14.
— — —
“Aren’t you going to speak with him?”
The ladies-in-waiting at my side urged me on, their voices thin with frustration at my habit of watching from a distance. They were clearly desperate to see Varkas up close; some even cast glances his way that went beyond mere admiration, bordering on a hungry yearning.
Aila chose to ignore their presumptuous gazes. It was a luxury she could afford, knowing Varkas would never cast so much as a glance toward another woman.
‘Of course, he has never once directed a passionate look my way, either…’
She let out a bitter laugh.
From the beginning, Varkas had lacked the capacity for such emotions. Brought into the Imperial Palace at a young age, he had been subjected to training that bordered on brainwashing by fanatical, fundamentalist priests, all to ensure he would become a loyal subject of the Empire. In the process, he had been hollowed out, losing almost every trace of his inner self.
Though her mother had struggled desperately to protect him once she discovered how harshly the son of the Grand Duke Siorcan was being disciplined, the damage was done. The boy had lost not only his capacity for joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure, but also the most basic desires a human being should possess.
Aila’s expression darkened as she recalled their first meeting. She remembered how terrified she had been of that child, his eyes as vacant as an insect’s molt.
Varkas had been like a doll carved from hardened wax. He was so silent he rarely spoke more than two sentences a day, and he would neither eat nor sleep unless explicitly instructed. It was as if, having had his desires suppressed for so long, he had become incapable of feeling even the primal urges of hunger or fatigue.
Compared to those days, the Varkas of now seemed far more human.
‘Perhaps, things will continue to improve as time goes on…’
She sent a hopeful gaze toward her fiancé. She had resolved several times not to expect too much, yet her heart fluttered stubbornly every time she looked at him.
The beautiful boy who had stood faithfully by her mother’s side… how could she not yearn for the man he had grown into? He was the most perfect man in the entire Roem Empire.
She knew that countless women had suffered the bitter agony of unrequited love for him, but Aila believed she stood on firmer ground. This was a marriage of political alliance, yes, but she would soon be his wife. One day, she would bear his successor.
If she poured her affection into him through the long years they spent together, wouldn’t his frozen heart eventually melt?
Clinging to this hope, Aila approached him. Sensing her presence, Varkas, who had been standing with his back to the light, turned his head.
In an instant, Aila felt her spine freeze. His expression was cold, chilling—as if he were mocking every one of her dreams.
The man turned his head fully toward her, his voice a flat, dead monotone.
“Is there something you need?”
She pulled herself together, plastering a bright smile on her lips.
“I came out because I was curious if the preparations for the journey were going well.”
“They are nearly finished.”
He replied in a flat tone, his hand absently stroking the horse’s sturdy neck.
“I am concerned the preparations have taken longer than expected. It will be a grueling journey, given how the weather has turned.”
“It cannot be helped. Gareth’s demands derailed the schedule.”
Aila spoke carefully, watching for her fiancé’s reaction. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her face burning with the shame of her younger brother’s immaturity.
Not content with forcing his way into the trip, Gareth acted as if he were determined to transplant the entire Crown Prince’s Palace. He had insisted on bringing not only dozens of servants, but a jester to alleviate his boredom, a personal chef, and even a tailor.
She was genuinely impressed by Varkas’s patience; he had accepted every unreasonable demand without raising his voice once.
She wore an apologetic expression.
“I am sorry for the trouble you’ve been caused.”
“It is not something you should apologize for, Your Highness. It was a matter that had to be dealt with eventually, regardless.”
He handed the reins to the stableman and added indifferently, “Compared to what I braced myself for, he is actually behaving quite gently. It is understandable, given he is seeing his beloved sister off; this level of mischief is well within the acceptable range.”
Aila’s face paled. At his words, the worry she had been trying so hard to ignore reared its head.
Looking up at the magnificent, snow-white fortress, Aila gripped her dress tightly. The thought of leaving her brother alone in this Imperial Palace, filled with such sad memories, made her heart feel as if it were being torn apart.
Furthermore, didn’t a wicked demon who coveted Gareth’s position live here? Could her brother, with his fiery temper, stand against that cunning woman on his own?
“If it is not a burden to you, I would like to visit the Imperial Palace periodically even after we are married. Would that be alright?”
Varkas, who had been examining another horse, turned his eyes toward her. Seeing the faint furrow in his smooth brow, Aila realized she had made an immature request and blushed.
Managing the vast eastern estates as the Grand Duchess and overseeing hundreds of retainers was no easy task. Once married, she would have to prioritize the affairs of the Siorcan Family above all else.
However, Varkas, who had been looking at her with thoughtful eyes, nodded as if it were nothing.
“If the travel is not a strain on Your Highness, you are free to come and go as you please. This marriage was formed to lend strength to the Crown Prince in the first place, was it not?”
Aila’s expression dimmed. It might be a purely political marriage to him, but it was not so for her. A pang of disappointment pricked her heart, but she did her best to appear pleased.
“Thank you for understanding.”
Varkas merely gave a slight nod and returned to examining the horse’s molars.
Suppressing a sigh, Aila placed a hand on her fiancé’s arm, forcing him to look at her.
“I know you are busy, but could you spare a moment? There is something I want to give you before we set off.”
The man, who had been looking at her with a puzzled expression, turned his body. He instructed the squire nearby to move the horses into the stable, then escorted her to a relatively quiet spot.
With the ladies-in-waiting having the sense to step back, Aila was able to enjoy a walk with him alone.
She kept her hand on his solid forearm, walking along the well-tended path. As they entered the large flower garden, a soft breeze tickled their faces.
The gardens of the Main Palace were in beautiful bloom. In the beds meticulously tended by the servants, summer flowers of vibrant colors were opening their buds, and the perfectly maintained shrubs were lush with emerald leaves.
Aila took it all in with a mournful expression. This scenery always left a scar on her heart. As time passed, the Imperial Palace—filled with traces of Talia Roem Gwirta—had become a part of her daily life, and her mother’s garden had gradually faded from her memory. That fact was the hardest thing of all to endure.
“What is it you wished to give me?”
Aila, lost in regret, turned and looked up at Varkas.
When he was young, he used to spend quite a lot of time in the garden cultivated by Bernadette. Aila knew that he had healed his devastated heart, at least a little, in that place.
She suddenly wondered: did this man miss her mother’s garden, too?
Looking at his expressionless face, where not even a shred of emotion could be found, Aila let out a sigh of resignation and took a handkerchief from inside her cloak.
“I embroidered the emblem of the Siorcan Family on it.”
The man’s gaze descended onto the neatly folded cloth. Suddenly, her mouth went dry.
As if to shake off her nerves, Aila began to chatter in an exaggerated tone.
“It’s tradition to give a handmade handkerchief to one’s fiancé before setting out on a journey. Although, of course, it is a journey we are taking together…”
“It is a gracious gift.”
The man interrupted her rambling and took the handkerchief. A faint smile hovered around his dry lips.
Aila felt her heart swell. She felt somewhat embarrassed to be so anxious over every move this man made, but she was happier that Varkas, who was so stingy with his expressions, had smiled for her.
“I will keep it dearly.”
He said, tying the handkerchief to the hilt of his sword. She smiled shyly.
Just then, hurried footsteps sounded not far away.