The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 71, 72
## Chapter 71
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
His dry gaze made the inside of her mouth turn completely arid. Talia bit her swollen lips with her fingertips and lowered her eyes. She had no idea what she was supposed to say. Her lips remained firmly closed as if she had been struck mute, her eyes moving helplessly… when a flat voice reached her.
—Your nanny is in the next room. Call her if you need anything.
Talia raised her head again. Varkas slid his arm into the sleeve of his shirt as he continued calmly:
—We are leaving for the East in a week. I will have the workers prepare, so pack anything you plan to take.
—So… so soon?
Her voice wavered with surprise. Varkas paused halfway through buttoning his shirt and turned his gaze back to her. A faint veil of haze floated over his eyes as he studied her face carefully.
—Do you have any reason to stay longer in the Imperial Palace?
Talia looked up at him with a wordless expression, then slowly shook her head. Varkas observed her for a moment and then approached the bed with firm, disciplined steps. Having his face suddenly so close made her heart shrink in on itself.
Her gaze drifted —without thinking— toward his lips. Between the slight opening, she could glimpse a trace of red. Those lips had been inside her. Had that been reality? Or a dream? That absurd thought crossed her mind, and at that very instant, her chin was lifted. His blue, transparent eyes filled her field of vision.
—Do you have sudden and severe pains like last night’s frequently?
Her heart, already shrunk, cracked with a sharp sound. Talia brushed his hand away with a rough slap. Being treated as a chronic invalid caused irritation to well up in her chest.
—I don’t know! How am I supposed to know?
—If there is a problem, then an additional treatment…
—Not even the mages of House Taren could fix it, so what the hell could you do?
Her rising anxiety raised the tone of her voice. His lips tightened firmly. That sharp line —those red lips— caught her attention again. But what mattered was not her leg. What mattered was that last night, those lips had destroyed her. So why was he acting as if her leg were the urgent problem?
Talia opened her dry lips.
—More importantly… last night…
Why did you do that to me? Was it really just to make me drink the medicine?
She held back before asking. Perhaps the touch of his lips had lasted only an instant. Perhaps her confused mind had distorted the memory into something else. She swallowed hard and looked up to observe his expression.
If he was curious about the words she had not dared to finish, he did not show it. Instead, he straightened up and spoke in the same flat tone.
—I have a healer waiting in the next room. If you feel unwell, call him immediately.
Is that all? Don’t you have anything else to say to me?
The unasked questions spun inside her mouth, but he continued speaking calmly.
—Until the day we depart, I will stay here at the palace.
Talia looked up at him as if she had received a blow to the head. A cool hand descended upon her forehead. The contact stung as if she had been touched with the edge of a blade. By instinct, she ducked her neck, and Varkas brushed the tangled hair away from her face… then withdrew his hand.
Standing with the window at his back, a shadow fell over his face.
—For the time being, you won’t see me. So focus on resting.
Talia’s mouth fell half-open in panic. She needed to say something, anything… but her throat closed and she made no sound. He turned slowly, took the coat hanging on the wall, and headed toward the door.
Talia watched his back cross the room, dazed and empty. He took the doorknob, then looked at her askance over his shoulder. His lips parted slightly, as if he intended to say something. But in the end, he said nothing at all and went out. The door closed with a click.
Talia stared blankly at the closed door, then lowered her feet to the floor. A sharp, throbbing pain shot up her bones. Ignoring the burning pain, she staggered toward the entrance and turned the knob. But Varkas was already gone… downstairs, probably. The hallway was in silence.
She closed the door again and returned to the bed. The only trace he had left behind was the neatly folded ceremonial uniform. She took the garment and pressed her face against the soft fabric. Instead of mint, only a heavy scent of roses filled her nose. He had held her all night, so naturally, the maids had covered the ceremonial garments with layer after layer of scented oil while cleaning them.
She placed the garment over her shoulders and lay down on the cold bed. She remembered his wide chest, wrapping her trembling body so securely while she twisted in pain. It must have been a terrible night for him: having to care for a patient until dawn. What man would welcome such a miserable first night?
Talia bit her trembling lip hard. This marriage had been accepted out of petty revenge in the first place. She should be glad she had managed to make him sick of her from the very first night. Trying to calm her shattered insides, she raised her eyes toward the bright glass window. The sunlight streamed through the transparent panel.
Suddenly, it hit her: this was her first morning as Talia Roem Shearkan.
Talia murmured faintly:
—How… how is my life going to be from now on…?
By the time she finished preparing, it was only a few days before their departure for the East. Dragged to the washroom by the maids since early in the morning, Talia looked out the window with weariness.
More than twenty wagons filled the courtyard, piled with rolls of silk wrapped in linen, dwarf handicraft ornaments, dresses woven by elves, and chests filled with precious jewels. Half were gifts from the palace. The other half were things Talia had spent years obsessively gathering.
At one time, she had been frantic —desperate— to obtain rare dresses and jewels. She had wanted Varkas to regret his engagement to Ayla upon seeing her eclipse anyone. But now, the jewels and clothing felt insignificant. She would never be as elegant as Ayla nor as beautiful as Senebier. No amount of adornment could hide the pitiful reality of her body.
Talia sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her aching knee. The painkiller she had taken at dawn had already lost its effect; the pain was returning again. She lit a new incense candle in the brazier, but a knock sounded at the door.
—Your Highness, Lord Shearkan has arrived.
The fog over her senses cleared instantly. Talia hurriedly set down the incense and stood up. When she opened the door, she saw the long line of maids lined up against the wall. Talia scanned them.
—…Where is my nanny?
—She has already boarded the carriage, Your Highness.
Talia exhaled a silent sigh of relief. She had feared her nanny would insist on returning to the palace instead of accompanying her.
—Wait just a moment. I will come out right away.
She turned to take her cloak, but the head maid stepped forward quickly.
—Lord Shearkan asked me to deliver this to you.
Talia looked down at the garment the maid offered her, frowning. It was an oversized hooded cloak, long and loose enough to cover her entire body. Without a doubt, it was meant to hide her limp.
Heat ignited her ears from the humiliation, but she put it on without complaining. The long fabric fell to the tips of her feet, as if she had thrown a curtain over herself. She smoothed the surface of the cloak and then raised her chin toward the maids.
—…Let’s go.
—
## Chapter 72
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
The maids walked silently down the hallway. Talia followed behind them, settling her feet as cautiously as she could. By the time she finally reached the stairs with a pace slower than a tortoise’s, her back was drenched in sweat. She looked down at the steps with a desolate expression.
Just then, she saw Varkas stride into the mansion. Talia forgot how to breathe as she swept her eyes over him from head to toe. Instead of the uniform of the Knights of Roem, Varkas wore a black breastplate engraved with the Sigurd family crest, and over his shoulders hung a loose coat of dark ash-colored beast fur. The sight —reminiscent of one of the Khan nomadic warriors who had once terrorized the entire continent of Robiden— made her heart tighten.
He climbed the stairs with long strides and stopped in front of her. Perhaps he had come in a hurry, as the hair he always kept neatly arranged was messier than usual. He leaned toward her, fixing eyes that looked like polished steel upon her.
—Do you feel a bit better?
Talia only blinked with a blank mind. Under normal conditions, she would have snapped at him to mind his own business, but strangely, her tongue felt dry and tied. Only after a long moment did she manage to articulate a word.
—…Fine.
He narrowed his gaze, as if finding her submissive response suspicious. Varkas stared intently at her face, then took off his glove and reached out his hand to touch her forehead. Talia, by reflex, brushed his hand away with a slap. A sharp slapping sound echoed, followed by a fierce silence. She rubbed her aching fingers, looking up at him nervously.
He did not seem particularly offended. No… she actually couldn’t tell. Had she been able, even once, to read his expression correctly? Lowering her eyes, Talia murmured with a completely tense voice:
—You… you startled me, touching me out of nowhere.
Just then, those long, white fingers invaded her vision again. Talia ducked her neck. But this time, he did not allow her to brush his hand away. Varkas lightly stroked her forehead, then pulled the tie of her cloak firmly up to her neck so that no opening remained. Before she could even form a protest, he suddenly lifted her into his arms and said gruffly:
—From now on, you will have to get used to me touching you.
Talia’s eyes opened wide. Her heart trembled violently. What did he mean by that? No. No. Don’t expect anything. He was only taking care of a cripple worthy of pity. She crushed the hope that sprouted like a weed in her chest, but Varkas adjusted his grip into a more comfortable position and began to descend the stairs slowly.
Fearful of falling, Talia wrapped her arms around his neck. Varkas placed a hand around her back and stepped carefully. After a moment, the landscape of the garden —filled with unfamiliar men— stretched out before her eyes.
Talia examined them with a bewildered expression. They certainly did not look like soldiers of the Knights of Roem. Each man carried a long halberd fastened to his back, and over their dark armor they wore loose coats like tunics. One of them stepped forward.
—Is she the one who will become our future Grand Duchess?
Talia scanned the man cautiously. He was a young man with olive skin, tanned by the sun, dark brown hair, and black eyes. He studied her —with only her eyes visible beneath the cloak— with curiosity before bowing respectfully.
—It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am Tyron El Drakan.
Only upon hearing that unfamiliar-sounding name did Talia realize that the men lined up before her were Easterners. They must be vassals of the Sigurd family who had come to accompany him. She tried to pull the cloak aside to respond properly to his greeting, but Varkas intervened. Placing the hood over her head, he passed right by the man and spoke in a distant tone.
—We are leaving soon. Prepare the horses.
—Is it alright not to stop by the Imperial Palace?
—The transfer to the Knights has already been completed. There is no reason to remain here.
After replying firmly, Varkas cast a cold glance at the servant who was standing with folded arms by the carriage.
—What are you doing? Open the door.
The dazed servant opened it immediately. Varkas climbed inside and settled her into the soft seat. With careful movements, he adjusted her clothes.
—We will travel for several hours without stopping. If you feel unwell, give a signal to the coachman.
Talia looked up at him with confused eyes. She had no idea why he was in such a hurry. Was someone chasing them?
The faces of Gareth and Ayla crossed her mind. Could the two of them be plotting something? Ayla’s venomous voice (You will regret this) echoed in her ears. Talia bit her lip. Intrigue had always been her role. But now their positions had been reversed. If Ayla loved Varkas even half as much as she loved him, she would do anything to get him back. She might even send raiders after them. Perhaps Varkas was also worried about that…
—Your Highness.
Noticing the chaos in her thoughts, he lifted her chin to force her to look into his eyes.
—I told you before. You don’t need to think about anything.
His deep, low voice echoed in her mind like a hypnotic spell. Talia looked at him bewildered. What did he mean by that? Was he trying to prevent her from causing trouble before she could do it? Or… or…
She cut off her own thoughts before they could wander toward somewhere foolish. He was the man who had thrown her into an unfamiliar place and disappeared without a trace for a week. The man who scrambled her mind and then acted as if nothing had happened. Her scars were too deep to cling to hope over a few words that sounded meaningful. Talia brushed his hand away.
—Stop saying strange things. If we are leaving, hurry up and let’s go.
Even her sharp tone failed to make him move. His unreadable gaze scraped her forehead. Talia moistened her dry lips. Only when she felt her throat parched did he finally straighten up and step out of the carriage. When the door closed, she released the air she had been holding in.
Pressing herself against the carriage wall, she peeked out the window. Varkas was talking to the men from the East. Among those dark-haired, olive-skinned men, he stood out like a foreigner. But she wondered… maybe he wasn’t so different from them. He had left his homeland at a young age and spent almost his entire life in the Imperial Palace. The East must be a strange land even for him.
Suddenly, she imagined a young boy sent alone to a distant land… only for that image to transform into the picture of her own arrival at the Palace. Had Varkas felt lonely too at six years old? Had he felt suffocated, as if he had been swallowed by a monster?
While she was lost in her thoughts, the carriage began to move. Talia watched the familiar yet alien landscape pass by like water. A faint, bitter laugh escaped her.
And here I am… worrying about the man who will rule the East.
Soon she would enter a strange land alone. She would have to start a new life with no one to rely on… and yet, she was worrying about the wrong things…
Well, it’s not like I’ve ever had anyone to rely on anyway.
Curling up in the corner, Talia buried her face in her knees. The Imperial Palace had been no different. To Senebier, she was nothing more than a useful tool. To the Emperor, a constant reminder of past mistakes. To her half-siblings, an uncomfortable stain that had to be erased one day.
She suddenly wondered: what would she become in the East?
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