Chapter 72
The maids quietly walked down the corridor.
Thalia followed behind them, placing her feet as carefully as possible.
By the time she barely reached the stairs with steps slower than a turtle, her back was soaked with sweat.
She looked down at the stairs with bleak eyes.
At that moment, Varkas strode into the mansion.
Forgetting even how to breathe, Thalia looked him over from head to toe.
Instead of the Roem Knights uniform, Varkas was wearing a black breastplate engraved with the crest of the Siarkan family, and a dark gray coat made of beast hide was loosely draped over his shoulders.
At the sight of him looking like a mounted warrior of the Khan people, who had once made all of the Roviden continent tremble in fear, her heart tightened.
He climbed the stairs with long strides and stopped before her.
Perhaps he had come in a hurry, because his usually neat hair was disheveled in a way it had never been before.
He bent toward her and drove down eyes like polished metal.
“How is your body?”
Thalia merely blinked blankly. Normally, she would have snapped coldly that he should mind his own business, but strangely, the tip of her tongue stuck dryly.
Only after quite some time did she barely manage to spit out one word.
“…I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed. He seemed suspicious of her meek answer.
Varkas, who had been staring intently at her face, removed his glove and touched her forehead. Thalia reflexively struck that hand away.
After the sharp sound, a fierce silence settled.
She held her stinging fingers and watched his mood.
He did not look particularly displeased. No. She was not sure. Had she ever properly read his expression even once?
Thalia lowered her eyes and mumbled in a tightly locked voice.
“You s-startled me by touching me suddenly.”
At that moment, long white fingers once again invaded her field of vision.
Thalia shrank her neck. But he did not allow her to push his hand away twice.
Varkas ultimately brushed her forehead lightly, then fastened the knot of her cloak tightly up to her neck. Then, without even giving her a chance to refuse, he lifted her easily in both arms and spoke bluntly.
“From now on, you will have to get used to me touching you.”
Thalia opened her eyes wide. Her heart trembled.
What did he mean by that?
No. No. Do not expect anything.
He was only trying to take care of a pitiful cripple. As she hurriedly crushed the lingering attachment growing like weeds, Varkas adjusted her into a more comfortable position and slowly descended the stairs.
Afraid that she might fall, Thalia wrapped her arms around his neck. Varkas wrapped one hand around her back and moved carefully.
A short while later, the scene of a garden filled with unfamiliar men unfolded before her eyes.
Thalia looked them over with a puzzled expression. At a glance, they did not seem to be soldiers belonging to the Roem Knights.
Each of the men carried a long poleaxe on his back, and over their dark armor, they wore loose coat-like outerwear.
One of them walked forward before Varkas.
“Is this the lady who will become the future Grand Duchess?”
Thalia examined the man carefully. He was a young man with dark wheat-colored skin as if sunburned, black-brown hair, and black eyes.
He looked at her with curiosity, when only her eyes barely showed outside her cloak, then bowed politely.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness the Princess. I am Tyrone El Drakan.”
Only after hearing that unfamiliar-sounding name did Thalia realize that the people lined up before her were easterners.
It seemed that retainers of the Siarkan family had come to assist him.
She pulled down the fabric covering her face to return the greeting. However, because of Varkas’s interference, Thalia’s attempt came to nothing.
Varkas pulled the hood over her head and passed the man, speaking in an indifferent tone.
“We will depart soon, so prepare the horses.”
“Will it be all right not to stop by the Imperial Palace?”
“The handover of the knight order has already been completed. There is no reason to stay here any longer.”
After replying firmly, Varkas sent a cold gaze to the attendant standing blankly beside the carriage.
“What are you doing not opening the door?”
The attendant, who had been standing there with a dazed expression, immediately opened the carriage door.
Varkas stepped lightly inside and set her down on the seat covered with thick cushions. Then, arranging her clothes with careful movements, he said,
“We plan to travel without stopping for several hours. If your body feels uncomfortable, signal the coachman.”
Thalia looked up at him with confused eyes.
She had no way of knowing why he was in such a hurry. Was someone chasing them?
The faces of Gareth and Ayla flashed into her mind.
Could the two of them be plotting something?
Ayla’s venomous voice, saying that she would regret it, flickered in her ears.
Thalia bit her lip. Plotting schemes had always been her role. But now their positions had been reversed.
If Ayla loved Varkas even half as much as she did, she would do anything to win him back.
Perhaps she would send assailants to attack them. Maybe Varkas was worried about such a situation too…
“Your Highness.”
As if he had noticed her mind turning in a complicated way, he lifted her chin and met her eyes.
“Did I not tell you before? You do not need to think about anything.”
His low, beautiful voice echoed in her mind as if casting hypnosis.
Thalia wore a bewildered expression.
With what intention was he saying such a thing? Was he trying to block her in advance so she could not cause trouble?
Or, or…
She quickly put a stop to the thoughts trying to stretch in the wrong direction.
This was the man who had turned her mind into a mess and then left as if nothing had happened.
The man who had thrown her into an unfamiliar place and had not shown even the tip of his nose for a week.
The ditch carved inside her was too deep for her to hold empty hope over a few meaningful words.
Thalia pushed his hand away.
“…Don’t say strange things. If we are leaving, then hurry up and set off.”
Even at her blunt words, he did not move at all.
A gaze whose meaning she could not measure scratched at her forehead. Thalia moistened her dry lips. Only when her throat had nearly burned dry did he slowly straighten himself and step outside the carriage.
Only after hearing the door close did Thalia release the breath she had been holding.
As she slowly pressed herself close to the carriage wall, she saw Varkas conversing with the easterners beyond the window frame.
Among the men with dark hair and pale wheat-colored skin, he stood out like a foreigner. She thought that perhaps he might not be so different after all.
He had left his homeland at a young age and spent most of his years in the Imperial Palace. To him, the East must also be an unfamiliar place.
Suddenly, the image of a young boy sent alone to a foreign land formed in her mind. That image changed into her own appearance when she had first come to the Imperial Palace.
Had six-year-old Varkas been lonely like her too? Had he felt helpless and suffocated, as if he had entered the belly of a monster?
As she was blankly thinking that, the carriage that had been standing still began to move. Thalia watched the unfamiliar yet familiar scenery flow past like a river.
Suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped her. Was she really in a position to worry about the man who would rule the East?
From now on, she would go to a strange land completely alone. She was about to begin a new life in a place where there was no one to rely on, yet she was worrying about something else…
Then again, when did I ever have anywhere to rely on?
Thalia curled up in the corner of the carriage and buried her face in her knees.
The Imperial Palace had been no different in being a place where she had nowhere to stand.
To Senevier, she was nothing more than a useful tool.
To the Emperor, she was an uncomfortable existence that constantly reminded him of a past mistake, and to her half-siblings, she was no different from a filthy stain that had to be removed someday.
Suddenly, she wondered.
What, exactly, will I become in the East?
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