When the attendants fell back and they stepped out into the covered walkway, a garden thick with marigolds, daisies, and rosemary spread before them.
The plants, soaked through, gave off a strong, green scent that filled the air. Ailah inhaled that sharp fragrance and turned to look up at Barkas.
"Was something the matter last night?" she asked hesitantly.
Barkas, who had been walking in silence, turned his head toward her. Ailah fixed her gaze on him. His pale blue eyes reflected everything but revealed nothing; meeting those pale, mirror-like eyes made her chest feel tight.
Would a day come when I would dwell inside him? the thought rose unbidden.
Before she could dwell on it long, Barkas — whose lips had been firmly closed — spoke.
"There's nothing you need to trouble yourself over, Your Highness."
"…So something did happen, then," she said.
He made no reply and strode into the rain-soaked garden. Heavy raindrops speckled his broad shoulders and back white. Watching his indifferent back with a sour look, Ailah found Barkas holding out a hand.
"The puddles are deep."
Ailah blushed and gave him a sideways glare as she understood what he meant. She was not about to throw herself into the arms of a man who had been so cruel, yet she could not leave her betrothed standing there waiting in the rain. After a moment's pretence, she gave in and approached him.
Barkas bent slightly and slid an arm under the back of her knees, lifting her lightly. Ailah — as she had since she was five — rested her head on his shoulder.
"You're so underhanded," she muttered.
At the out-of-context rebuke, his brow twitched upward slightly. Instead of trying to explain the jumble of feelings inside her, she hugged him more tightly.
Barkas wrapped his cloak around her snugly and crossed the wide garden. Ailah buried one cheek in his collar.
From him came the sharp scent of herbs, the faint metallic tang of armor, and a dry, hay-like fragrance. While intoxicated by that cool scent, whatever irritation she'd been feeling dissolved as if by magic. Ailah let out a self-mocking laugh.
It was ridiculous to feel giddy like a green girl over something that was simply an old, habitual act for him. He was kind because he'd pledged to keep a promise to her mother — kindness born of duty, no more, no less. Knowing that, her heart still ached.
"Cruel man. If you weren't going to be gentle, at least don't bother. That way I could have been content with a purely pragmatic arrangement…"
She lowered her eyes and felt a stab of sadness.
"I'll order warm water sent to your room. Warm up, then rest," Barkas said, having crossed the garden in an instant; he stopped at the lodging entrance. Ailah nodded.
He climbed the stone steps with easy strides and bent slightly as if to set her down. Just then, lightning flashed and a thunderclap rolled through the sky.
Ailah reflexively clung to the nape of his neck.
The thunderous peal followed by a blinding flash that split the black clouds made the world seem shaken. As she stared up in a daze, she suddenly saw a pale figure sitting at a second-floor window.
For a moment she worried she was seeing some horrible hallucination. The lightning revealed an eerily beautiful face: a white face, fragile as if it might break, aglow with a terrible hatred. She'd known her half-sister had an unusual beauty, but why was she so shocked now?
In the storm, Talia's eyes glowed malevolently — she looked like an angel of death. Ailah held her breath at that ominous image. Like a statue, Talia picked up a vase from the windowsill and hurled it; pottery smashed into the column near where they stood.
Ailah screamed.
Thanks to Barkas's protective hold, she avoided being showered with glass, but Barkas took a small scratch on his face. Ailah hurriedly produced a handkerchief and pressed it to his cheek.
Barkas accepted it with his typical impassive expression and glanced upward. Ailah followed his eyes and her face hardened when she saw Talia still glaring at her.
The girl showed not the slightest trace of guilt; her gaze was cold and murderous, her lips crushed like a rose. Ailah felt more than anger — real fear gripped her. The half-sister she had long dismissed as nothing seemed, in that instant, the most ominous and threatening presence in the world. The demon who had made her mother's life misery might drag Ailah into the same pit. The thought sent a chill through her.
The rain that had fallen all night tapered off at dawn. Talia, who had barely slept, stared hollow-eyed at the garden at first light.
The once-fresh blades of grass lay half-submerged in mud, the flowers that had brightened the beds now bent or broken like corpses. Talia descended from her bed and walked to the small table by the fireplace.
On a silver plate, the untouched food had gone hard. She eyed it listlessly, then picked up the small knife beside the tray.
Though designed for cutting food, it would serve just as well to cut flesh.
She toyed with the sharp point between her fingers and slipped it into the pocket of her robe, then left the room.
The corridor was thick with damp. She walked forward like a cat in heavy air, gripping the ice-cold knife tight. Her palms were soaked with cold sweat; whether from tension or excitement, she could not tell — perhaps both. She pursed her dry lips and crept up the stairs.
Ailah occupied a room on the top floor. When she reached the top, Talia pressed herself to the wall and peered down the dim hallway. Fortunately, there was no one posted at the door. Letting out a small sigh of relief, she crept toward the door at the end of the corridor.
A faint herbal scent reached her as she neared the wooden door banded in iron — a calming incense. It seemed Ailah hadn't had a completely peaceful night either; Talia thought of the expression on her face when she'd looked blue with fright — and this memory made her chuckle bitterly. But the next image that rose in her mind sent her mood plummeting.
She clenched the hilt in her pocket until her whole body trembled.
She had seen Barkas carry Ailah out into the pouring rain and hold her in his arms. When she did, everything she had maintained began to collapse.
She roughly wiped her misted eyes with the sleeve of her robe.
It had been the only memory she'd kept: a small thing she'd treasured and sometimes secretly re-opened. Had that one solitary remnant to be taken from her too? Could it not remain something only theirs?
Her skull boiled with fury; she knew her feelings were irrational, but she could not forgive them. She wanted to punish Ailah — to make her feel a fraction of the pain she felt. She wanted to return the same torment to that man.
Talia stared hard at the shut door, burning with hot eyes. Once she crossed beyond it, she would be crossing the point of no return. Perhaps history would brand her the wicked witch who stole a blameless princess's life. She no longer cared; she had already been judged the worst kind of villain. Falling lower mattered not.
Her hands shook as she gripped the doorknob.
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