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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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Chapter 69
Barcas stepped onto the carriage with narrowed eyes, his gaze sweeping over her methodically from head ‌to toe.
A faint crease appeared between his brows.
Before I could ‌‌‌‌even comprehend the reason, he climbed onto the carriage with ‌a long stride, retrieved the cloak that had fallen to the floor, and draped it across my shoulders. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached to lift me into his arms.
Talia startled and pushed against his shoulders with considerable force.
"I can walk on my own!"
Though the medicine's effects had worn off and pain was beginning to radiate from my knees again, a ‌‌‌‌brief walk should pose no ‌‌real difficulty.
She cast aside the cumbersome cloak and carefully descended, taking pains to conceal the scar.
At that moment, a firm hand grasped her ‌‌shoulder.
"You intend to go out dressed ‌‌‌like that?"
A wedge-shaped glare bore down upon her.
Talia shrank her shoulders and lowered her gaze to examine her ‌‌own attire.
The dress laces had ‌‌‌come undone while she slept, leaving her gaunt shoulders and forearms completely exposed. That was not all. The deeply cut neckline gaped down to her chest. ‌‌
Talia ‌‌flushed crimson and hastily pulled her bodice upward.
Barcas watched her undignified struggle in silence, then sighed softly and wrapped his own coat around her shoulders once more. This time, Talia did not resist.
After he fastened the buttons securely up to ‌‌‌her neck, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and stepped outside.
I felt like a carefully wrapped doll.
No—it was nothing so endearing. He was merely taking pity on someone who could not walk properly, a cripple.
Talia deliberately drove cruel words into her own heart.
Better to pierce myself with my own hands than to have him steal away every fragment of my soul—it would ‌‌hurt less in the end.
"Count, what shall we do with the messenger who arrived ‌‌from the Eastern Region?"
Just as he reached the threshold, one of the noblemen standing near the entrance spoke to him. ‌‌
Talia stole a glimpse of his face through the folds of the cloak. The bear-like man with sharp, eagle-eyed gaze was also glancing at her.
"Must I give instructions for every trivial matter?"
He pulled the cloak up to ‌‌cover her head and spoke coldly.
"Provide him with suitable lodgings and assign an attendant to serve him. Have him meet with me tomorrow at first light."
Without waiting for the nobleman's response, he strode into the building.
As he ‌‌‌crossed the expansive grand ‌‌‌hall and climbed the stairs, Talia assembled the scattered pieces of information in her mind.
It seemed many were concerned that this marriage would strain the relationship between the Crown Prince and ‌‌Sierchan House.
Likely, while Senebier prepared for the wedding, he had been occupied with managing the aftermath.
He would have needed to console Gareth, who trembled with betrayal, and explain to the Conservative Nobility, including Marquis Orisstein, that he had not turned his back ‌on them.
Despite such efforts, people seemed unable to accept the sudden change of bride.
In a sense, it was inevitable. Even she herself was uncertain whether this entire situation might be someone's malicious prank.
"I shall summon an attendant to serve you."
Barcas, who had entered ‌‌‌the room unnoticed, set her down upon a long velvet chair as he spoke.
Talia looked around the cozily appointed bedroom, then turned her gaze back to him.
Barcas unfastened his formal coat buttons with one hand while grasping the cord hanging beside the bed to summon a ‌‌servant. At the sight, my insides twisted tight.
She cried out in a sharp voice.
"I don't need an attendant!"
Barcas turned to regard her over his shoulder, his ‌brows drawing together.
Talia averted her gaze, lowering her eyes.
"Call the Nursemaid for me."
"It's late. I'll bring her first thing tomorrow morning, so please bear with it for today."
She immediately shot him ‌‌‌a fierce glare.
"I ‌‌won't let anyone but the Nursemaid attend to me. You dragged ‌me out here on your own, so take responsibility and bring her!"
His blue eyes gleamed with a cold light.
Talia clenched her ‌‌‌‌fists so hard her knuckles cracked.
He was a man who had already allotted himself a finite amount of patience for her. The thought crossed her mind that he might simply leave in disgust.
But it seemed his daily quota hadn't been exhausted yet, for ‌he walked to the door and summoned ‌‌‌‌‌‌a servant.
"Send someone to the Secondary Palace immediately and bring back a Quarter ‌‌Dwarf."
"Pardon? Right now?"
"Yes. Send the fastest person you have."
Barcas closed the door again ‌‌in front of the bewildered servant, then cast a sharp gaze at her as if asking whether she was satisfied.
Talia avoided his eyes.
Barcas exhaled a long breath and picked up a ‌‌robe from the shelf, offering it to her.
"Wear this until ‌‌‌someone arrives to attend to you."
Talia immediately accepted it, draping it over her dress, and demanded in ‌‌a voice that trembled and broke.
"Leave now. I want to be alone until ‌‌‌‌the Nursemaid arrives."
"This is my room as well." ‌‌‌‌‌
In that instant, the world spun and her palms grew clammy with cold sweat.
She gripped the front of her robe tightly closed and moistened her parched lips.
"Then... I'll leave. Take me to another room."
"Your Highness."
He placed one hand on her shoulder.
When she barely ‌‌managed to lift her head, she saw his blue eyes shadowed with deep darkness.
"You were the one who agreed to this marriage."
She ‌‌looked up at his expressionless face with widened eyes.
So he was saying... he would stay here? With ‌‌me?
Terror coiled her stomach tight.
She looked down at her throbbing knees.
The memory of Senebier's gaze upon her scars surfaced—her mother's dark ‌‌eyes as though witnessing something repulsive, which then transformed ‌‌into Barcas's silvery-blue eyes.
Before she could control herself, a jumbled torrent of words spilled from her lips.
"Then... then, let's just cancel it. How can we share a room? I only married you to... to torment you. You only married me because the Emperor ‌‌commanded it. You don't want to ‌‌‌‌be with me either. So let's just pretend none of this happened..."
"Talia."
He ‌‌‌‌knelt before her, cradling both her cheeks in his hands and drawing his ‌‌face close.
Talia found herself locked into his gaze.
In those beautiful eyes scattered with silver fragments, her pale, sweat-dampened face was reflected. His voice emerged as though scraped raw.
"I won't do anything to you."
"..."
"Just for tonight. I've already bribed the Priest, but I can't silence every ‌‌servant's tongue. At least for the first night, we must share the same Bedroom."
His composed demeanor stilled the frantic beating of my heart, allowing it to find its rhythm once more.
Talia bit her lip and nodded.
Satisfied that she ‌‌‌‌had calmed, Barcas slowly rose to his feet.
Talia tracked his movements with eyes still clouded by wariness.
He peeled ‌‌‌away his rain-soaked coat and settled into the chair by the ‌‌‌window in nothing but ‌‌a thin shirt, his ordinarily rigid physique now sagging with exhaustion.
A heavy sigh stretched through the room.
Shortly after, servants arrived bearing trays laden with spirits and food.
Talia mechanically forced ‌‌‌down a single piece of bread, then washed it down with a glass of potent moonshine instead of a sleeping ‌‌‌draught.
As the alcohol took hold, the rigid tension in her muscles eased and the pain dulled.
She poured herself another measure into the golden goblet.
After several more glasses, Barcas—who had been letting her do as ‌‌‌‌‌she pleased—seized the wine bottle from her hands.
"That is quite enough."
Talia bolted upright from her chair, reaching to reclaim the bottle.
But her already weakened legs had turned to jelly beneath the weight of the ‌alcohol. ‌‌‌
She swayed like a boneless thing. Barcas caught her wavering form and laid her straight upon the bed.
Even half-drunk and barely conscious, Talia's first instinct was to check her skirts.
Barcas, regarding her with shadowed eyes, drew the blanket up over ‌‌her shoulders, then walked to the window and drew back ‌‌‌the curtains.
The sunset deepened from crimson to violet, flooding over him in waves of color.
As I watched his firmly-drawn shoulders take on a coppery glow, my eyes closed slowly.
Even bathed in the fierce light of the setting sun, he appeared impossibly cold and austere.

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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on ‌‌our official site: valirscans.org
---------------