Varkas brushed his thumb over her lips, then rested the bridge of his straight nose against her temple.
"On that day, I'll keep the room dark."
Resting her shoulder against his broad chest, Talia let her eyes wander before slowly nodding.
He cupped the tip °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° of her chin and quietly searched her eyes.
Just as an inexplicable sense of shame made her want to run away, Varkas lowered his lips once more. This time it was a light kiss, like a bird rubbing its beak against another.
That featherlight touch crumbled something deep inside her heart. As if denying it, Talia squeezed her eyes shut.
* * *
After that day, Talia naturally began staying in his bedchamber. She justified it by claiming she needed to keep an eye on the healer she still didn't trust.
Yet even after his treatments were over, she never left the room.
Whenever he asked her to feed him his medicine, she would pretend to give in reluctantly, lingering until, somehow or another, she ended up falling asleep in his bed.
Barely a month had passed since she had caused a scene, insisting that she would rather die than stop sleeping in her own room.
She was disgusted with herself, yet Talia dragged every excuse she could find into service to justify her actions.
This is only temporary.
He's injured, and I simply can't bring myself to abandon him while he's hurt. That's all. I'm only compromising for now.
Once Varkas had fully recovered, she intended to retreat beyond the line she had drawn between them.
Which was precisely why her anger toward him for refusing to take proper care of himself was entirely justified. The slower his recovery, the longer this ambiguous state of affairs would continue.
Having stewed over it all day, Talia finally confronted him the moment he returned to his room late that evening.
"You have no right to lecture me about my health."
Varkas, who had just stepped inside, looked at her in puzzlement.
Throwing aside the book resting on her lap as though hurling it away, Talia jumped down from his bed and raised her voice.
"You're working like an ox every single day in that condition! You even had a fever before dawn..."
"My body was perfectly fine."
Removing his coat, Varkas answered calmly.
Talia narrowed her eyes.
"No. You were hotter than usual."
"If that was the case, it probably wasn't because of a fever."
She stared blankly for a moment before her face turned scarlet.
She couldn't understand how he could say something like that without changing his expression in the slightest. It seemed the very concept of embarrassment simply didn't exist for him.
Grinding her teeth, Talia said,
"The poison from that monster is still in your body. There's no way you're fine. You need proper rest until it's completely neutralized."
"I've already been finishing work earlier than usual lately."
Replying in the same emotionless tone, Varkas unfastened his sword belt and placed it on the stand.
Talia let out a hollow laugh.
Earlier that day, after pressing the head butler for answers, she had finally learned what his daily schedule actually looked like.
It bordered on torture.
She doubted even the most ascetic monk could live like that.
Every morning, Varkas rose before sunrise and headed straight for the training grounds. After completing his martial practice, he made his way to the military headquarters, where he personally inspected the training status of every unit, recruitment reports, and even the management of military supplies before working through endless stacks of official documents.
Afterward, he reviewed petitions submitted from across the East, met with members of the City Council to discuss policy, and, from time to time, attended ceremonies held by the Grand Temple or meetings of the Noble Alliance.
It was difficult to believe a single person could accomplish that much in one day.
With mounting unease, she blurted out,
"Even a healthy person would die if they lived the way you do."
"I've been trained since I was eight years old to maintain this schedule. You won't become a widow because of me, so there's no need to worry."
At his indifferent reply, Talia clenched her fists.
Had he been completely healthy, she would have thrown a pillow directly into that infuriatingly impassive face.
"And how can you be so certain? Every person who dies from overwork thinks exactly the way you do. They all overestimate their own health until one day they simply collapse and never open their eyes again. Just wait. Keep living like this, and you'll be next."
"...Is that concern, or a curse?"
Still undoing the buttons of his doublet, Varkas turned toward her with an incredulous look.
Smiling viciously like a cornered cat with its fur standing on end, Talia asked,
"Which do you think it is?"
After narrowing his eyes, Varkas let out a quiet sigh and pulled off his shirt, tossing it over a nearby chair.