Aya Ran Away - Chapter 28

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 28
Ignoring Bardal’s murmured muttering, Nahal asked about the princess’s condition.
“Is that so? What did the physician say?”
“He said her fever came from exhaustion, and she should recover fine after a day or two of rest.”
Nahal released a small sigh.
Bardal, who did not miss the faint relief that crossed his face, widened his eyes in puzzlement.
The words had been meant as a jest, but somehow Nahal’s reaction did not match what he’d expected.
Not knowing what connection Nahal might have with Aya, Bardal found this response oddly strange.
‘Did he actually grow attached to her? In such a short time?’
Thinking back, Nahal had always been soft-hearted toward small, delicate things.
Bardal tried to conjure up the image of the mute, limping princess so famous in the Royal Palace.
Countless rumors surrounding her flickered through his mind, but he could scarcely picture her face, despite having glimpsed her several times.
Noticing Bardal gazing at him intently, Nahal’s eyes narrowed.
“If you’ve nothing more to say, sit down and help me sort through these.”
With an expressionless face, Nahal gestured to the empty space beside him, indicating where Bardal should sit.
Despite muttering complaints about coming for nothing, Bardal readily took his place.
There was far too much work to sink into idle thoughts.
* * *
Shortly after, once the physician who had come to visit her departed, Aya took her medicine and drifted into a light sleep.
When she stirred awake at the touch of someone’s hands massaging her body, she found herself face to face with startled attendants, who quickly bowed their heads.
As Aya’s eyes blinked silently, the attendants, delayed in realizing she could not speak, hastened to explain.
“We beg your pardon for the alarm. Your leg developed a cramp, so we took the liberty of attending to it.”
At their careful words, Aya glanced down at her legs.
Though the leg rubbed with Fragrant Oil no longer cramped, a dull ache lingered.
It seemed the cramp had seized her during her brief sleep.
“If it pleases you, might we continue the treatment?”
At their courteous tone, Aya nodded.
Such devoted attention bewildered her.
She felt oddly uncertain.
Aya reclined awkwardly, allowing their hands to work over her legs.
She felt the tight, rigid muscles gradually soften and release.
The skilled attendants, with perfect timing, applied warm, damp Towels for compress.
Her legs felt lighter than before.
Once the massage ended, another attendant entered carrying a bowl of thin rice porridge.
Aya had no need to lift a spoon.
The moment she opened her mouth, food was placed within it.
Eating had always been laborious with half her tongue gone, but today it was manageable.
The hand that cooled each portion to the right temperature and fed it to her moved with practiced ease.
‘There are people like this in the palace.’
Aya, who had known only the attendants of her own quarters, was newly struck by wonder.
After sleeping well and eating well, her fever vanished and strength returned to her languid limbs.
With the leg pain easing, as her discomfort melted away, her heart grew lighter.
The attendants who had cared for her watched as she sprawled contentedly on the Bedding, savoring her ease, then withdrew.
They did not forget to mention that she should ring the bell if she needed anything.
Left alone, Aya rubbed her face against the plush Bedding and exhaled a pleased sigh.
The quilts carried the scent of sun-dried cloth.
Never had she reclined so luxuriously, never had she released tension so completely.
Lying still, she turned only her head, slowly surveying the room.
A long Vase with gilded ornament; an unusual-patterned Carpet laid lengthwise across the floor.
Swords and spears hung on the walls; the room was adorned with sculptures sent as tribute from distant lands and all manner of treasures—a space incomparably finer than any room she had occupied before.
Aya quietly pinched the inside of her arm.
‘This is no dream.’
Stirring herself upright, Aya turned her head toward the window.
Through the large, tall window, she could see beyond the fortress walls.
The sun sinking below the horizon cried out in crimson song.
Aya gazed, entranced, at the world beyond the window, drenched in light.
Perhaps it was simply because her mood was so light.
Humming an old song she had not sung in recent days, she swayed her head slowly.
Aya created sound using the vibration of her throat.
And she hummed, very softly.
She’d sung quite well as a child, or so it seemed, but ever since her tongue was severed, every sound that escaped her mouth had been pitiful.
Aya didn’t finish the song, cutting it short before she stopped altogether.
That was when she heard the knock at the door.
Knock-knock.
“My lady, His Majesty has eaten,” came a voice.
It was Nahal.
Aya jerked upright instantly.
She checked her appearance and was about to swing down from the bed when he stepped into the room ahead of her.
He wore only a light tunic cinched with a belt, yet as always, he looked immaculate.
Her admiration was brief. As he approached, Nahal’s brow furrowed as though something displeased him.
“Please, remain as you are. You are still a patient,” he said firmly.
Aya had reached for the bedpost to rise, but Nahal’s tone stopped her cold.
He looped one arm around her waist as she half-lifted herself, then lowered her back onto the bed with unhurried grace.
Every motion flowed as naturally as water, and Aya trembled at the sudden closeness of him.
She caught her breath.
When she looked up at him, his face bore its usual impassive mask.
‘When did we become so close?’
Aya blinked rapidly.
Nahal, oblivious to her gaze, pressed gently on her shoulders to settle her back against the pillows, then drew the blanket up to her chin.
He then fetched a chair and sat beside the bed.
“The physician and attendants told me your fever had broken,” he said, his voice level.
He studied the color of her face as she lay propped up, then reached out and placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature himself.
Aya flinched, pulling away slightly without thinking.
‘Was he always like this?’
There had clearly been a wall between them, yet somehow it had crumbled without her noticing.
Unlike Aya, who was flustered by Nahal’s sudden intimacy, he seemed satisfied once he’d confirmed her fever was gone, nodding with obvious relief.
Then he looked slowly around the room as though searching for something.
The entire chamber was suffused with the deep amber glow of sunset.
“You’ve been alone,” he said—not a question, not quite an assertion, but something that sounded almost wistful.
Aya nodded in response.
“Were you singing?” he asked.
Embarrassed, she realized he must have heard her humming.
Aya nodded slowly.
A shadow passed over Nahal’s composed face.
Now that she thought about it, she had seen him wear that expression before.
It was when she had hummed carelessly in the Garden.
When she’d turned and found him there, his face had held that very look.
‘What does he dislike?’
Does he object to something?
My singing?
Or me?
It didn’t take long for speculation to curdle into self-recrimination.
She’d thought herself accustomed to failing to earn others’ favor, but with Nahal it felt different—painfully so.
She didn’t want him to dislike her, not even a little.
Aya let her eyes drift sideways, searching his face for clues.
Nahal sat in silence for a long moment before he slowly began to speak.
“Perhaps…,” he started.
As he turned his head, sunlight poured across his face.
In that light, she could see the sharp lines of his profile with perfect clarity—his cheekbones, his features, the bright gleam of his eyes between slightly furrowed lids.
He was beautiful as a rare jewel.
Her gaze faltered at the sight, and without thinking, she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
‘A veil, a veil.’
Unconsciously seeking one, her fingers fumbled across her cheekbones.
There was nothing covering her face.
She feared that this radiant man would see her plain, unremarkable self and be disappointed.
Aya waited for him to finish his thought.
Unwelcome possibilities flickered through her mind in rapid succession.
She was anxious.
As Nahal’s silence stretched, his words still unformed, her heart began to pound roughly against her ribs.
Her clenched fists dug crescents into her palms.
She feared being cast aside by him.
“Have you ever stayed at the Temple?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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