Climbing into the carriage, he rummaged through a small box in the corner.
“The pain is severe, isn't it? The healing mage prepared a painkiller. If you drink this—”
“Why haven't I received healing magic?”
The abrupt question made him freeze.
Turning his head, he found Talia clutching the bedding and staring at him suspiciously.
“Did my brother order you not to treat me?”
“N-No, that isn't it.”
He hurriedly waved both hands.
“The healing mage set the bones and closed part of the wounds as an emergency measure, but... Your Highness's injuries were far too severe to heal all at once. He believed the best outcome would come from placing you in the care of a specialist healer at the Imperial Palace...”
Talia glared distrustfully at the fumbling explanation.
Then she lowered her eyes to her leg.
Fragments of memory surfaced.
The enormous boulder crushing her knee and thigh.
Yes.
If the wound had been healed improperly, she might have lost the use of the leg forever.
Though she reluctantly acknowledged the logic, her irritation remained.
“So you're telling me I have to stay like this until we reach the palace?”
“I know it is difficult, but please endure it a little longer. We intend to travel to Gillian by the fastest route possible.”
Talia narrowed her eyes at him before turning toward the window.
Across the vast plains bathed in pale sunlight, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» a long procession of knights stretched into the distance.
Without realizing it, her gaze searched for ash-blond hair among them.
The moment she noticed herself doing it, disgust surged through her.
She jerked the curtain shut.
Even that brief movement left her exhausted.
“I'm surprised my brother agreed to return to the palace.”
“The wyvern attack caused a considerable number of deaths. Faced with the argument that we must return immediately to conduct the funerals, I imagine His Highness could hardly oppose it openly.”
The unexpected note of cynicism in his voice made her look back in surprise.
Only then did the knight realize how sarcastic he had sounded.
He quickly changed the subject.
“More importantly, your complexion is poor. Please take the medicine first.”
He extended the vial cap toward her.
Talia stared at it for a moment.
Then she waved a dismissive hand.
“I don't need it. Take it away. I want to rest.”
“...If you cannot trust me, I can summon Sir Siorcan.”
Talia, who had been lowering herself onto the bedding, froze.
It felt as though someone had struck her without warning.
Her heart dropped violently.
Covering that reaction with a cold sneer, she replied,
“Do I look like I trust that man?”
“But Your Highness seems to—”
“I trust no one.”
Her sharp interruption cut him off.
Then, staring directly into his stubborn face, she added with deliberate emphasis,
“Especially him.”
“...”
“So stop speaking out of turn and get out.”
The knight opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something more.
Instead, he released a small sigh and left.
A short while later, the carriage began moving again.