* * *
Contrary to her expectations, the journey continued peacefully.
Though nights thick and viscous as tar came and went, morning arrived each time without a single person ending up drenched in blood, and before the sun rose high overhead, they packed their belongings and resumed the march.
The schedule was delayed little by little as soldiers exhausted by the sweltering heat fell behind, but the pilgrimage itself proceeded without major disruption.
On the fifth day after leaving the imperial palace, the procession led by Gareth and his imperial guard arrived at the small northwestern city of Sortica, where they spent a night before continuing northward once more.
Throughout it all, Talia watched Senevier’s attendants with burning vigilance.
Though they pretended to be nauseatingly loyal, Talia never let go of her suspicion for even a moment.
They were merely waiting for the proper opportunity.
It was obvious something dreadful would happen soon enough.
Whenever Senevier involved herself in something, sinister schemes always followed like shadows.
If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after that.......
Soon, some horrific spectacle would unfold before their eyes.
Talia did not know whether she feared it or anticipated it.
Whenever she saw Varkas — so cold toward her — treating Aila with endless gentleness instead, she found herself wishing some terrible tragedy would occur immediately.
If the two of them were reduced to mangled corpses beyond recognition, she thought perhaps she would finally feel relieved.
Rather than seeing him standing at Aila’s side, it would be a hundred times better to see his corpse.
Yet once night deepened, suffocating fear would come crawling over her.
It made no difference how many hundreds of times she repeated to herself that it would not matter if a man like him died.
After trembling with anxiety all night, Talia burst from her tent before dawn had fully broken.
Relying on the faint gray light of early morning, she went searching for him.
Only after seeing Varkas alive and breathing with her own eyes did it feel as though she might finally be able to breathe again herself.
She hurried along a narrow path overgrown with thick brush before abruptly stopping at the sound of a horse snorting.
Pushing through the dense shrubs, she saw a gray stallion with a black mane cascading down its neck.
Leading the massive horse skillfully toward a spring, Varkas lowered himself onto one knee upon the ground.
Pulling lightly on the reins so the horse dipped its head toward the water, he scooped spring water up with his free hand and wet the stallion’s long, powerful neck.
Sunlight filtering through the thick leaves painted his hair a beautiful silver.
Watching the scene in silence, Talia soon closed her eyes in despair.
No matter how many times she tried to carve it out, her love for Varkas only continued to grow like a tumor, devouring her from within.
There was no visible path out of this swamp.
How could she rid herself of these feelings?
Leaning weakly against the trunk of a massive tree, Talia stared blankly up at the sky before slowly turning away.
Then she spotted Aila walking down the narrow trail and immediately hid herself behind the tree.
Perhaps she had come outside the moment she rose from bed. She wore only a single robe thrown carelessly over a thin dress, her long hair hanging loose over her shoulders.
She looked just as disheveled as Talia — perhaps even more so.
And yet despite that, Aila still appeared graceful and noble.
For a moment, Talia thought perhaps that woman possessed something flowing through her blood that she herself could never obtain, no matter what.
“So this is where you were.”
Cheeks tinged with a rosy warmth, Aila carefully approached him and sat atop a flat stone.
Varkas’s gaze settled upon her.
Unable to endure even that quiet look without delighting in it, Aila’s eyes curved softly as she carefully removed her shoes.
Then she dipped her feet into the spring water, lightly splashing droplets into the air.
The horse’s snorts, the sound of water splashing, and Aila’s bright laughter — cheerful as birdsong — melted together within the cold dawn air.
Talia crushed down the urge to leap out and seize her half-sister by the hair.
She also restrained the urge to tear apart the lips smiling toward him and rip out the tongue chirping merrily in his direction.
More than anything, she could not bear to witness Varkas trying to protect Aila.
At last, after enjoying the water long enough to satisfy herself, Aila stretched a hand toward him.
Instead of merely helping her to her feet, Varkas bent down and wiped her feet dry.
Then, as though he were some loyal servant, he carefully placed her shoes back onto her feet.
The sight stabbed into Talia’s heart like a dagger.
She turned and began to run.