The Forgotten Field

Varkas, who had been handing a bundle of parchment containing the identities of the dead to a priest, turned his head and looked at her.

Talia hurriedly lowered her gaze.

Under the summer sunlight, every detail of her appearance was laid bare. Suddenly, she felt unbearably shabby and could not bring herself to hold her head high.

"It appears the Second Imperial Princess requires immediate treatment. I would ask that the formal entry procedures be waived."

The magician from House Taren who had stopped before Varkas spoke politely.

When no answer came at once, Talia lifted her eyes again.

Varkas was staring directly at her, a faint crease etched between his brows.

Did it seem strange that a woman who used to cause an uproar whenever anyone touched her was sitting so quietly?

His narrowed eyes dissected her pale face.

Then his gaze slowly descended.

The cold look lingered briefly on the hand supporting her back and the one cradling the backs of her knees before moving lower, toward the limp calf hanging beneath her skirt.

Apparently spotting the dark reddish stain spreading across the bandages, the furrow between his brows deepened.

Immediately, a questioning look flew toward the magicians of House Taren.

Ignoring it, the magician continued smoothly.

"I'm certain His Majesty will understand if the Second Imperial Princess proceeds directly to her residence."

"Yes. Take the child away at once."

A clear voice suddenly answered in place of the silent Varkas.

Turning toward the speaker, Talia's face stiffened.

Leading a group of maids across the crowded square was Aila.

Stopping beside Varkas, she looked down at Talia with an expression of gentle concern.

"She has endured a difficult journey while already in poor health. It would be best for her to receive treatment and rest as soon as possible."

Talia clenched her teeth.

Humiliation surged through her at that warm, pitying gaze.

If she had been capable of moving even a finger, she would have gouged those eyes out without hesitation.

Whether she knew what was boiling inside her or not, Aila simply smiled softly and rested a hand upon Varkas's forearm.

"I shall explain everything properly to His Majesty."

Then she gracefully turned and urged Varkas forward.

"Come. We should go in now. His Majesty is waiting for us."

Only then did the man who had been standing motionless begin to move.

Talia watched his retreating figure with lingering eyes.

Then she slowly lowered her eyelids.

The magicians passed through the main palace and entered a vast garden overflowing with flowers.

Soon afterward, a magnificent building adorned with extravagant decorations swallowed her whole.

Talia felt as though she were being drawn into the entrails of some enormous monster.

Crossing a marble hall in moments, the magicians climbed a staircase and entered Senevier's study.

After passing several massive bookshelves lined with hundreds of volumes, a hidden passage concealed between columns revealed itself.

As though entirely familiar with the route, the magicians entered without hesitation.

Soon, Senevier's laboratory appeared before them.

Talia frowned at the overpowering scent of oils and medicinal herbs that muddled her thoughts.

"Lay her here."

Striding across the laboratory, one magician threw open a door beside a display cabinet.

Though she had visited this place many times, she had never once entered that room.

The man carrying her set her down on a bed positioned in the center.

Talia looked around uneasily.

The spotless room was filled with strange instruments she had never seen before.

After inspecting them, she turned her attention back to the two magicians.

They were arranging unfamiliar pieces of equipment across a table.

Is this how a calf feels when it enters a slaughterhouse?

Cold sweat soaked the back of her neck.

Had she not still been under the effects of magic, she would have been screaming.

"We'll examine the injury first."

One of the magicians took a seat near her legs.

Feeling her skirt being raised, Talia's body stiffened.

The man carefully removed the bandages before clicking his tongue.

"It's worse than I expected."

His icy fingers methodically examined her knee.

"The amateur attempt to set the bone may prove more troublesome than the injury itself. If we allow it to heal in this state, the nerves will become permanently damaged. You may never walk again."

"Human magicians truly are clumsy creatures..."

The magician muttered under his breath and picked up a small knife from the table.

"What choice do we have? We'll have to set it again."

A rough whimper escaped Talia's constricted throat.

Only then did the magician notice her deathly pale face.

Lowering the cloth covering his mouth, he curved his lips upward.

"There's no need to be so worried."

It seemed to be an attempt at reassurance.

Instead, Talia felt her blood run cold.

It looked less like a human smile and more like a fish imitating a human expression.

The man continued speaking.

"We won't be able to restore it to exactly the way it was before, but we'll at least make certain you can walk."

Talia struggled to move her lips.

Stop.

If it can never return to what it was before, then there is no reason to endure this.

She wanted to scream those words.

Only a ragged whine escaped instead.

The magician pulled the cloth back over his face.

"We should burn sleepgrass."

The other magician selected a bundle of dried herbs, placed a small brazier beside her head, and set them alight.

Talia immediately stopped breathing.

But she could not hold out for long.

The suffocating pressure forced her to inhale.

The moment she drew in the smoke, her vision blurred.

She strained her eyes, trying to tear through the pale haze spreading before her.

Then sleep claimed her like a blow to the head.

* * *

Raindrops fell across the lake.

She realized she was dreaming.

A scene from an old memory had unfolded before her eyes.

Fourteen-year-old Talia sat curled beneath a great ancient tree, glaring at the gray waters rippling beneath the rain as though they were her mortal enemy.

Then Varkas approached her.

He was drenched from head to toe.

"Is the game of hide-and-seek finally over?"

Talia glared at him viciously.

Apparently he had searched every corner of the Imperial Palace grounds.

His clothing and hair, ordinarily immaculate, were in complete disarray.

Yet her mood did not improve in the slightest.

Stretching out her hand, she scooped up a fistful of muddy earth and hurled it at him.

"Go away! I don't even want to look at you!"

An ugly stain spread across the velvet uniform embroidered with elaborate patterns.

Varkas did not so much as blink.

His indifferent reaction only infuriated her further.

Talia continued throwing clumps of mud.

"Get lost! Go back to Aila!"

"I would very much like to."

Letting out a short sigh, Varkas bent one knee beside her.

"Unfortunately, I'm tied here until Your Highness turns sixteen."

Talia glared at him, her face burning.

Pathetically enough, she felt tears threatening to spill.

To hide them, she narrowed her eyes and twisted her lips into a spiteful smile.

"The thought of seeing your face for another two years is horrifying. It makes me want to vomit."

"..."

"I hate you more than anyone in the world. You're disgusting. Revolting. Nauseating."

"Are you finished?"

"No."

She pointed at him accusingly.

"You smell like horses."

One of his eyebrows rose slightly.

Talia immediately lowered her gaze.

Varkas had spent part of his childhood in a monastery.

As a result, he possessed an almost obsessive devotion to cleanliness.

He always smelled faintly of fresh soap.

He knew that perfectly well himself.

He must also have known her accusation was nothing more than a childish attempt to pick a fight.

Yet instead of pointing that out, Varkas simply draped the coat he had been carrying over her shoulders.

Then he straightened.

"You may continue the rest of your insults at the annex palace."

His gaze swept over her face.

"Please stand up. Your lips have turned purple."