Even If Everyone Else Denies Me (3)

Theorad and Benelia had scarcely entered the villa when they encountered Roylen.

Roylen had been waiting anxiously near the entrance. At the sight of them both drenched, he nearly lost his composure.

“Your Highness! Why did you come through such rain? Have you caught cold? We must get you dry at once!”

He turned about, unsure what to do first.

“I'll gather the servants! Someone bring towels! No, we should heat the baths. You both need to warm yourselves!”

His frantic concern made Theorad smile. Benelia frowned at the fuss, apparently displeased, though she offered no objection.

Roylen eventually saw to their baths and directed them to the drawing room for a private conversation.

Benelia arrived first. By the time Theorad entered, she was already seated at the table in a long-sleeved shirt and white cotton trousers that Roylen had prepared, quietly sipping wine.

“…”

“Hmm?”

Benelia sensed someone enter and looked up. Their eyes met. Theorad bowed from several paces away.

“My apologies for keeping Your Highness waiting.”

“I haven't waited long. Come, sit.”

“As you wish.”

He pulled out a chair at the table. Benelia regarded him thoughtfully.

“There are many things I'd like to ask you. May I?”

“How could I refuse Your Highness? Please ask whatever you wish.”

“Good. First, let's have a drink before we begin. Raise your glass.”

Theorad glanced down at the wine before him. He disliked drinking, but refusing a glass offered by the princess herself would be discourteous.

“Thank you.”

He drank it and set the glass down. Benelia gave a faint smile, took half a glass herself, and watched the crimson surface grow still.

“Theorad Deharem. You died, didn't you?”

“…You're not mistaken.”

“Then how is it possible that you're sitting before me now?”

Her voice sharpened, filling the room with a pressure that was difficult to withstand.

The princess possessed the commanding presence of one born to rule. Under that gaze, Theorad decided he could only speak as truthfully as he could.

“I understand your doubts. But I'm no doppelganger, and no one is impersonating me.”

“I know. A creature of that kind would have lost its disguise in the rain, and an ordinary impersonation wouldn't have escaped my notice. Which means you truly died and somehow came back. How?”

“I can't explain the details. It seems to have been a magical phenomenon.”

“Can't explain…”

It might have sounded insolent, but Benelia understood. Mages guarded the workings of their magic as fiercely as their lives. To expose a closely held technique was to expose themselves.

She knew no established magic that could revive the dead. Still, Theorad had independently developed something as extraordinary as artificial rain; perhaps he had touched another form of magic no one understood.

“If you can't tell me, I won't press you. My next question is closer to a request.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“War is coming. You know that.”

“I do. What would you ask of me?”

Benelia paused.

“I'll be frank. I intend to overthrow the Empire during this war. And I want to use the artificial-rain magic you developed as a weapon.”

Theorad's hands trembled. Each revelation was more startling than the last.

At length, he found his voice.

“May I ask why?”

“To live. So that I can survive—and so that everyone in the Empire might have a better life.”

“Are you certain this is the right way?”

“You know what the Empire has become. Do you really think it can avoid collapse unless someone brings about a revolution?”

Theorad could not answer immediately. The silence weighed on them both. Benelia was not comfortable saying any of this, but she had long known that she would eventually have to tell him.

“I won't pretend it can be bloodless. Innocent people may die. But the blood shed in my revolution will be far less than the blood His Majesty's course would cost.”

“…And if I refuse to let you use my magic?”

“Then I won't use it. One piece missing from the board won't make the revolution impossible.”

Theorad let out a slow breath.

He had devised artificial rain from the simple wish to make others happy. Never had he intended it as a weapon of war. He could not accept her request lightly.

Yet refusal might disrupt her plans, and a failed attempt could cost more lives than cooperation. Theorad weighed that danger with evident pain.

“…I'll cooperate.”

He saw no better course. But one part of her explanation still troubled him.

“Your Highness, when you said you needed to overthrow the Empire in order to live…”

“I meant exactly that. Whether this war ends in victory or defeat, I'll die if nothing changes.”

If the demons of the Demon Realm were crushed by the imperial advance, the emperor's authority would only grow. Prince Leonhard, eager for the throne, would move against his elder brother and remove anyone who might threaten his claim. Benelia would be among his targets.

If instead the demons repelled the Empire, the ministers would secretly approach the Kingdom of Agela and the Republic of Isbald. A weakened Empire could be carved apart, and the ministers, secured by foreign influence, would first dispose of Benelia and the military power she commanded independently.

“So this is a revolution for my own survival.”

Survival was something Benelia had been denied almost since birth. The stigma attached to her birth had followed her everywhere. Her own relatives looked upon her with contempt, no matter what she achieved.

“My second brother tried again and again to kill me. He couldn't stand the thought of someone he considered illegitimate excelling where he did not. In a way, it was a clever calculation: eliminate a possible rival before she could grow powerful.”

Her childhood in the palace had been a kind of hell. Poisoning and assassination attempts were common. She had never known which servant might suddenly turn against her.

On weekends Benelia hid at a monastery. During the week she secretly practiced swordsmanship among the knights. When fear kept her awake, she abandoned her comfortable bed for a cramped attic, and before meals she went to the kitchen to watch the food being prepared.

“My father knew what my brother was doing and stood aside. I think, deep down, he wanted me dead. Whenever we met, he looked at me as if I were a mistake. So I learned to survive alone.”

For all the luxury of the palace, Benelia had wanted neither fine jewels nor splendid clothes. All she had ever wanted was to live without fearing death.

“You remember what you said at Count Pelgaroin's castle. You pitied me for volunteering for the army when I was only twelve.”

Benelia gave a bitter smile.

“I knew exactly what I was doing. A battlefield full of slaughter frightened me less than the imperial palace. Unless I won military achievements and gathered soldiers loyal to me, I knew someone would eventually kill me.”

“Your Highness…”

“It's the same now. Perhaps my noble cause of making the Empire more just is only a way of concealing something uglier. Deep down, I want to survive. I want to keep living in this world.”

An ordinary person's unquestioned right to live was a privilege Benelia had never been able to take for granted, despite being born in the most magnificent palace in the Empire.

“And I know the revolution may fail. I trust my people, but betrayal can come from anywhere. If I lose, I'll die. My second brother won't let me go quietly. It will be a painful, humiliating end.”

Benelia emptied the rest of her wine. The red liquid shone briefly on her lips before she put down the glass and leaned back.

“History will call me a usurper. People will mock me as incompetent and selfish. Everyone will condemn me.”

Theorad listened without interrupting.

“I thought about dying with no one left who understood me, and suddenly I was terrified. But I feel a little more at ease now.”

Her golden eyes softened.

“Theorad Deharem. If you hear that I've died during the war, take your fiancée and go at once to the port of Palengar. At the docks, someone will recognize you. Follow that person's directions and board the ship.”

“Your Highness, what are you saying…?”

“Listen until I'm finished. The ship will take you to Yebrinus, a neutral trading city beyond the Empire's reach. At Carastane Bank, I've deposited a substantial sum of gold in your fiancée's name. You'll have more than enough to begin again.”

She spoke of her possible death with unnerving calm. It was not because she had abandoned hope of winning. She wanted to save at least a few people if the worst came. Theorad mattered to her in a way most others did not: he had seen the suffering behind her title and had not turned away.

“When you've settled in Yebrinus, married, and had children, tell them who I was. Benelia von Esteban wasn't some wicked usurper…”

A mischievous smile crossed Benelia's face as she regarded the bewildered Theorad.

“She was a proud lion who chose to fight for her life.”