The Tyrant's Queen

36: some discomfort

How badly was Lucien burnt? What did 'mild burn' mean?

Was it on his left leg, or on his right leg- which was already damaged beyond repair? How badly had he hit his head?

The questions, without answers, refused to leave Thalia, as she dipped a towel into a tub of ice water, and dabbed it on Karlieus's temple.

Karlieus's broken arm had been wrapped up in a cast, and other than a few scratches on his arms and face from the rubble, he was unscathed.

A few men had died from the explosion- it was miracle Karlieus and Lucien were alive.

Lucien was lying in bed just a few steps away from this guest room, and he was still unconscious. She could just take a glimpse-

Groaning under his breath, Karlieus shifted in bed, the bed sheets rustling around him. It seemed he wanted to turn over, but his arm, wrapped in a cast, was preventing easy movement.

Given the opportunity to examine Karlieus's face openly, Thalia saw how it looked no different from when he was awake.

There was no frown on his face, and one could only say he was the picture of inscrutability most of the time.

Yet, there was some sort of a tension that perpetually marked his face, even now.

If there was one similarity between the two starkly different Karlieus and Lucien, it was that neither looked fully rested.

Lucien's wariness was flamboyantly concealed by his behavior as a drunkard. Karlieus', more discreetly by his propriety and reserve.

As she was dabbing cold sweat from Karlieus's forehead, Thalia paused.

She could no longer hide from the reason she was in this room, rather than Lucien's.

Realizing a tremor was going through her hand, Thalia withdrew the towel from Karlieus.

She was in such state of a disquietude.

It wasn't because of the injuries of this man before her who'd been nothing short of confidante and friend.

It was because of the man next door who was possibly responsible for her mother's death, and unequivocally responsible for her misery in this palace.

Feeling hot tears well up in her eyes, Thalia stifled a cry. She could deny it no longer- she was undeniably, appallingly, in love with Lucien.

And this very moment she came to recognize this nauseating fact, she made two promises to herself.

One, that she would strive to cease this warped, impossible love that would only subject her to further misery.

Two, that she would never betray her feelings in Lucien's presence.

As if the gods of Aesna were taunting her for the determination, just as she reached out to dab at Karlieus's forehead, just as she'd made those pitiable, mortifying promises to herself, Lucien opened the door.

~ * ~

Thalia had been crying.

Her warm brown eyes were now rimmed red and still moist with tears. The first time, she'd cried because of Letellia. Now, she was crying because of Karlieus.

"Sire," she winced suddenly, looking up at him.

His grip was still on Thalia's wrist. Removing his hand, Lucien took a step back. He was acutely cognizant of how unreasonable his bad mood was.

But he had no way of ascertaining what exactly this emotion was, or why it was possessing him.

"Why are you crying?" How pathetically was the question phrased?