The Forgotten Field

The days when she had gathered every word that fell from his lips like precious jewels and turned them over in her mind again and again came back to her.

Even words that had pierced her like daggers had been pressed against her heart and revisited countless times.

But she was tired of pain now.

She was tired of assigning special meaning to his every insignificant word and action only to end up disappointed.

She was no longer a foolish adolescent girl.

And she had thoroughly learned that Talia Roem Gwirta meant absolutely nothing to him.

Fighting desperately not to cling to the strong arms that carefully lifted her, she ruthlessly cut down the tiny shoots of hope trying to grow once more.

The reason he treated her this way was simple.

Responsibility.

She had spent more than ten years observing him, analyzing him, dissecting him hundreds of times inside her own head.

She knew exactly how he worked.

Regardless of how sick and tired he was of Talia Roem Gwirta, she was still someone under his protection.

Not as important as Gareth or Aila, perhaps, but neither was she someone he could simply leave broken and ruined.

He was a man who lived to fulfill his duties.

And since he had failed in one of those duties, it was only natural that he would feel guilty.

“I'll have a meal brought in.”

Varkas's voice sounded above her as he laid her down on the bed inside the dim tent.

Lost in thought, Talia lowered her eyes to her leg.

The effects of the medicine were already beginning to fade.

A sharp tingling sensation was spreading from her shin all the way up to her pelvis.

“Forget the food. Just light the incense.”

“After you've eaten.”

His answer came immediately.

Firm.

Talia forced her hazy eyes to focus and glared at him.

But Varkas had already turned away and was giving instructions to one of his attendants.

She wanted to throw a pillow at that infuriating back.

Unfortunately, her limbs felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton.

Eventually she gave up on her anger and buried her face in blankets scented with cedarwood and mint leaves.

A short while later, Varkas returned carrying a bowl of porridge.

Talia reluctantly picked up a spoon.

The act of putting anything into her stomach felt exhausting.

But if she didn't at least pretend to eat, this stubborn man would never permit the incense to be lit.

Unable to endure the steadily worsening pain, she forced several spoonfuls of the bluish-green mixture packed with herbs into her mouth.

“Happy now?”

She dropped the half-empty bowl down as though throwing it.

Standing nearby like a prison warden supervising a prisoner, Varkas inspected the bowl as though conducting an examination.

Talia added irritably,

“I ate it. What more do you want from me?”

Cold sweat had already begun forming on her face from the pain.

Varkas studied her for a moment.

Then he turned and instructed a servant to bring the censer.

Once more, pale smoke crept through her mind.

Feeling the pain gradually subside, Talia allowed her body to go limp.

It felt as though she were floating inside a cold cloud.

Even the sharp presence of the man who constantly scraped against her nerves began fading little by little.

How much time passed while she drifted in that pleasant lethargy?

Eventually, an unwelcome shadow entered her blurred vision.

Talia focused her unfocused eyes and looked more closely.

A graceful feminine silhouette stood against the backdrop of the setting sun.

Only after a brief delay did she recognize the figure.

Her noble half-sister.

Talia examined Aila's face the way one might examine an ornament displayed inside a cabinet.

Something unpleasant must have happened.

A faint crack had appeared in the otherwise flawless features that resembled carefully crafted porcelain.

Curiosity stirred within her.

Aila rarely lost her composure, no matter what Talia did to torment her.

What could possibly have put such an expression on her face?

“I know you feel responsible for what happened. However, you are my fiancé. Continuing to keep that child in your quarters is inappropriate—”

Aila's gentle voice penetrated Talia's muffled hearing, as though traveling through water.

Talia frowned.

The content mattered less than the voice itself.

Even when angry, did this woman always sound so elegant?

For Talia, who could only feel satisfied after vomiting every last fragment of emotion out into the open, such restraint was unimaginable.

Perhaps that was one reason she hated Aila so much.

The fact that this woman—possessing virtues Talia could never imitate—was her half-sister felt unbearable.

Had she not spent her entire life being compared to Aila, perhaps she might have hated her less.

Aila continued.

“If you're worried about leaving her alone, then send her to my residence. Then there would be no need for you to concern yourself with her any longer—”

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

A dry voice carrying unmistakable fatigue cut her off.

Talia shifted her eyes toward Varkas.

He was standing with one shoulder leaning against a tent pillar.

That alone was strange.

Varkas almost always maintained perfect posture.

Seeing him support himself against something like that was exceptionally rare.

Had he remained here the entire time while she inhaled the incense?

If so, it was remarkable that he was still standing upright.

She had barely been capable of keeping her eyes open.

“Are you comparing me to some insignificant animal?”

Aila's voice sharpened.

Talia focused harder.

She wanted to see Aila's expression.

But Varkas straightened, and his broad shoulders blocked her view.

His cold voice echoed through the tent.

“If Her Highness the Second Imperial Princess stays in your residence, it's obvious what would happen.”

A low sigh escaped him.

Then he added in a faintly cynical tone,

“Or would you like to see every one of your beloved maids lose their heads?”

Aila fell silent.

For a moment she seemed unable to answer.

Talia stared blankly at Varkas's back, half-hidden in shadow.

...So he really had been watching her.

Keeping her nearby so she couldn't cause any more trouble.

She had never expected anything.

Therefore she shouldn't have been disappointed.

Then why did it hurt again?

Disgusted with herself, she closed her eyes.

The moment she let go of the fragile thread of consciousness she had been clinging to, the irritating voices around her faded almost instantly.

It felt like sinking into deep water.

With willing acceptance, she allowed herself to descend into unconsciousness.

* * *

The suffocating heat continued for days.

For people forced to travel while transporting dozens of corpses, it was nothing short of a disaster.

To prevent decomposition, purifying salts and dried herbs had been packed into the body cavities of the dead.

Myrrh and fragrant oils had been applied to their gray, faded skin.

Yet as the days passed, strange odors still began leaking from the coffins.

Naturally, the faces of those marching alongside them grew increasingly grim.

Leaning against the carriage window and watching the procession, Talia suddenly remembered her wish when they had first departed the Imperial Palace.

She had prayed that the procession would lead straight into hell.

Had God answered her prayer?

Or was this punishment instead?

She was absently rubbing her aching knee when the sound of a whistle echoed from somewhere ahead.

Talia narrowed her eyes against the brightness and looked beyond the hill.

Below the gently sloping rise, beneath the fierce glare of the sun, stood towering gray walls.

The miserable, bleak journey that had seemed as though it would never end had finally reached its destination.