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."