The Forgotten Field - Chapter 37

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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 37
Talia opened her mouth to protest, but no words came. She wanted to maintain her usual brazen composure, but both body and mind had reached their limits, leaving her thoughts sluggish and scattered.
She yanked the hood over her face to conceal the turmoil etched across her features, then attempted to slip past her brother blocking the entrance. But Gareth was faster, seizing her wrist in a vice-like grip.
“I asked why you were ransacking Barcas’s Barracks.”
“Let go!”
She thrashed her arm violently, but Gareth’s hand clung to her like glue, unyielding.
He wrenched her body toward him, growling like an enraged wolf.
“Tell me what scheme you were plotting!”
His grip was crushing, bone-deep, and Talia bit her lip against the pain.
Such a brutish fool, relying only on brute strength.
Without hesitation, she drove her heel into his shin. Apparently unarmed at the moment, Gareth yelped a curse and jumped back, hopping on one foot.
Seizing the opening, Talia wrenched her arm free and bolted from Barcas’s Barracks, sprinting with desperate speed.
Behind her, the sound of objects shattering erupted as Gareth gave chase. But Talia didn’t look back, weaving frantically between tent after tent.
Her carriage soon came into view. She hurled herself inside, locked the door firmly behind her, and huddled in the corner, trembling.
She dreaded the thought of Gareth, burning with rage, smashing the carriage to pieces. Yet after a long silence, no commotion arose. It seemed he had abandoned the pursuit, likely deterred by the watchful eyes of those around them.
Talia exhaled in relief, burying her face in her knees. Then, suddenly gripped by self-loathing, her expression twisted. She despised herself for acting like a complete fool.
Why had she lost her composure and shown concern for his safety? The fact that Gareth had witnessed her emotional turmoil gnawed at her.
Surely he hadn’t noticed anything suspicious?
Talia gnawed at her lip anxiously before carefully peering out the window.
The Knights were dismantling the barracks. They didn’t seem to have noticed the disturbance she’d caused.
With her face pressed against the glass, eyes darting about, Talia finally drew the curtains closed.
As the sky brightened, the Knights mounted their horses and began forming ranks. Among them was Barcas. Talia watched him through a gap in the curtains as he inspected the formation, but when he approached her carriage, she hastily concealed herself.
Had Gareth told him something? Was he coming to interrogate her?
She scrambled through various excuses in her mind, but Barcas, having halted near the carriage, simply issued orders to the Knights before returning to the front of the column.
Talia’s shoulders sagged with relief. Then, a Guard Knight’s booming voice rang out.
“We shall depart shortly, Your Highness.”
She made no reply. He hadn’t expected one anyway, for the Knight simply urged his horse forward without another word. Soon after, her carriage began to move.
Talia lay back against the seat, gazing up at the sky turning pale through the curtain gap. It seemed another tedious day was beginning, with nothing resolved.
The march that had begun at dawn came to a halt before the sun had even begun its descent.
Gareth, whose patience had reached its breaking point, unilaterally declared they would advance no further today.
Strictly speaking, the itinerary of this journey fell under the authority of Barcas, the supreme commander. Yet few dared defy the orders of the future Emperor.
Consequently, with Barcas’s tacit consent, they were forced to establish a campsite on the barren plain, with Ulgram Hill, the second sacred site, tantalizingly close.
The soldiers, eager to escape the plains as quickly as possible, seemed displeased with the situation. But for Talia, it was a blessing. She had spent the entire day confined in a swaying carriage without proper food or rest, and her strength had utterly depleted.
She lay sprawled across the carriage seat, her eyes fluttering weakly.
Then, a tiresome voice called from outside.
“Your Highness, I’ve brought some fruit for you.”
Talia’s brow furrowed. It was incomprehensible that the Knight would meddle again after receiving such a rebuff yesterday.
There had to be some ulterior motive; otherwise, why would he fawn over her so persistently?
She responded coldly.
“Get lost.”
“If you’re worried about what might be in the food, then surely fresh, unprocessed fruit would be acceptable?”
She couldn’t be bothered to respond and simply closed her mouth. At that, the Knight rudely thrust open the carriage door and thrust a tray of fruit directly before her.
“I’m genuinely concerned this will turn into a funeral procession. Please, stop being so stubborn and eat something.”
She glared at him with an exasperated expression before lowering her gaze to the silver tray. Rosy apples, plums, and green grapes lay arranged upon it.
Talia stared down at them for a moment, then muttered in a hollow voice devoid of anger.
“How am I supposed to know if you’ve poisoned the skin?”
At this point, most would have given up, but the Knight didn’t budge. He exhaled a heavy sigh, picked up an apple from the tray, took a large bite, and thrust the apple—now bearing his teeth marks—toward her.
“Is this sufficient?”
“Are you seriously asking me to eat something you’ve already bitten? That’s disgusting. Get that away from me!”
The Knight looked as though he wanted to strangle her. Regardless, Talia turned away. The truth was she was ravenously hungry, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat food touched by another’s hands. Even if she forced it down, she’d only vomit it all back up.
“That’s enough. Stop pestering me and please, just leave.”
“Is ‘leave’ the only word Your Highness knows how to say?”
His increasingly overstepping behavior and words ignited a surge of irritation within her.
Talia shot to her feet. A brief wave of dizziness washed over her, but refusing to appear weak, she steadied herself and pushed through it.
As her vision cleared, she ignored the Knight’s watchful gaze and stepped out of the carriage.
The sky had transformed from deep blue to a pale orange. After gazing at it for a moment, Talia moved toward the edge of the Campsite, evading the lingering stares directed at her.
She wanted to find a quiet place where no one else was and rest peacefully. But if she strayed from the group, the Knights would surely follow.
After a moment’s deliberation, Talia headed toward the Dense Forest, positioned at a slight distance from where the supply carriages were stationed.
At this distance, they could still keep her in sight, so they wouldn’t hover about under the pretense of protection.
Talia leaned her back against the Large Tree and breathed in the cool evening air deeply. She had been sitting there for some time when she heard faint laughter nearby.
Talia’s eyes snapped open. It seemed she wasn’t the only one seeking out a secluded place for rest—between the scattered spruce trees, Aila moved with leisurely steps.
Talia’s face contorted.
Her mind and body were utterly exhausted. She couldn’t possibly endure seeing that blissful expression on Aila’s face.
She rose abruptly to leave, but as she did, another figure hidden behind a tree came into view.
It was the man who, just this morning, had made her pray for nothing but his survival.
Talia stared at him with vacant eyes. Barcas, holding Torque’s reins in one hand and quietly following Aila, appeared more serene than ever before.
Having grown weary of his cold expressions and furrowed brows, his peaceful face felt unfamiliar to her.
Did he always wear such an expression in front of Aila?
As she gazed blankly at him, Aila tugged at Barcas’s arm, rose onto her toes, and tilted her head upward. Talia held her breath, understanding what Aila was asking for.
She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to witness a scene that would haunt her mind for the rest of her life, one she’d replay and agonize over endlessly.
Even as she screamed silently within, Talia couldn’t tear her gaze away from the two of them. Perhaps she wanted to see him coldly reject her. But Barcas responded to Aila’s desire like a faithful hound.
The moment Talia saw him lower his head toward Aila, she spun around and began to run. But she hadn’t gone far before someone grabbed her.
She lifted her eyes in shock. Gareth, his cheeks flushed as though he’d been drinking, gripped her arm and stared down at her intently.
Under his scrutinizing gaze, Talia hastily lowered her head. But it was already too late—he’d caught the moisture glistening in her eyes.
“You couldn’t possibly be….”
Gareth let out a hollow laugh and murmured.
Talia twisted her arm violently to escape his grip. But the Crown Prince didn’t budge.
As he gazed down at her face—still trembling with unresolved emotion—as though it were some rare spectacle, Gareth suddenly burst into laughter.
“So that’s what this is about?”

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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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