To Wound Me or Yourself
"My apologies. I spoke without thinking."
The man bowed his head at once. Without offering any reply, Barcas strode into his bedchamber.
A page hurried after him. With a light gesture, Barcas dismissed the boy, then sat on the edge of a chair and stripped off his armor and clothing himself, arranging them neatly before sinking into the bath the servants had prepared in advance.
A full day in the saddle had left him thick with dust and the smell of horse. He washed every inch of himself in the clear water, then pulled on a dark navy doublet and woolen trousers. After tugging on boots that rose to mid-calf, he stood before the mirror and took in the clean, composed silhouette looking back at him.
Years of training had forged a body that held itself with perfect discipline in every moment. He regarded the man who looked as though he had been cast by the imperial court itself for a long while, then took up his coat and left the room.
He was about to head straight for the banquet hall when a woman descending the stairs caught his eye. Recognizing her as the healer dispatched from the imperial palace, Barcas called her to a halt at once.
"Why are you coming down from upstairs?"
The woman bowed her head in haste.
"Her Highness the Princess summoned me..."
His brow furrowed. He had expected Thalia to disregard his instructions, but confirming it with his own eyes stirred a faint irritation. He asked in a clipped tone,
"How is Her Highness's condition?"
"Thanks to a full day's rest, she seemed better than usual. The fever has completely broken as well. However, the pain in her legs appears unchanged..."
"You burned sleep-herb again."
Reading the censure in his voice, the healer's face stiffened noticeably. She spoke as if in defense.
"Her Highness suffers from severe chronic pain. Using sleep-herb is the best measure we have to ease her suffering."
He scrutinized the woman's face with a sharp gaze. Could he truly trust a healer the Empress had assigned? This was a woman who treated her own daughter like a pawn. There was no telling what schemes she might be working behind the scenes.
He studied the healer's face as if weighing her true intentions, then gave a nod that she was free to go. She bowed and descended the stairs at a pace neither hurried nor slow. Watching her retreating figure with a scrutinizing eye, Barcas soon made his way to Thalia's bedchamber.
When he knocked on the firmly shut door, a slightly hoarse voice drifted out.
"Come in."
The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, cool air brushed his cheek. His brow drew together. Contrary to his expectation of a room thick with cloying smoke, the spacious chamber held only a faint scent of flowers and dried herbs.
Steadying the unsettled feeling in his chest, he slowly surveyed the disordered room. At last he found the small shadow seated on the windowsill.
Barcas opened his mouth to call her name, then abruptly closed it. He could not say what had sealed his throat. The woman who had been bathing her whole body in the pouring sunset light turned her head toward him. When their eyes met, a strange restlessness only grew stronger.
He tugged at the collar of his doublet and strode toward her. After firmly latching the wide-open window, he pressed the back of his hand to her pale, luminous cheek and felt a chill as cold as ice.
"How long have you been like this?"
"Like what?"
"How long have you been sitting in the cold wind."
Her eyes narrowed. As a sulky expression filled her small face, she looked a good two years younger than her age. She swatted his hand away and said curtly,
"I don't know. Why should you care."
"What if your fever comes back."
"Then it comes back."
He frowned. Whenever he spoke with this woman, a strange impulse rose in him — the urge to force her to listen by sheer strength, and at the same time a peculiar desire to coax her gently somehow. As if shaking off that odd feeling, he took a step back. When he put a little distance between them, the tension seemed to leave her stiff shoulders, the rigidity draining away.
Arms wrapped around her knees, Thalia looked him up and down and continued in a sullen tone.
"Never mind that. Why are you dressed up like that?"
"Guests have arrived. We're holding a simple banquet."
"Guests?"
"The regional lords of the East. They came to make themselves known to me, apparently."
"Hmm..."
She toyed with the hem of his coat, making a curious little sound. He looked down quietly at that hand. After fretting at his coat for a long while, she opened her mouth hesitantly.
"Shouldn't I be attending too?"
He lifted his gaze again. A face beautiful to an almost uncanny degree filled his vision. She was a woman who stirred the emotions of others to a strange degree — even he, whose senses were largely restrained, felt peculiar impulses because of her. He could tell without seeing it what kind of chaos she would cause here.
After a brief pause, he slowly shook his head. He could not hide her forever, but until he had a complete grip on the East's leadership, he preferred to keep her out of people's sight as much as possible.
"There's no need. I'll explain things properly to my vassals. For now, Your Highness should rest and recover."
"...You're just embarrassed of me, aren't you."
Suddenly her voice took on an edge. Barcas, who had been about to turn toward the door, stopped short and looked down at her. She chewed on her scabbed lip and spoke with a sneer.
"Already regretting taking a cripple for a wife?"
He clenched his fist tight. If he didn't, he felt he might do something terrible. Drawing a long breath, Barcas waited for the sharp emotion to settle, looking down at her with cold eyes. The hostility in her pupils only grew more distinct. In that moment, the words he had been holding down finally scraped their way up his throat.
"Sometimes I can't tell. Whether the things you say are meant to wound me... or to hurt yourself."
Her lips stiffened as if her words had been cut short. He looked down in silence at the face thick with distrust, then let out a faint sigh and turned away.
"I'll send a maid. Get yourself ready. If you truly wish to attend, I won't stop you."
"Forget it."
Thalia hopped down from the windowsill and snapped coldly,
"If I stay with you any longer, my fever will come back."
Then she staggered toward the bed and threw herself onto the sheets. Barcas watched her for a moment, then left the room.
He went straight down the stairs and stepped into the grand banquet hall, where hundreds of eyes flew toward him. They rose from their seats as one.
"You've arrived, Young Lord."
One of the vassals seated near the entrance offered a respectful bow. Barcas accepted the greeting with a slight nod of his head and slowly crossed the hall.
High-ranking nobles in splendid attire and his own kinsmen occupied the central table of the banquet hall, while men of far plainer dress sat arranged around them as if encircling the room. As he passed them and reached the seat of honor, the faint melody that had been drifting through the hall cut off. He slowly surveyed those gathered, then offered the customary greeting.
"Thank you for coming so far. I hope you'll forgive me if the hospitality falls short."
"Falls short? Why, this is the finest wine I've tasted in my life!"
One of the men seated around the long table called out heartily. Barcas turned his gaze toward him. Embroidered on the man's resplendent coat was the crest of a black bear — the symbol of House Gutban, which held dominion over the southeastern territories.
The man raised his cup high and continued in a provocative tone.
"Indeed, a gift from His Imperial Majesty is something else entirely. I wonder if the likes of us even dare put it to our lips. Is this not the reward Young Lord received for a lifetime of devotion?"
Having delivered the line with theatrical flair, the man gulped down the wine and set the cup down with a loud bang.
"Thinking of it as the sweat and tears Young Lord has shed... this fine wine tastes rather bitter."
A heavy silence settled over the hall. Barcas leaned back against his chair and twisted the corner of his mouth.
"Apparently you've come looking for a fight."