Afterstory: The Warmest Winter in the World (6)

The next morning.

“Haah…”

Ashley had barely stepped into her office at Pelgaroin Castle before she let out a weary sigh.

Letters and documents were piled across her desk.

Everyone praised how prosperous the county had become. That prosperity was the result of Ashley taking her responsibilities as count seriously, but it had a less celebrated consequence: paperwork.

In peacetime, most of a ruler's duties seemed to be carried out with a pen. Every decision eventually found its way onto her desk.

And after a weekend at the Deharem mansion, there was always even more waiting for her.

I want to rest…

She took off her coat and hung it up.

If she could have done as she pleased, she would have stayed at the mansion all day. She wanted to lie beside Theorad, cook something delicious for Raylin and Roselia, and share tea with Linea.

But wanting something was not the same as being free to do it.

She was the Count of Pelgaroin, responsible for everyone who lived under her rule.

Get hold of yourself.

Ashley patted her cheeks, took her seat and began sorting through correspondence from across the Empire.

One envelope brought her hand to a halt.

A lion was pressed into the sealing wax. Beneath it, in elegant handwriting, was a familiar name.

Benelia von Esteban.

The meaning was obvious enough.

This was the fifth personal letter the emperor had sent her.

She hasn't forgotten a single year…

Ashley picked it up with a growing sense of unease.

The first one came…

Shortly after Linea returned to the mansion and married Theorad, a letter from Benelia had arrived at Pelgaroin Castle.

Its contents were every bit as direct as the emperor herself.

Benelia asked Ashley for permission to have an affair with Theorad.

Ashley had been furious. The newly crowned emperor appeared to think that, now she sat on the throne, she could simply claim someone else's husband.

She had written a forceful refusal, warning that House Pelgaroin would not stand idly by if Benelia continued in that manner.

The emperor had answered with an apology, explaining that her intention had not been to cause offense.

Ashley had hoped that would settle the matter.

Then another letter arrived the following winter.

After a year of silence, the head maid had brought her a new personal letter from the palace.

Ashley had opened it with a sinking heart.

Benelia was still asking permission for an affair with Theorad.

This time she offered conditions: she would not marry, and she would have no children of her own.

What sort of bargain was that?

Why would anyone surrender marriage and the possibility of a family merely to pursue another woman's husband?

If it were nothing more than desire, Benelia had no shortage of handsome men to choose from. She was the emperor, a woman with extraordinary wealth and power.

But Ashley had no intention of indulging her curiosity.

She sent another refusal.

And then…

As though winter itself had become the reminder, the letters continued.

Their language grew more deferential, but the request never changed.

By then Ashley had begun to wonder what, exactly, bound Benelia so tightly to Theorad.

She had asked her contacts throughout the Empire to investigate. They had found almost nothing—only that Benelia and Theorad had met at the Mage Tower years ago.

What could possibly have happened there?

Ashley had asked her husband indirectly.

He had given an awkward smile and insisted that nothing was wrong.

He must be hiding something.

Ashley still couldn't understand the emperor's attachment.

As far as the public knew, Benelia had taken no lover since coming of age. Monarchs from other nations had sought her hand, but she had shown no interest in them.

Ashley hated to admit it, but Benelia was beautiful, accomplished in both letters and arms, and possessed enough strength and charisma to attract suitors from everywhere.

She had rejected them all.

At public occasions, she had even declared that she was the mother of her people, and that the Empire itself was her spouse.

Someone so careful about her relationships…

Why, then, did she behave like a lovesick girl where Theorad was concerned?

The question only made Ashley's head hurt.

I don't know.

She opened a drawer and slipped the fifth letter inside, still unread.

It could wait. She had work to do, and reading another plea from Benelia would only disturb her peace of mind.

As she closed the drawer, her eyes settled on a small picture frame at the corner of the desk.

Inside was a drawing of their family that Raylin and Roselia had made together. The lines were uneven, and the colors didn't quite stay where they belonged.

It was the most precious picture in the room.

Ashley smiled despite herself.

How she wished she could go home and hold both children.

I envy you, Linea.

That morning, before leaving, she'd looked into Theorad's room and seen Linea sleeping peacefully with Roselia in her arms.

By now Linea would be awake, spending time with the children and enjoying their affection.

Of course, looking after the household had its own difficulties. But compared with sitting here beneath mountains of paperwork, it seemed a wonderful life.

Knock, knock.

Ashley straightened at once, smoothing away her wistful expression.

“Come in.”

The door opened.

A black-haired man entered, neatly dressed, his hair carefully arranged. A red brooch bearing his family's emblem gleamed against his clothes.

He walked to the center of the office and bowed with perfect formality.

“Your Excellency, Count.”

It was Theorad Deharem, seventh head of House Deharem, Count Ashley's deputy and husband.

She was proud of him.

That didn't mean she liked this particular habit of his.

“Theorad… You don't have to bow to your own wife.”

“Forgive me, but the person standing before me is the Count who governs Pelgaroin, before she is my wife.”

“Honestly. Must you be so formal? There's no one else here.”

“We should keep public duties separate from private matters. While you are at work, Count Ashley, you are my superior.”

He wasn't wrong.

Still, she sometimes wished he would simply act like her husband.

Then again, when they returned to the mansion, he always did.

“Very well. What brings you to my office?”

Theorad stepped forward and placed a set of documents on her desk.

They bore the signature of the president of Carastane Bank.

“This is an agreement to provide funding from Carastane Bank for welfare projects throughout Pelgaroin. Once you give your final seal, we can proceed.”

“…That serpent agreed to release his money?”

The bank president was famous for refusing any venture that could lose him a coin. Welfare work hardly seemed the sort of business he'd support.

Ashley studied the agreement.

There were no clauses that would disadvantage Pelgaroin. In fact, some of its terms seemed decidedly less favorable to the bank.

How had Theorad persuaded him?

Then a possible explanation occurred to her.

“Well done, Sir Theorad.”

Perhaps the bank president was buying goodwill—and widening his influence—by dealing with Theorad.

Her husband didn't seem to understand the reach of his own reputation. He had given immense sums to people in need throughout the Empire, often anonymously.

But donations on that scale couldn't remain secret forever. Carriage-loads of gold and silver were difficult to hide, even when the donor wished to go unnamed.

What a foolishly generous man.

Smiling to herself as she worked through the paperwork, Ashley looked up at him.

Those light-brown eyes of his, like an autumn field, seemed especially attractive today.

“Sir Theorad. Do you have other plans?”

“Not many. My schedule is fairly light today.”

“Good. Then could you help me with this? As you can see, there's rather too much for one person.”

Her desk was still buried under papers.

Theorad had insisted on keeping official business separate from their married life, but that didn't mean he wanted to watch her struggle.

“Of course. I'll help.”

He brought a chair to the desk and began sorting the documents.

Urgent and important matters went to the top. Private petitions and lower-priority papers were set aside so that Ashley could focus on the decisions only she could make.

An hour passed. Then two. Then three.

At last Ashley leaned back and stretched her stiff shoulders.

“Ugh…”

Theorad, meanwhile, was still working steadily through the pile.

The sight of him concentrating so earnestly was strangely appealing.

A mischievous idea came to her.

She leaned toward him until her lips were close to his ear, then gave it a light bite.

“…!”

Theorad stopped writing and turned sharply.

“Ashley?”

She didn't retreat. Instead, one slender hand settled on his thigh.

“Don't move,” she said, suppressing a giggle.

She met his startled gaze and smiled with deliberate mischief.

“Because that's an order from your superior.”