The Forgotten Field - Chapter 101

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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 101
He felt his nerves coiling taut.
As he poured the herbal liquid drop by drop into the narrow, damp space, her flushed face contorted faintly. She clearly despised the taste of the potion.
Yet he could not empathize with what she felt. He could perceive the pungent grass scent that assaulted his nostrils and the bitter taste that stimulated his palate, but such sensations did not translate into displeasure for him.
Barcas repeatedly thrust his tongue into her tightly clenched mouth and withdrew it, pulling her trembling body closer.
She swallowed what pooled in her mouth and whimpered softly. Her ragged breathing dampened his throat.
He struggled to coil her tightly withdrawn tongue around his own, but when it did not yield to his will, he lifted his head.
Her face, disheveled from the unfamiliar act, came into view.
Suddenly, something sharp scraped down his spine.
He pressed down on her swollen lower lip with his thumb, forcibly parting her jaw. Then, inhaling her ragged breath flowing from the moist opening, he spoke roughly.
“Stick your tongue out.”
Her glistening eyes wavered with anxiety.
He pushed his finger inside her teeth and gently pressed down on her moist tongue.
A somewhat impatient voice escaped her.
“Hurry.”
The woman, looking up at him with confused eyes, slowly extended her tongue.
The moment he took it into his mouth and sucked gently, her fragile, emaciated body stiffened with shock.
He cupped the back of her rigid neck and tilted his head down further.
Her small tongue writhed tantalizingly. As it kept trying to escape, he pursued it relentlessly, wrapping his arm around her slender waist.
Beneath her thin garment, he felt delicate bones and soft curves.
Her body, visibly wasted over the past two seasons, seemed as though it might shatter with the slightest pressure. Seized by an inexplicable unease, he released the tongue he had been holding.
Transparent saliva trickled between her bruised crimson lips. As he licked it away, a voice tinged with tears reached his ears.
“Why….”
She looked up at him with eyes as though burning with fever.
“Why are you doing such a thing?”
He furrowed his brow.
He wanted to ask her the same question.
Why should this not be done?
They were husband and wife.
Even far more intimate acts would be unremarkable between them. He had simply refrained from demanding what he knew she did not wish for.
But you reached out your hand first.
Suppressing the urge to blame her thus, he gazed into her bewildering, unfathomable eyes.
Her gaze—mingled with confusion, wariness, and doubt—twisted something within him.
He slowly released his arms.
“If you dislike what I do, then stop provoking me from now on.”
The woman bit her lip and lowered her gaze.
Her crooked mouth drew his attention once more. Mocking himself for it, he rose from the bed, when a tightly constrained voice grated against his nerves.
“Who, who said I disliked it?”
Barcas looked down at her with cold eyes.
She had made her demand as though retrieving something she had entrusted to him.
“I won’t cry anymore, so continue. There’s still medicine left.”
In that instant, a savage heat churned through his insides.
A sensation bordering on revulsion made him furrow his brow.
What on earth did this woman want from him?
“I wish you were in pain. So much pain.”
The words she’d muttered in a medicine-induced haze years ago flashed through his mind.
He’d dismissed them carelessly at the time. Even now, after more than a decade, the sting had never returned. He could no longer recall what pain had felt like.
Yet the thought struck him—perhaps what he felt now came perilously close to suffering.
“If you hate it, then leave.”
Unable to bear the lengthening silence, Talia shoved against his chest.
He seized that hand and dragged her impossibly light frame onto his lap. Her body, rigid with tension, melted into compliance.
He wound her silken hair around his fingers, his teeth grazing her damp lips.
She was a woman who needed to destroy everything—others and herself alike—to find satisfaction.
From the moment he’d claimed her as his responsibility, he’d known his orderly world would crumble.
Barcas closed his eyes, feeling a heat that seemed to crush his very organs.
It was like swallowing poison.
* * *
The journey proceeded smoothly.
They visited the major territories of the Northeast Region, then moved southward to tour several commercial districts.
For a time, grand vistas of sprawling cities unfolded in succession, each boasting a scale that left one awestruck, followed by the fervent welcomes of wealthy merchants and nobility.
Yet none of it captured her heart. Her mind was consumed entirely by confusion.
Talia gazed out the window, her lips tingling as she traced them absently.
Barcas’s figure appeared and disappeared among the orderly marching Knights.
Clad in black armor and sitting upright in the saddle, he looked every inch the stern lord. It was impossible to imagine him as the primal man who indulged in her lips every night.
Feeling her insides twist of their own accord, Talia drew the curtain shut. Yet even with her view blocked, the thoughts circling her mind refused to cease.
She found herself compulsively replaying the acts they’d repeated.
Barcas never initiated a kiss without her request. Yet he didn’t seem to be merely complying. He would persistently continue kissing her until she reached her limit and writhed. Sometimes it felt as though he wanted it more.
But when she grew frightened by the contact deepening beyond what she could bear and pushed him away, Barcas would withdraw without protest, his expression serene. In those moments, everything felt like her own overinterpretation.
Talia habitually worked her lips together, then winced at the sharp sting. When she touched them with her fingertips, a faint smear of blood came away.
She couldn’t tell if the wound was her own doing or Barcas’s. Lately, he’d been tormenting her lips more frequently.
As Talia fiddled with her bruised lips and closed her eyes, intending to take a nap to clear her muddled mind, the Carriage that had been running without pause suddenly stopped.
“We’ve arrived. Please step out.”
A gruff voice carried through the window.
Talia straightened her disheveled clothes and stepped out of the Carriage.
Across the Wide Plain stood large conical Tents and dilapidated huts scattered sparsely. A sense of bewilderment washed over her at the modest landscape. Compared to the North with its stark wealth disparity, the Southern Region was generally prosperous, so it had been quite some time since she’d visited a Village.
“We plan to stay here for the night.”
The Young Cavalry Warrior whom Barcas had assigned as her escort approached and explained.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but please bear with us for just one day.”
Talia walked on without responding.
Barcas was conversing with a man who appeared to be the Village administrator. As she stared at him absently, Barcas gestured to her with a nod.
Talia approached him cautiously. As she drew near, Barcas placed a hand upon her shoulder and addressed the administrator in a businesslike tone.
“We intend to establish our own tent separately, so you need only prepare quarters for my wife.”
Talia lifted her gaze toward him, her eyes wide with astonishment.
“What do you mean by that?”
“There will be a minor skirmish tonight, I believe.”

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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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