42.
I had been watching her like a hawk for the past few days, and finally, I caught the woman moving silently between the tents.
Talia, eyes narrowed and locked onto her target, began to shadow her with practiced caution. The woman moved with a grace that suggested mastery, her footsteps so light and agile that had I not been intimately familiar with the distinct training of the Taren Family, she would have vanished from my sight in an instant.
In a blur, the woman crossed the campsite and slipped between the long rows of wagons. Talia hesitated for a heartbeat before stealthily approaching the heavy timber, peering into the narrow gap between them. But the woman was already gone.
Flustered, Talia scanned the area and squeezed into the dark space between the wagons. Just then, something snagged her foot.
‘This is…’
Bending at the waist, Talia spotted a small glass bottle beneath a wheel and furrowed her brows. As she picked it up to inspect it, a few drops of viscous liquid clinging to the rim soaked into her fingertip.
She recoiled in shock, dropping the bottle. Bringing her hand to her nose, she caught the scent: a sickening, cloying mixture of overripe flowers and animal musk. The stench was so visceral it made her head swim, bile rising in her throat. Scowling, she wiped her hand clean with her handkerchief, but the oily odor clung to her skin, stubborn and foul.
‘Disgusting.’
She tossed the soiled cloth to the dirt and straightened up, only to freeze as a heavy, dark shadow loomed over her.
Talia whipped her head around and let out a sharp cry, stumbling back until she collapsed onto the earth. Varkas stood over her, his expression cold and unreadable.
“What are you doing in a place like this?”
Talia stared up at him, then scrambled to her feet. How long had he been watching? My heart hammered against my ribs, though I had done nothing yet. Talia tried to project composure, her voice sharp.
“You scared me! Sneaking around like a rat without a sound—what do you think you’re doing!”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Ignoring her outburst, Varkas uncrossed his arms and stepped into her space. Talia stumbled back, chin tilted in a defiant line.
“Why should I answer to you? It’s none of your business where I go or what I do!”
She made to leave, but Varkas used his long legs to effectively block her path. Trapped between the wooden bulk of the wagon and his towering, lean frame, Talia looked up at him with wide, anxious eyes.
“Why—why are you doing this?”
“I don’t know what kind of filth you’ll drag yourself into if I leave you to wander alone.”
His sharp tone made Talia’s shoulders recoil. Varkas watched her closely, then let out a faint, weary sigh and gestured with his chin.
“I will escort you to your quarters. Lead the way.”
“I—I don’t need it. I can go by myself…”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
Unconsciously, Talia’s hand darted to the hilt of the knife tucked in her pocket. It was a foolish, reflexive move—the equivalent of announcing she was hiding something. Seeing his eyes narrow, Talia pressed both hands against his chest.
“Who cares! Get out of the way!”
She pushed with all her might, but he didn’t budge. He looked slender, but his body was as rigid as forged iron. Talia suppressed her rising fear and held her chin high, feigning a confidence she didn’t feel.
“Didn’t you hear me? Move.”
Varkas looked down at her in silence before finally stepping back. Talia didn’t miss her chance; she darted through the gap between him and the wagon. She tried to hurry away, but a firm hand seized her arm, spinning her around.
In a blur, his hand dipped into her robe pocket and withdrew the knife she had sharpened so carefully.
Talia looked up at him, her face drained of color. Varkas ran his fingers over the blade with an elegant, chilling motion before locking his gaze onto hers. She could have lied—claimed it was for self-defense—but as she met his sharp, penetrating eyes, her resolve shattered.
Like a child having her only toy snatched away, she lashed out.
“Give that back!”
He raised the hand holding the knife high. Talia stood on her tiptoes, clawing at his uniform, reaching out in a desperate frenzy.
“Give it back! I said give it back!”
Varkas watched her spiral into this loss of reason, his expression rigid, before he flung the knife away.
Talia scrambled to retrieve it, but before her fingers could close around the handle, a boot encased in a golden sabaton kicked the weapon far into the darkness. She lunged for it, but before she could touch the ground, a long, firm arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her upright.
Talia twisted, glaring at him with a look of pure, venomous hatred. Varkas looked equally irritated.
“I won’t ask what you intended to do with that.”
He leaned in, his face inches from hers. His voice, low and sunken, felt like the edge of a blade.
“From now on, you are under constant surveillance. Discard all those useless, idiotic plans filling that small head of yours.”
*Who are you to speak to me like that?*
*Who are you to take my things?*
*Who are you?*
*You’re going to be another woman’s man. You’re going to leave forever. You made me want to kill her, so why won’t you let me do anything?*
The jumbled thoughts choked her. She wanted to scream, to curse him, but she clamped her jaw shut, terrified that if she spoke, she would dissolve into the wailing of a ten-year-old girl.
Varkas straightened and gestured for her to lead the way. Talia glared at him and marched through the wagons, her footsteps quick and jagged. His promise of constant surveillance didn’t sound like an empty threat; he followed her like a persistent shadow.
The presence she had once craved now felt sickening. He hadn’t been there when she truly needed him, yet he appeared the moment she made the decision of a lifetime, just to obstruct her.
‘Trying to protect Aila…’
No. Perhaps he was trying to protect Gareth.
He would never understand. He didn’t care about the half-brother who beat her black and blue at every opportunity, so he could never guess why she gritted her teeth at the half-sister who silently endured it.
She glanced at the campsite as dusk settled. Aila was likely having a grand time, surrounded by people who loved her, savoring the happy future awaiting her. The thought of that blushing face made Talia’s stomach boil. A hypocrite. She had everything, yet she gave Talia that pathetic, pitying look every time they met. It was all so disgusting.
I really want to kill her.
As she gnawed on her blood-crusted lip, Varkas, who had been trailing her in silence, suddenly snatched her arm and shoved her roughly aside.
Talia looked up at him, her heart sinking. For a moment, she wondered if he had read her mind. But he wasn’t looking at her.
He was staring at the sky. Talia followed his gaze, and her breath hitched. Something the size of a house was plummeting toward them at a terrifying velocity. Before she could identify the object, a deafening crash rocked the earth, and a thick, choking cloud of dust billowed into the air.
“A monster!”
Starting with a single shout, ear-piercing screams erupted from every corner of the camp.