled her upper body firmly against his. Holding her so she couldn’t shake free, he reached up and pulled the bell cord above the bed.
Moments later, the bedroom door burst open and dazed maids came running in. Varkas shouted:
“Bring a healer! Now!”
Chaos broke out. An elderly mage hurriedly entered the bridal chamber and cast a healing spell, while the maids lit candles throughout the room and burned calming incense near the bed. Even amidst the commotion, Varkas never loosened his grip. He kept her locked firmly in his arms.
Talia, sunk against his hard chest that was warm from the fever thumping loudly against her ear, looked around with terror. Every nerve in her body stood on end. What if someone lifted her skirt to check her leg? She curled her legs tightly and clung to the hem like a shield.
She didn’t know how long she remained like that. The disheveled mage soon held a bluish glass bottle in front of her face.
“Drink this. The pain will quickly subside.”
Talia looked at the bottle with narrow suspicion. If she drank that, she would definitely lose consciousness. Someone might lift her skirt while she slept. She pressed her lips together and turned her head the other way.
A long finger suddenly gripped her chin, forcing her to raise her head. The mouth of the bottle was pressed hard against her lips. Talia clenched her teeth and stood firm.
Then Varkas, his eyes frigid, brought the bottle to his own mouth. She barely had time to process what that meant before lips wet with the bitter herbal liquid covered hers.
Talia’s eyes widened. Varkas took her face in his hands, pressing her cheeks firmly, and pushed his tongue inside her parted lips. The bitter medicine flowed into her mouth. Talia clung to his thin shirt as if she were going to tear it to pieces. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Her throat narrowed as she swallowed the liquid pooling in her mouth, tightening around his tongue. Their tongues slid together slowly; unintentionally, hopelessly. A broken groan vibrated between them.
Did he give me poison?
Her throat burned as if it were on fire.
“Haa…”
Their lips remained joined for what seemed like an unnaturally long time before he finally withdrew. Talia stared up at him, forgetting for a moment even the pain in her leg. Varkas—with an expression as calm as ever—tilted the bottle again and emptied the rest of the medicine into his mouth.
Their lips met once more. Talia’s nails dug into his forearm. His tongue slid through her warm, slippery mouth, pushing the liquid down her throat bit by bit. Her throat moved, swallowing it hopelessly. Confusion, embarrassment, and a strange, unfamiliar sensation tightly curled her toes.
The medicine began to take effect; her vision spun. The warm saliva continued to slide down her throat. Even after the bitterness had faded, he kept moving, and that slow, sticky sliding made her doubt his intentions. Seized with panic, she beat against his chest, and the soft, persistent intruder finally withdrew.
Talia gasped for air, looking up at him. He looked exactly the same as always—serene, imperturbable—unlike her, who felt completely undone. The fixity of his expression only tangled her mind further. Had she imagined it all?
Her thoughts shattered when he wiped her wet lips with his thumb. The wet sound made her realize her lips were stained with the combined moisture of both of them. Talia hid her face under the blanket. A warm sigh fell upon her head.
“…Sleep now.”
He pressed her head against his chest. Talia stabilized her ragged breathing against that strong, throbbing warmth. Soon, the drug seeped through her body. Her vision darkened. Clinging tightly to his shirt, she whispered:
Don’t touch my legs while I sleep.
He must have heard her, because he stroked her back gently. The strength faded from her limbs. The darkness swallowed her. She sank into sleep like a stone falling into deep waters.
When she opened her eyes again, sunlight filled the room. Still heavy with sleep, she stared at the ceiling… then startled at a presence.
Varkas was standing by the window, dressing. The light streaming through the glass slid over his sculpted silhouette, soft and pale like carved stone. Fascinated, she watched him… until his silent gaze met hers.
Talia shrank back.
As if everything from the night before had been nothing more than a mirage, Varkas looked at her with a fresh, indecipherable expression.
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