First and Last

Moonlight streamed through the windows of the imperial guest room. Theorad stood gazing out at the night, troubled.

The clear skies of the day had given way to a night crowded with stars, a sight so lovely it seemed a shame to enjoy it alone. Yet he could find little comfort in them.

What is Her Highness—no, Her Majesty the Emperor—thinking?

After the coronation festivities ended, Proban had approached him discreetly, waiting until Ashley and the elf were occupied elsewhere. Having glanced around to make certain no one could hear, the minister had whispered:

Her Majesty has something more to discuss with Viscount Theorad. I'll come to your guest room this evening to escort you. Please don't retire early.

What could Benelia want? Theorad had tried to consider every possibility without arriving at an answer. The unease in his chest had only grown heavier.

He doubted his instincts were warning him of anything pleasant.

God of light…

He clasped his hands, praying that his fears would prove unfounded.

Footsteps sounded outside. After a brief pause came a courteous knock.

“Viscount Theorad? It's Proban. I've come to escort you.”

The time had arrived. There was no point in pretending he could avoid a summons from the emperor.

“I'll be right there.”

Though this was to be a private audience, he was still meeting his sovereign. He straightened his clothes and adjusted the brooch at his throat before opening the door.

Proban stood outside with an affable smile. When stern, he could look like an exacting grandfather; when he smiled, his face was unexpectedly kind.

“Thank you for receiving me. I was almost worried you might refuse.”

“Please don't tease me. How could I refuse Her Majesty's command?”

“Quite so. But allow me to introduce myself again. I am Proban, the Empire's new military minister and commander of the Dawning Steps.”

The title was different from the one he had held earlier that day. Noticing Theorad's surprise, Proban explained.

“When Her Majesty ascended the throne, her former office became vacant, and I was appointed in her place. A promotion, you might say. Though perhaps captain of her personal guard would be more accurate now. The Dawning Steps are to serve as the emperor's own protectors.”

“Then congratulations on your promotion.”

“Haha, thank you. Though my good fortune is small compared with the honor that may be waiting for you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Her Majesty can tell you herself. We'd best be on our way.”

Theorad fell into step beside him, and they walked through the imperial palace's long, magnificent corridors.

Paintings and costly ornaments covered the walls. Every passing guard saluted. The attention made Theorad uneasy, though he returned each greeting as politely as he could.

After a while, Proban spoke again.

“Viscount Theorad, what do you think of Her Majesty?”

The question was unexpected, but his answer came readily.

“She understands justice and duty, and she has a keen sense of what her people need. She honors courage rather than treating it as a decoration. When she believes something must be done, she sees it through. I consider her a remarkable leader.”

There was no trace of calculated flattery in his voice. Proban listened with satisfaction, although he had hoped to hear something different from an exemplary vassal's praise of his ruler.

“That's very nearly the answer I wanted. But I'd ask you to consider Her Majesty from a more personal perspective.”

“A personal perspective?”

“She endured hardships beyond imagining as she grew up. Whenever I think of what she suffered, I can't help regretting that no one did more for her.”

Proban remembered first meeting Benelia after agreeing to join the Dawning Steps.

She had been only fifteen. Yet when the girl looked at him across her desk, he felt an almost physical chill. Her golden eyes held none of the unguarded innocence he expected of someone so young. There was only exhaustion with the world, tightly contained fury, and a determination to reach her goal whatever it cost.

“Not once did I see her smile in all the years that followed,” he said. “I told jokes, even brought her fine jewelry. Nothing pleased her. But lately she's changed.”

He glanced at Theorad with a knowing smile.

“Now she laughs. She even teases people. Yesterday, when she tried on the golden robe for her coronation, she asked me whether it suited her. Who do you suppose she was hoping would think so?”

Theorad did not answer. Whatever Proban meant to imply, it was too delicate a question to meet casually.

Realizing the discomfort he had caused, Proban cleared his throat.

“Of course, that's merely my own impression. I hope you'll continue to be on good terms with Her Majesty, nothing more. Don't let an old man's hopes trouble you.”

“…I understand.”

Theorad was far from certain he did.

While he was still turning the exchange over in his mind, they reached a pair of imposing doors guarded by knights. Proban knocked.

“Your Majesty. Proban Otaflet requests an audience. I've brought Viscount Theorad, as you instructed.”

The great doors swung open at once, moved by Benelia's telekinesis.

She sat in an elegant chair with her back to them. A small table beside her held a bottle of fine wine and two glasses.

“Go in, Viscount.”

Proban gave him a gentle nudge forward. Theorad entered the emperor's private bedchamber, and the doors closed behind him.

The sound heightened his anxiety. Benelia showed no sign of noticing it. A light breeze stirred the delicate curtains as she gazed toward the open terrace and the star-filled sky.

“I trust I'm not dealing with an idiot,” she said, without turning. “Have you forgotten how to greet your sovereign?”

Theorad hurried forward and bowed.

“Your Majesty, forgive my discourtesy—”

“Enough. You're still as stiff-necked as ever.”

She laughed softly and indicated the chair beside hers.

“Sit. I called you because I want to talk.”

“As Your Majesty wishes.”

The chairs faced the terrace. As Theorad sat, he finally had a clear view of Benelia.

She was wearing a simple, loosely draped dress rather than her familiar uniform. The change surprised him. The exposed line of her legs and the soft curve of her figure made him blush, and he quickly looked away.

Above the terrace, constellations glittered across the darkness.

“Do you know their names?” Benelia asked.

“A few. I can find my way by the Autumn Square, but I don't know much astronomy.”

“Neither do I. I never cared for scholars droning on about them. But I did love looking at the stars when I was a child.”

Her expression softened.

“No matter how the seasons changed, how many years passed, or how much blood was shed below, the stars remained. Even when one disappeared from sight, it wasn't necessarily gone.”

When she hid from Leonhard in the palace attic, she had spent countless nights watching those distant lights. In their persistence she had found a promise. She wanted to survive as they seemed to survive.

The memory of a frightened little girl with her hands clasped tightly in prayer returned to her. For once, it felt like a memory rather than a nightmare.

“I wanted to live,” she said. “To survive, somehow, and see the world for myself. That desire brought me here.”

Her father was confined. Her rivals had been swept aside. Leonhard had been executed while being taken into exile, and the remaining members of the imperial family had been politically isolated. Benelia had gathered power into her own hands to prevent the plots that had tormented her from taking root again.

Some called her a usurper. Not everyone shared the enthusiasm of those who celebrated her rule.

She knew it and did not pretend otherwise. If she were returned to her childhood, she suspected she would still take the same road. A palace governed by schemes had taught her that survival meant crushing those who meant to crush her.

“That girl who trembled and prayed to survive has become emperor,” Benelia said. “Perhaps I've become the star I wanted to be. Yet now that I no longer have to fight simply to stay alive, I've discovered I want something else.”

There was a trace of bitterness in her smile.

Theorad turned toward her. She met his eyes. Moonlight brightened their gold.

“I've thought about the way I feel when I'm with you. I've denied it and tried to put it aside, but the feeling won't obey me.”

Love, once kindled, was not easily extinguished. Benelia had spent so long resisting that she could no longer pretend not to recognize it.

“Theorad Deharem.”

Her voice trembled. She held his bewildered gaze and spoke plainly.

“I think I've fallen in love with you.”