Afterstory: The Warmest Winter in the World (13)
From early morning, the imperial palace was in an uproar.
Emperor Benelia had announced that she would be going out. Although the household had known of her plans for several days, an imperial excursion required the palace staff and guards to attend to a bewildering number of details.
Roylen, the senior Mage Tower professor who had been giving the emperor private lessons, was hurrying through the halls as well.
“Has Her Majesty risen yet?”
The protocol officer walking beside Roylen nodded.
“Yes. In fact, I believe she was awake at dawn.”
“At dawn…”
For someone ordinarily capable of sleeping soundly even before a gathering of foreign sovereigns, rising so early was unusual.
“…Her Majesty must be nervous,” Roylen murmured.
“Nervous? Surely not. That isn't like Her Majesty at all.”
The officer could hardly imagine the iron-blooded emperor losing sleep over a banquet.
Roylen knew better. But the reason was the emperor's private concern, not something to share with a member of the protocol staff. He merely gave a vague nod and walked on.
At Benelia's door, he straightened his clothes and knocked.
“Your Majesty. Roylen, senior professor of the Mage Tower. I've come with the protocol officer to help you prepare for your departure.”
After a pause, a soft voice answered from within.
“Have the officer wait outside. Only the senior professor may enter.”
The officer looked perplexed, but obeyed. Roylen checked his appearance once more and went inside.
The first thing he noticed was the white curtains framing the terrace. They billowed in the breeze, making the room seem strangely peaceful.
Between the curtains stood an easel bearing a portrait. Painting materials lay scattered across the floor.
“Your Majesty, painting is a fine way to spend your time, but you should at least put your supplies away afterward…”
Roylen bent to gather them, then stopped.
The figure in the oil portrait was unmistakably Theorad Deharem. He faced forward with a gentle smile, dressed not as a nobleman, but in the formal uniform of an imperial household butler.
“Roylen. Who told you that you could steal someone else's painting?”
The sharp voice made him straighten at once.
Benelia sat at an elaborate dressing table, her posture flawless. She wore a simple white garment, and her reflection in the mirror looked as composed as ever.
Roylen approached, still slightly startled.
“Well?”
She sounded displeased.
“Why aren't you answering?”
“Your Majesty?”
“I asked why you stole my painting.”
It was sitting in plain sight on the terrace. How can looking at it be a crime?
He couldn't say that, of course. As he searched for an answer, he noticed a faint flush on the emperor's face.
Ah. She painted it at dawn and forgot to put it away.
She was mortified that he had discovered the portrait. The realization was so unlike the stern, unfaltering Benelia he knew that Roylen smiled before he could stop himself.
“What's so amusing? Do you wish to die?”
“Not at all, Your Majesty. I was admiring the quality of your painting, nothing more. I certainly wasn't trying to steal it.”
“Hmph…”
Her cheeks grew redder. Roylen decided it would be unwise to mention the painting again.
“More importantly, Your Majesty, you summoned me. What can I do for you?”
At last Benelia relaxed. Looking at herself in the mirror, she spoke with surprising hesitation.
“Makeup…”
“Pardon?”
“I'd like to wear makeup today.”
Roylen stared.
Benelia had never devoted much attention to adornment. On the rare occasions she wore cosmetics, she kept them plain. He had certainly never heard her request them.
“Oh, and another thing,” she added.
She turned toward him.
“I'd like a dress. It has been a long time since I attended a banquet dressed properly for the occasion.”
Roylen's eyes widened even further.
Her Majesty wore military uniform to almost every official function, including banquets hosted at her own palace. A request for an evening dress was unprecedented.
“Are you making fun of me?” Benelia demanded, scowling at his expression.
“N-no, Your Majesty. I'm only surprised…”
He truly had meant no disrespect. Nevertheless, an imperial request was an imperial request. Roylen regained his composure and bowed.
“I'll summon the protocol officer and the palace attendants at once. They'll see to everything.”
“Good. I've promised to meet Count Ashley at noon. Tell them to make haste.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Roylen departed, closing the door behind him.
Alone again, Benelia stared into the mirror. Her golden eyes had grown distant.
“Benelia von Esteban.”
She spoke her own name quietly, as though addressing a stranger.
“If this love ends only in farewell and pain… will you be able to bear it?”
The reflection offered no answer.
Time passed.
At Deharem Mansion, two children burst into Theorad's office with Beynon close behind.
“Daddy, aren't you coming?”
“Dad! Come with us!”
Roselia and Raylin gazed up at him pleadingly. He wanted to go to the Pelgaroin villa with them, but there was still work on his desk.
“Raylin. Roselia.”
Theorad knelt and gently rested a hand on each child's head.
“I'll finish as quickly as I can. Will you go ahead to the villa and wait for me? You can manage that much, can't you?”
Neither looked pleased, but they listened.
“…All right. I'll wait for you there,” Roselia said.
“Me too! I'll be even better than my big sister!”
“Wh-what's that supposed to mean?”
Roselia shot Raylin an indignant look.
If Ashley and Linea had grown up together, perhaps they would have been like this.
The two were as endearing as kittens squabbling over nothing. Theorad smiled and patted their heads again.
“Now, now. No fighting. Be kind to each other.”
Then he rose and turned to the knight.
“Beynon, take them to the villa first.”
“Yes, young master. But are you certain you won't come with us?”
“I'll join you as soon as I finish. Even on my birthday, I can't neglect my duties. By the way, my wives…”
“They left for the castle early this morning.”
“So early? I understand Ashley having work there, but why did Linea go?”
“I'm not sure. Her Majesty the Emperor called for a meeting at noon. I haven't been told what it's about.”
“Her Majesty?”
Theorad knew Benelia was expected at his birthday banquet. But why would she summon Ashley and Linea before the festivities even began?
He had an uneasy suspicion, though he couldn't be sure. Following it any further seemed likely to lead nowhere useful.
“Very well. Go on ahead. I'll follow as soon as I'm done.”
“As you wish, young master.”
Beynon left with the children. Theorad kept waving until the door closed behind them.
There's not much left. If I finish quickly, I should still reach the banquet in time.
He sat up straight, took his quill, and began writing. Only the scratch of its nib disturbed the empty room.
When a letter was done, he folded it neatly into an envelope, melted sealing wax over a candle, and impressed the Deharem family seal upon it. He repeated the task until the remaining correspondence was complete.
Finally, he extinguished the candle, put on the overcoat hanging from his chair, and left.
Tap, tap.
His footsteps echoed in the familiar corridor. Glancing out of a window, he saw stars filling the evening sky. Their unusually brilliant light seemed almost to banish the darkness from the hall.
An excellent night for a banquet.
He quickened his pace to the front entrance and turned the handle.
But the moment he opened the door and stepped forward, he stopped.
“…”
A woman stood outside with her back to him.
Her dark hair, threaded with gray, was gathered into an elegant knot, leaving her back and waist visible above the dress she wore.
He thought he recognized her even before she turned.
After a moment's hesitation, Theorad found his voice.
“…Your Majesty?”
Her shoulders twitched. She drew a deep breath, then slowly faced him.
Her lashes appeared longer than usual, framing anxious golden eyes. Her lips were a darker shade, her complexion subtly brightened.
Makeup. It was unmistakable, though carefully applied.
But more than that…
She wore a pure-white evening gown, lavishly trimmed and cut to reveal her shoulders. It suited her perfectly: splendid enough for the emperor, yet graceful in a way he had never seen.
For as long as he had known her, Benelia had appeared in uniform. The sight of her in a dress left him speechless.
An awkward silence lengthened between them.
Benelia clenched her hands, inhaled, and raised her eyes to meet his.
“…It's been a while.”
She smiled faintly, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.
“Viscount Theorad.”