Chapter 140
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 140
A sudden, stray thought crossed Tyron’s mind: what would have happened if Barkas Raedgo Sieorkan had married the First Imperial Princess as originally planned?
Politically speaking, it would have been far more advantageous. The friction currently chafing the relationship between House Sieorkan and the Crown Prince wouldn’t exist.
Yet, for some reason, Tyron found it impossible to imagine Barkas taking any other woman as his wife.
"I’ve kept our guests standing for far too long. Come, follow me. I’ll show you to your quarters so you can rest."
Tyron snapped back to reality at the sound of Daren’s voice. He looked up to see Daren personally leading the Northerners away.
As Daren headed toward the annex, he tossed a casual reprimand over his shoulder.
"Go wash up. You look like a mess."
Tyron let out a faint sigh, his fingers scratching at the dried blood crusting on his cheek.
Now was not the time to dwell on idle "what-ifs." After scrubbing away the blood and dust and tending to his minor injuries, he had to return to his unit immediately. A mountain of overdue paperwork likely awaited him, with security concerns sitting at the very top of the pile.
His expression darkened as he recalled the group of Zram people who had ambushed them. While they had been busy quenching the sparks of war in the North, the internal rot in the East had clearly worsened.
Running a hand roughly through his disheveled hair, Tyron led his men across the wide courtyard with weary steps.
Suddenly, a sharp chill brushed against his cheek. He looked up at the sky, where heavy, ashen clouds were rolling in.
Just as the Grand Duchess had sensed, white flakes began to dance in the wind. It was an early snow.
An inexplicable premonition seized Tyron.
Perhaps this year’s winter would be exceptionally long and harsh.
* * *
"Were you in a fight?"
As they walked down the long corridor, the woman resting quietly in his arms suddenly wrinkled her nose and spoke up.
Barkas checked his clothes to see if any bloodstains had transferred onto his person. He looked no different than when he had first left the castle.
If that was the case, the scent of blood must still be clinging to him. Her sense of smell had always been sharp, but pregnancy seemed to have heightened it to an almost supernatural degree.
He quickened his pace, offering a calm excuse.
"I was merely out hunting."
"Liar. You just returned with the knights. Who takes an entire unit of knights out just to go hunting?"
"I increased the escort because raiders have been active lately."
The woman scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. "Is that the truth?"
"It is."
Barkas gave an unwavering answer as he adjusted his hold on her and pushed open the bedroom door.
The air inside was chilly, likely because the room was being aired out. He went straight to the window, latched it shut, and settled her in front of the fireplace. As he poked at the dying embers with a fresh log, she tugged insistently on his sleeve.
"Stop hunting. If raiders are active, why risk yourself? Leave the meat to the professional hunters or just buy it from a butcher."
Barkas knit his brows.
Since becoming pregnant, his wife had grown more anxious than before. She seemed convinced that if anything happened to him, not only her safety but the child’s would be in immediate jeopardy.
It would be useless to boast that such a thing was impossible. After a moment’s thought, Barkas simply nodded.
"I understand. I won’t go hunting anymore."
The woman, who had been watching him with a tense face, finally slumped her shoulders in relief.
He would have to instruct the servants to keep their mouths shut so they wouldn’t blabber about the Grand Duke personally hunting the meat.
He looked down at the logs as they began to catch fire, lightly brushing the dust off his palms.
He knew, as she said, that using professional hunters was more efficient. Nevertheless, he had no intention of stopping his hunts for the time being. He simply couldn’t stomach the thought of her eating meat provided by another man.
It was a possessiveness he’d never felt before. Meat was just meat; what did it matter who caught it? He couldn’t even logically explain why he was acting on such irrational impulses.
However, when he watched the woman—who had barely touched meat since she was a child—take a large bite of fatty flesh and chew it enthusiastically, his self-mocking doubts vanished without a trace.
There was a primal satisfaction in seeing her gain a little weight from the food he had provided with his own hands. He didn’t want to rely on anyone else for this, if he could help it.
"So... what did you catch today?" she asked suddenly, her tone cautious, as if worried she had nagged him too much.
He stepped on the bellows to fan the flames and answered calmly. "I caught pheasant."
Her eyes instantly sparkled. Leaning toward him, her voice rose an octave in excitement.
"The same kind we had last time? That was delicious! Tell the chef to roast the skin until it’s perfectly crispy. And don’t forget the Kemarlin sauce!"
He watched her without blinking.
It never ceased to amaze him how a woman who usually kept her thorns bared to the world could become so animated over a simple meal.
Perhaps noticing his intense gaze, she grumbled with an embarrassed flush.
"It’s not that I want to eat it. It’s... it’s because this little one wants it."
She stroked her belly, which had begun to swell slightly.
Barkas instinctively dropped his gaze to her hand, clenching his fists tight. If he didn’t, he feared he might grab her with his dirty hands and pull her into a rough, desperate embrace.
Whether she noticed his restraint or not, the woman pouted her full lips and continued to grumble.
"I think this child is going to be incredibly greedy. What if he’s born and he’s as fat as a piglet? A chubby baby would be so unsightly..."
"Then I shall leave him with a nanny and ensure he stays out of Your Highness’s sight as much as possible," he blurted out half-heartedly, trying to keep his scattering focus together.
Her eyes flared with indignation.
"You idiot! Is that what you’re supposed to say? You should say, 'He’ll be beautiful even if he’s chubby!'"
"He will be beautiful even if he is chubby," he repeated immediately, but the scowl remained fixed on her face.
Fuming for reasons he couldn’t fathom, she snatched a cushion from the chair and swung it mercilessly at his back.
"And there’s no way my baby could be unsightly! He’s going to be very, very beautiful! Even if he’s as fat as a pig, he’ll be the cutest thing in the world!"
He didn’t understand why she was angry at him when she was the one who had worried about the child being unsightly in the first place. However, her sulky face as she vented her unfair anger was terribly beautiful.
He swallowed a sigh and turned toward the washstand. Despite the loose cut of his trousers, he felt a stifling, heavy heat pooling below his waist.
It didn’t matter much, as it would eventually subside if left alone, but he was worried he might make her uncomfortable. He didn’t want Thalia to worry about unnecessary things. He just wanted her to stay comfortable and worry-free, just as she was now.
To cool his blood, he filled a basin with cold water and washed his hands and face. But his aroused body showed no signs of relenting.
Should I go to the next room and take care of this?
As he frowned, looking down at himself, he felt a warm presence press against his back.
"Are you mad?"
The woman clung to him, poking her head forward to peer at his face.
He narrowed his eyes. Was she doing this on purpose?
He glared at her with suspicious eyes and tried to pull away slightly.
"I likely smell of horses. Please, stay back a little."
"I don’t mind..."
She pressed her nose against his shirt and took a deep breath. Her damp breath tickled his skin through the thin fabric.
"The scent of mint and your own scent are the strongest."
She was definitely doing this on purpose.
Gritting his teeth, Barkas turned around and swept her up into his arms. He sat down in the chair and pulled her body, which was growing softer by the day, into a crushing embrace.
Her breasts, fuller than before, were pressed firmly against his chest. He cupped one in his hand, stroking it gently, before resting his palm upon the soft, rounded curve of her womb.