“Are you not going to take it?”
Her face burned.
If she stubbornly refused, she felt as though he would see right through her thoughts.
With trembling hands, she snatched the bottle.
“I-I'll drink it.”
As if to prove a point, she pulled out the cork and poured the concentrated herbal extract into her mouth.
The bitter liquid burned its way down her throat.
Talia's eyes filled with tears as she coughed weakly.
It was the bitterest medicine she had ever tasted.
“What kind of medicine is this?”
“Medicine prepared by the healers of House Siorcan.”
Pouring her a cup of apple wine from the shelf, he handed it to her.
“From now on, the healer here will be responsible for your care.”
Grabbing the cup and hurriedly drinking the sweet liquid, Talia glared at him in disbelief.
“According to whose wishes? I already have my own healer. A high-ranking mage trained by House Taren has taken care of me all this time—”
“That healer does little besides burning sleeping herbs and casting recovery magic. At that rate, your condition will never improve.”
Talia's eyes sharpened.
The healer currently attending her had been personally selected by Senevier.
Did he really think some tribal shaman from the Kan people, who probably knew nothing but ancient techniques, could compare to a mage of House Taren?
Or did he have some other scheme?
Watching him suspiciously, Talia coldly shot back,
“No. I'll receive treatment from the healer Mother assigned to me. How can I trust the people here? Everyone here obviously hates me...”
His expression hardened.
“Why do you think that?”
“You think I'm stupid? House Siorcan supports the Crown Prince. I know perfectly well they won't welcome the woman who pushed Aila aside and married you.”
Talia sneered.
“For all I know, they might try poisoning me.”
“Talia Roem Siorcan.”
His gentle voice scraped chillingly against her ears.
Talia shrank back.
More than the unfamiliar surname attached to her name, the warning contained in his low voice froze her thoughts.
He added stiffly,
“I've decided to tolerate almost all of your complaints if I can. But don't cross the line.”
His cold tone instantly ignited her temper.
She hurled the cup in her hand at him.
“Who asked you to tolerate my complaints?”
Sticky apple wine drenched his chest.
Terrible silence fell over the room.
Exhaling deeply, Varkas slowly rose to his feet.
Startled, Talia scrambled into the corner of the bed.
Watching her quietly, [N O V E L I G H T] Varkas shook his head.
“Why do something that frightens you this much?”
Talia's face reddened with humiliation.
Brushing away the liquid running down his chest, he calmly continued,
“No matter how angry you become, this matter won't change. Starting tomorrow, a new healer will examine your condition.”
“I told you I don't want that!”
Pretending not to hear, he walked toward the bedroom door.
Talia raised her voice at his back.
“You liar! You said I'm the highest person in this castle! Then why do you get to decide everything?”
“Perhaps not everyone else, but you should listen to your husband.”
Stopping by the door, Varkas looked back at her and spoke as though soothing a stubborn child.
“I listen to you well enough, don't I?”
Then, as though making a point, he removed the loose outer robe and draped it over one arm.
Talia stared at him blankly.
Pulling on the doorknob, he calmly added,
“Now go to sleep. It will take several days of proper rest for the fatigue from your journey to fade.”
Coming to her senses too late, Talia threw a pillow at him.
But he had already left.
Looking helplessly at the lump of fabric rolling across the floor, she slowly collapsed onto the bed.
Why was it?
For some reason, it felt as though she, not he, had become the one suffering because of this marriage.
And that thought made her feel unfairly wronged.
* * *
The next morning, Talia awoke feeling considerably refreshed.
Perhaps sleeping nearly the entire day had helped, because her legs hurt less than usual.
Rubbing her stiff eyes, she rose from the bed and gazed at the brilliantly blue sky outside the window before ringing the bell beside the bed.
A short while later, a stern-looking middle-aged woman entered together with a much younger maid.
“Good morning, Your Highness. Forgive us for greeting you so late.”
The older woman spoke first.
“My name is Areta. I oversee the maids of this castle. And this is Brisa. She will serve as Your Highness's personal maid from now on.”
When the woman tugged at the arm of the younger maid, who stood frozen in a daze, the girl named Brisa hurriedly bowed her head.