“How disappointing this must be for you. You almost got the chance to be rid of the woman who's always been such a thorn in your side.”
At last, tears spilled over.
They ran down her cheeks.
Even his cold face became distorted behind the thin veil of moisture.
Varkas approached and bent down in front of her.
A cool glass bottle touched her lower lip.
“Drink it. You'll feel better.”
“I don't need it.”
“...”
“I don't need anything you give me anymore.”
Varkas lowered the bottle.
At that moment, the lamp dimmed, and deep shadows spread across his face.
It didn't matter.
She already knew what expression he was wearing.
Either the same indifferent look as always, or perhaps a faint mixture of exhaustion and irritation.
Turning her back on him, she closed her eyes.
The man watched her silently.
Then he left.
Listening to the fading footsteps, Talia lowered a hand and cautiously felt along her injured leg.
The rigid sensation was like touching a piece of wood.
A chill ran down her spine.
Cripple.
The word flashed through her mind.
She immediately forced it away.
Impossible.
Those were merely malicious rumors spread by people who hated her.
The Imperial Palace possessed countless talented healers.
And Mother undoubtedly knew many practitioners of forbidden magic as well.
They would fix her.
No matter the cost.
And when that day came, she would stand before everyone who had mocked her and display her flawless body for all to see.
Still clutching her throbbing knee, Talia eventually closed her eyes.
* * *
The magnificent pilgrimage procession that had departed from the Imperial Palace transformed into a grim funeral march.
The attendants of the Imperial Family exchanged their crimson surcoats for black robes.
Even the knights wore dark mourning drapery over their armor.
The wagons that had once carried priceless wine, silk, jewelry, and other treasures now transported thirty-four carefully prepared corpses.
At regular intervals, musicians played low funeral hymns.
Listening blankly to the mournful melody from inside her carriage, Talia felt the pain that had briefly subsided begin intensifying once more.
Reaching out blindly, she grabbed the incense burner.
The bronze vessel had gone cold.
Inside, only ashes remained.
Cursing under her breath, Talia struggled upright from the cushions.
Opening a compartment installed beneath her seat, she retrieved a fresh incense stick.
It had been made by drying and {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} compressing frostweed, moonflowers, mandrake leaves, and crimson shard blossoms into a solid bundle.
She placed it into the vessel and ignited it using a mana stone.
Pale smoke immediately began to rise.
As her thoughts slowly disappeared beneath a thick fog, Talia collapsed back onto the bedding.
Since the return procession had begun, she spent most of her time under the influence of painkillers.
When surrounded by the acrid smoke, tomorrow became today, and today became yesterday.
Through the haze she vaguely registered the occasional mage checking her condition or an Imperial Guard knight bringing food and pestering her to eat.
But their existence always remained near the surface of her awareness, never truly reaching her.
Only one person could drag her back into painful reality.
Varkas.
Looking up at the figure appearing in the doorway after the carriage had once again come to a stop, Talia narrowed her clouded eyes.
At some point, her carriage—which had originally traveled at the very rear of the procession—had been moved closer to the front and placed under the concentrated protection of the Commander of the Imperial Knights.
Perhaps he had decided she required direct supervision to ensure she caused no further trouble.
Entering the carriage, Varkas bent over her sprawled form.
Cool fingers brushed several strands of damp hair away from her sweat-soaked forehead.
“Use the incense sparingly. At this rate you'll develop a tolerance soon.”
“...”
Talia stared at his face as though examining a problem left unsolved for years.
The man remained silent, apparently waiting for a response.
At length, he released a faint sigh.
“We'll be making camp here tonight.”
The sun was setting.
The carriages had stopped.
Naturally they would be spending the night here.
She couldn't understand why he felt the need to explain something so obvious.
Wasn't he the man who remained silent even when words were actually necessary?