Lucas made a fed-up face.

Ever since hearing about Varkas's marriage, his sister seemed to have completely lost her mind.

Raina, who had secretly harbored a sort of admiration for the relationship between Aila and Varkas, had concocted some clumsy romance in her head. And in that story, Talia Roem Gwirta appeared to be a villainess for the ages, one who had torn apart two devoted lovers.

Raina's eyes burned with fighting spirit, just like the first time she had chased after the mounted warriors to hunt a manticore.

“Just wait and see. I'll make that woman leave this place of her own accord. We're going to save Brother from the witch of House Taren!”

Just what had possessed her eyes that she saw Varkas Laedgo Siorcan as someone in need of rescuing?

Sometimes, Lucas wanted to pry open her head and take a look inside.

Swallowing a sigh, he picked up the coat hanging over the back of his chair.

“Well, do your best.”

“You're shamelessly running away on your own?”

“Didn't you see Brother carrying that woman away wrapped up like a cocoon? I have no desire to fall out of favor with the future Grand Duke over something pointless.”

“That's all because of that woman's cunning tricks! Haven't you heard the rumors? The women of House Taren use wicked magic to steal men's souls!”

Raina practically foamed at the mouth.

“She must have pretended to be weak to gain his sympathy! Brother simply couldn't bear to ignore such a pitiful sight!”

Lucas shook his head.

There was no point talking to Raina when she was like this.

As he let out a long sigh and headed for the door, Raina's shrill voice rang out.

“Where are you going?!”

“To ride. I'm suffocating, so I need some fresh air.”

“You can't! Don't you know Brother's welcome banquet is soon?”

Pretending not to hear her, he left the room.

The central hall was crowded with servants carrying luggage.

Pale-faced workers who looked to be from the central region piled huge chests like mountains in one corner of the spacious hall, while the servants of Laedgo Castle opened them and recorded their contents.

Even at a glance, the treasures inside were enough to make one's eyes widen.

'So the rumors about her extravagance are true.'

He swept his gaze over the clothes and countless ornaments packed inside the chests before heading out through the back door.

He was about to make his way to the stables when he noticed that the training grounds in the rear courtyard were filled with warriors from the Wolfram Spear Cavalry, who had departed to assist Varkas.

Spotting a familiar face among them, Lucas immediately changed direction.

“Tyron!”

The man, who was leisurely drinking wine while wearing only a loose Tunka draped over his body, looked back over his shoulder.

“Ah, Second Young Master.”

Wiping his wet lips, he spoke in his characteristic lazy drawl.

“Have you been well?”

“So well it's become boring.”

Dropping down onto the steps surrounding the training grounds, Lucas snatched the wine bottle from his hand and drained it in one gulp.

“How's the capital?”

“As chaotic as expected.”

Seemingly unbothered by his rude behavior, Tyron merely shrugged and continued calmly.

“With this marriage, not only Marquis Oristein but most of the conservative nobles have become unsettled. Lord Siorcan had quite a difficult time keeping them under control.”

“And the First Imperial Princess and the Crown Prince?”

“I never even had the chance to meet the First Imperial Princess. I heard she has secluded herself in her room. Which is understandable. To have her engagement broken right before the wedding... I imagine she won't appear in public until another match has been arranged.”

“And His Highness the Crown Prince...”

Tyron folded his arms and furrowed his brow as though choosing his words carefully.

“He was certainly furious, but surprisingly, he accepted the situation calmly. I imagine he decided it would benefit him more to strengthen his ties with Lord Siorcan by pretending to agree with the marriage than to become complete enemies.”

Lucas tilted his head in surprise.

“That's unexpected. I thought he'd start a war with the East to make Brother pay for betraying his sister. Everyone says he'd do anything for the First Imperial Princess.”

Remembering the rough impression the Crown Prince had left when he visited the capital years ago, Lucas frowned.

Tyron burst into laughter.

“In front of power, even pigs learn to count beads on an abacus. The Crown Prince truly treasures his sister, but surely not more than the throne. In fact, he seemed more worried about his support base being shaken than about the humiliation suffered by the First Imperial Princess.”

Lucas frowned.

He too had studied for years at the academy in the capital, but he could never grow accustomed to the values of the central nobles.

The East valued blood ties more deeply.

Raina was an irritating younger sister, but if she had been cast aside by her fiancé, they would have been willing to wage war to avenge that humiliation.

Suddenly, he found himself feeling sorry for the First Imperial Princess.

She had been betrayed not only by her fiancé, but also by the younger brother she trusted.

Perhaps Raina was right.

Perhaps women with the blood of House Taren truly possessed some dangerous charm that made men abandon even their loyalty.

He remembered those deep blue eyes hidden beneath the hood.

Filled with faint warmth, they had shimmered like living jewels.

No.

Even the finest lapis lazuli could never compare.

Trying to remove her hood had been entirely instinctive.

The moment their eyes met, his hand had moved before he realized it.

His voice slightly lowered, he asked,

“What kind of person does the Second Imperial Princess seem to be?”

Deep wrinkles formed on Tyron's brow.

After a moment's pause, he answered.

“I only spoke with her once, so I cannot say for certain. But one thing is obvious. The rumors are right. She is no ordinary person.”

“Worse than Raina?”

“Surely not worse than the young lady.”

He said it jokingly.

But shallow wrinkles lingered around his eyes, as though even he wasn't entirely sure.

Lucas felt his curiosity swell even more.

Just what sort of person could make even this slippery, easygoing man wear such an expression?

“What about her appearance? Is she really that beautiful?”

At the sudden question, Tyron, who had been reaching for the bottle again, paused and looked at him searchingly.

For some reason, Lucas felt guilty.

Scratching the ground with the heel of his boot, he looked away.

After studying him silently, Tyron emptied the remaining mouthful of wine and spoke indifferently.

“Beautiful enough to become a problem.”

Then, wearing a thoughtful expression, he added meaningfully,

“Which is precisely why Lord Siorcan keeps her hidden so carefully.”

* * *

When she opened her eyes, darkness had settled over everything.

Talia gasped harshly and clutched her throat.

It felt as though someone were strangling her.

Scratching at her skin in an attempt to tear away those invisible fingers, she crawled to the head of the bed and tugged the bell cord.

A moment later, she heard the door open.

Turning her head, Talia froze.

The instant a familiar silhouette entered her vision, the suffocating pressure vanished.

It was as though her body recognized him before her mind could.

“Are your legs cramping again?”

Lighting the lamp by her bedside, Varkas bent over the bed and asked.

Taking a long breath, Talia shook her head.

“I was just thirsty. I called for a maid.”

His eyes narrowed.

Apparently, he didn't believe her.

Placing one hand against her forehead to check her temperature, Varkas turned toward the maids who had just arrived and gave a curt order.

“Fetch medicine from the healing mage.”

Then he personally poured her a glass of water and handed it over.

His blatant disregard for her words irritated her for a moment, but she was grateful that he had come immediately, so she accepted the glass without complaint.

One sip of cold water made her hazy mind clear considerably.

Setting the glass down, she looked him over with eyes no longer clouded by fever.

Varkas wore a fitted tunic beneath the loose outer garment favored by the men of the East.

The unfamiliar attire made something churn inside her.

Stealing glances at the outline of his chest visible between the folds of his clothing, she lowered her eyes with an uncomfortable expression.

“What kind of outfit is that? It's strange.”

“...It's traditional attire of the East.”

“Don't wear that anymore. It doesn't suit you.”

In truth, it suited him infuriatingly well.

The man who always dressed with blade-like perfection now wore loose clothes that seemed as though they might come undone at any moment.

There was something vaguely sensual about it.

And for some reason, that irritated her.

She emphasized her words.

“You look terribly lacking in dignity. If you dress like that, your retainers will underestimate you. So don't wear it.”

Varkas quietly looked down at her face.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Understood.”