First and Last (2)

Theorad stood as though turned to stone.

Benelia's confession was the last thing he had expected from the woman who had just become emperor. He swallowed and tried to gather his thoughts.

“What you just said…”

He wanted to suggest she had misunderstood her own feelings. But the steady, luminous look in her eyes made that evasion impossible.

The words died on his lips. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Benelia seemed to have anticipated his reaction. With a faint, self-conscious laugh, she picked up the wine bottle.

“Let's have a drink. I intend to say what I came to say, even if I need a little courage from wine to do it. Here.”

He held out his glass in both hands. Refusing a drink poured by the emperor herself was no simple thing. Benelia filled it, using magic to keep the glass suspended as she poured.

“Before we drink, there's something you should know.”

She filled her own glass.

“I've added a diluted witch's preparation called Simta. Taken undiluted, it magnifies the darker parts of one's nature. In a weaker mixture, it eases the burden of conscience for a while. I thought it might help us speak openly.”

The last ripple in the glass settled. Benelia put down the bottle and raised her wine with a gesture less ceremonious than he was accustomed to seeing from her.

“I won't force you to drink it. If you don't wish to, leave it. I'll say what I need to say regardless.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I am here to listen.”

He could hardly leave her to drink alone. Though he did not care for alcohol, he emptied his glass in one swallow and suppressed a grimace with a cough.

Benelia chuckled and drank her own wine, too. She set down the empty glass, and for a time they both watched the night sky.

“I know you're uncomfortable,” she said softly. “You must be wondering how you're supposed to respond. I can hardly blame you. What sort of woman confesses her love to a man who's already engaged?”

“Your Majesty…”

“I won't deny that I'm selfish. I know perfectly well how wrong it is to put you in this position. But I would rather tell you the truth now than spend the rest of my life regretting my silence.”

She had chosen the pain of an honest confession over a lifetime of wondering what might have been.

“So I'll say it once more, Theorad Deharem. I love you.”

His kindness and his sense of responsibility had taken root in Benelia's heart more deeply than she had imagined. Had he been free, she might have offered him a place beside her in government—and perhaps something much more personal.

But he was not free. He loved Ashley.

Benelia could, in principle, use imperial power to bring him into her court. Yet House Pelgaroin would not accept it quietly. Other great houses dissatisfied with her new rule might seize the opportunity to rebel. A country she had only just stabilized could be plunged back into chaos.

Nor did she want to repay Ashley's help with a betrayal, or darken Theorad's face with unhappiness.

For all the power she wielded, there was a distance she could not bridge.

“Soon you'll be married to Ashley. After that, even a private conversation like this may be difficult. Our lives will follow different roads. Before that happens, may I ask you for one selfish favor?”

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Something simple to say. Harder to ask.”

She looked away from the stars, hesitated, and drew a breath. A faint flush colored her cheeks.

“Hold me. After tonight, I won't have another chance.”

Theorad went pale.

He had barely recovered from her confession. This request left him desperate for a glass of water, but there was only the wine on the table. Sweat chilled his back as he bowed his head.

“Your Majesty. Surely you're teasing me.”

“Do I look as though I'm joking?”

“Even if you're sincere, it isn't something I can agree to.”

“Then tell me why.”

She watched him steadily, as if a lion were waiting for its prey to reveal a weakness. He knew he must not surrender his judgment simply because she held the throne.

He chose his words with care.

“As you yourself said, I have a fiancée. Whatever Your Majesty's station, I cannot simply be intimate with another woman.”

“Many noblemen summon prostitutes or enslaved women to their homes before marriage, claiming they need experience so they won't embarrass themselves before their brides. Society seldom censures them. Isn't that so?”

“…Your Majesty is neither a prostitute nor an enslaved woman.”

“That depends on how you choose to regard me. For one night, I'd even let you treat me as your sex slave.”

Theorad coughed repeatedly, unable to meet her eyes.

Benelia leaned forward, seemingly amused by his discomfort.

“What other reason do you have? I'd like to hear it.”

“There is another…”

Stay calm. Don't let her overwhelm you.

Theorad adjusted his brooch out of habit.

“As far as I know, Your Majesty has never been with a man. If you give up your virginity on a passing impulse, you may regret it when you eventually marry.”

“This isn't a passing impulse. I've considered it carefully. And I have no intention of marrying. I will remain unmarried for the rest of my life.”

“Your Majesty?”

He stared at her.

“How can you decide never to marry? You rule the Empire. Surely you must consider an heir. Without a settled succession, the country's future will be in constant danger.”

“Why must you imagine the Empire has only one possible future?”

Her tone hardened. Across the room, the white-lion standard hung behind her chair.

“Do you think that because I've overcome the corruption of this generation, a hereditary throne will stay uncorrupted forever? When I die and another dynasty of courtiers rises, the rot could return. Restoring a broken state is harder than bringing a dead person back to life.”

“But—”

“Enough. I intend to be the Empire's last emperor. When I'm gone, the people will govern themselves, checking and cooperating with one another rather than bending to a single bloodline.”

Benelia had lived amid the vicious rivalries of an imperial family that treated children as pieces on a political board. She would not bring a child of her own into that world. She was determined to root out the officials who had enriched themselves through corruption, and to leave behind a system that need not repeat their abuses.

“It won't be easy,” she said. “There'll be opposition. But if I believe it's right, I won't abandon it. Does that answer your objection?”

“…It does.”

Theorad did not know whether her vision could ever become reality, but he understood how fiercely she meant to pursue it. He found no easy response.

Benelia leaned forward with a small, victorious smile.

“Then your reasons for refusing me are growing scarce, Viscount.”

“Your Majesty, as your loyal subject, I must—”

“Shouldn't a loyal subject obey his emperor? Or is it simply that you don't find me attractive?”

“That's not it.”

“Then why keep refusing? There are men who would speak of raping the new emperor on coronation night as though it were the highest imaginable luxury.”

Theorad was not one of them. He had never considered pursuing women a measure of a man's worth. Nor did the rarity of this chance make it feel like a privilege. His discomfort only deepened.

At last, he looked directly into her golden eyes.

“My refusal isn't only about my circumstances or yours. It concerns my convictions. I cannot turn away from what I believe is right.”

“Your convictions,” Benelia repeated.

Her smile widened, as though he had finally given her the opening she wanted.

“Then I have a way around that. Remember your promise.”

Theorad drew a sharp breath. Before the revolution, he had agreed to grant Benelia one wish if she won the throne, so long as it was within his power.

“You can't honor a promise when it suits you and discard it when it doesn't,” she said. “Unless you mean to make a mockery of me, you'll stand by your word.”

Theorad went rigid. Benelia's expression softened into a youthful, mischievous smile, startlingly different from her imperial composure.

“So, Theorad Deharem. You have no choice but to hold me.”