A Proposal in the Dark
Once the uninvited guest had departed, Thalia pressed the healer to fill the room with the hazy smoke of the herbs. She drew in a deep breath of the pungent, mist-like air, and the seething sensations within her gradually began to subside. A profound sense of relief washed over her. If she waited just a little longer, the smoke would creep into her mind as well. Then she would not have to think about anything. She simply wanted to sleep as though she were dead.
She lay sprawled across the bed and closed her eyes. Yet no matter how long she waited, the thread of consciousness refused to snap, anchoring her firmly to reality. Desperate to fall asleep, she leaned closer to the brazier and inhaled the acrid smoke even more deeply, but only coughs erupted from her throat. Her body shook with violent spasms, and even the faint drowsiness gathering at the corners of her eyes fled.
Frustration swept over her. Thalia turned her gaze toward the window. The sky had already deepened into a blood-red hue. How long had she stared at that dizzying sunset light that sent a chill down her spine? Drawn by some unseen force, she slipped from the bed and planted both feet on the floor. The medicine appeared to be working; she felt no sharp pain.
She tested a few steps. Her left leg lagged a beat behind, dragging across the floor, yet the familiar agony that once flared with every bend of the joint remained quiet. This much, she could manage. She slid her bony feet into slippers, retrieved a hooded robe from the wardrobe, and draped it loosely over herself before stepping out of the bedroom with unsteady strides.
By now the nanny would be lounging in her quarters. The healer would have finished her duties and returned to her own lodging, and the maids would likewise be resting in their rooms. Just as she expected, she encountered no one while crossing the long corridor and descending the stairs. Thalia passed through the wide hall and slipped out of the detached palace through the servants’ side door.
A cool breeze brushed gently against her face. She inhaled the chilled air laced with the mingled scents of grass and flowers, then moved forward at a sluggish pace. How long had she wandered aimlessly before she realized she stood near the training grounds? A faint question surfaced in her fogged mind. Why did I come here?
She gazed with dazed eyes at the empty yard bathed in crimson light. Sensing movement, she instinctively ducked behind the bushes. Several knights were sparring on one side of the grounds, their swords flashing briefly in her line of sight. She watched them blankly for a moment, then continued on.
She walked without direction, her steps unsteady, until her once-clear vision began to ripple like water. The herb’s effect was finally taking hold. Thalia dragged her limp legs forward in a crawl slower than a worm’s. Suddenly she noticed her long shadow swallowed by deeper darkness and lifted her head. Without realizing it, she had entered a dimly lit building.
Where is this? She furrowed her brow in confusion. At the far end of the long corridor, a single door drew her gaze. She stumbled toward it and knocked softly.
After a brief silence, a low voice answered from within. “What is it?”
Thalia blinked slowly. Only at the sound of that voice did she remember why she had come. She spoke in a slurred tone. “I have something I want to say to you.”
A chilly silence followed. Fearing her voice had been too soft, she cleared her throat and opened her mouth again. Heavy footsteps approached, and the door swung open.
Thalia raised her head. Barcas stood there in nothing but a thin linen shirt loosely tucked into dark trousers, clearly having just finished his day’s work and settled in to rest. As she stared at him with unfocused eyes, a cold voice descended from above. “You came all the way here dressed like that?”
Thalia glanced down at herself. Through the parted robe she saw the summer nightclothes the nanny had dressed her in. What is wrong with this? She frowned, and a large garment settled over her shoulders. She looked up at him, puzzled. Barcas had wrapped his own coat around her, shielding her completely, and now scanned the corridor where shadows were deepening.
“Where is your escort?”
“Escort?”
His eyes narrowed. He cupped her chin lightly and lifted it, bending down to peer straight into her face. “How much of the sleep herb did you burn?”
Thalia strained to focus on his blurring features. Barcas wore an expression she had never seen before. Or perhaps it was her own mind that was strange. The entire world looked distorted; why should this man appear normal? She roughly pushed his hand away and parted her lips. “I told you I came because I have something to say.”
His gaze sharpened, clearly displeased. He straightened, glanced at the darkening sky beyond the window, then looked back over his shoulder into his room as though weighing something. Impatience prickled through her. Did I speak in the tongue of elves or dwarves? Why no answer?
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I have something to say……”
At that moment her body tilted sideways. She clutched the doorframe. The long walk from the detached palace had cramped her leg; a faint spasm rippled through her left thigh. To keep from collapsing, she braced both hands against the wall and shifted her weight onto the other leg.
Then her body lifted into the air. Startled, she looked up into a face etched with fatigue. Barcas carried her in his arms and stepped into the wide bedroom where candles glowed. Thalia lowered her gaze to the familiar yet unfamiliar scene. She had come here many times to see him, yet this was the first time she had entered the room. A wry laugh escaped her. Only with legs like these had she earned the right to step into his sanctuary.
“The conversation can wait until the effects wear off,” Barcas said with a sigh as he laid her on his bed.
Thalia seized the hem of his shirt before he could withdraw. Through the thin fabric she felt the solid tension of his trained torso. Perhaps he had guessed what she meant to say. She clung to the cloth like a lifeline, struggling to steady her slipping focus. “No. I’m speaking now. Once I’m in my right mind, I won’t be able to say it……”
“……”
“You said that if I agreed, you would take me as your wife, didn’t you?”
He stared at her without answering. Thalia forced her tongue, which threatened to unravel like overcooked noodles, to move. “Do it. Abandon Ayla Roem Guerta and take me as your wife instead.”
A heavy silence fell. An unreadable light flickered across his face, silhouetted against the sunset. Perhaps he was bewildered. She had spoken on the assumption of refusal, so maybe her own answer had left him frustrated. Yet when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm. “I will do so.”
Thalia searched his face with blurred eyes. A hollow laugh slipped out at the dry, emotionless expression. Because of this man, Ayla had been forced to seek out the half-sister she despised and swallow her pride. Thalia herself was tormented by the urge to ruin everything. Yet why did this man remain so serene? On that cool, almost bored countenance, something inside her cracked.