***

The Empress Dowager kept saying that he had grown thin. Then she laughed and added that we really were mother and son. She hadn’t laughed once since her husband’s death. To Atlion, this laughter seemed to have a touch of madness.

“Seeing how we’ve both gone mad together, it seems we really are mother and son, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer. His mother stared at him through the translucent black veil and continued.

“Your madness comes from your maternal grandfather. I’ve heard that there’s never been an emperor like you in Solerium, one who went mad, especially one who withered away for love like you.”

Mirabella, who had scolded her son mercilessly, turned her eyes to the window. The evening light was beginning to fade over Solam, a city that looked grand but lonely and desolate. Atlion, clad in armour, looked at the kneeling guards.

They were guards who had escaped the ambush. After dismissing them with no response to their pleas to take their heads, he turned to the Empress Dowager.

“Tell her you love her.”

Watching the lonely evening light, Mirabella turned her head to face Atlion.

“If you want her back, say so. That’s all women want. Your father said it just before he died, but I hope you won’t say it.”

“……”

“After all, you love her.”

Mirabella’s eyes narrowed, then she quickly wiped the expression from her face and replaced it with a smile.

“You don’t have to be like your father in such trivial matters. That stubbornness isn’t good. It’s not even manly.”

The little woman turned away. Atlion watched with a calm expression as the Empress Dowager left the bedroom before walking down the corridor. He remembered his late father’s words, whispered at the end of every conversation with her: “I’m tired of hearing about a woman’s love.”

They were lovers who had spent the night together. She had become pregnant after just one night, and his father hadn’t turned his back on her pregnancy. He said that was the end of it. He had accepted her as his wife and treated her with care. He claimed that talking about love was something only poets did.

And he was a knight. To a knight, a wife was someone to be cared for and loved in a detached, almost indifferent way. To Atlion, Swan was just that – someone to be cherished, but without the depth of what others might call love.

He walked down the corridor. The number of soldiers lined up was the same as during the first suppression of the La Mallack forces. Raoul followed, holding his helmet. Strangely, his mind wandered back to the Empress Dowager’s eyes, the eyes that had once turned away from him. Those sharp purple eyes he could no longer face after his father’s death.

Yet it all felt so fleeting. This confession – such a trivial thing. The scolding look in her eyes remained vivid in his memory.

He thought of Swan. In his mind, she was the woman who always looked at him with eyes that seemed to overflow with emotion at any moment. The woman who clung to his lips and his gaze. The woman who, with eyes clouded with desire, begged him for just one more thing.

He knew her. He knew what she wanted. What she had longed for so much that she had deceived and trapped him. And yet she never said that one word… His mouth twisted in pain, as if it would break. His breath grew heavy. He had been too hard on her.

“Your Majesty.”

Raoul called to him softly as he mounted his horse. His eyes were filled with the same pity one might have for a child abandoned on the shore. Atlion found it almost laughable – now even his own subordinates were treating him like a sick dog. He turned his head away.

“Perhaps you should leave the command to the lieutenant.”

“Do not insult me.”

Raoul’s face darkened. He had been a man who relied on his bed until the messenger arrived. It had all led to this. His wife had left him and there was no going back. Adelaide had once said that in the end it was all about m*n and women. Raoul agreed. There was no need to tie himself down over a woman.

But the Emperor…

“Return to your position.”

At the low command, Raoul nodded. The Emperor steered his horse skilfully. The sound of the noble warhorse’s hooves echoed through the palace. Raoul followed the Emperor, who was wearing his helmet, as they left the palace gates. In the thick dust, the Emperor on his horse looked like a sharp, cold piece of iron.

***

Raoul, riding beside him, thought of the group that had ambushed the carriage. The carriage bore the imperial seal, for the princess had been in it.

The royal family didn’t recognise marriages without the bishop’s blessing. But the emperor had called the child a princess. Not a bastard. At best, she wasn’t the daughter of a count, but of the emperor. So the princess grew up outside the palace, not within its walls.

And they had ambushed the carriage carrying the royal family. According to the messenger, it seemed that they already knew that the imperial seal was on it. No one would dare do such a thing unless they had a deep grudge against the royal family. That’s why the Emperor was personally leading the soldiers.

The Emperor’s gaze stopped at the wreckage of the ambushed carriage. His eyes grew cold and uneasy as they lingered on the blood-soaked carriage and the dead knights. Raoul ordered his officers to search the area. Soon, knights with torches and barking dogs were scouring the foothills.

“They will be safe, Your Majesty.”

Raoul murmured to the Emperor, whose eyes were as dark as if the morning frost had already fallen. Suddenly Atlion noticed a blue ribbon on the floor. It was a fine satin ribbon used in the palace. Raoul’s eyes followed the direction of the ribbon, which led to a trail of footprints.

“Mirabella…”

He called his daughter’s name softly. Anger began to rise on the Emperor’s haggard face. The sound of dogs barking echoed in the distance. The Emperor lifted his eyes and looked in the direction where the torches were gathering.

***

Struggling to untie her bound hands and feet, Swan gasped as she looked at Theo. There was no sign of breath, as if he were dead. She had twisted and turned the ropes, trying to free herself, and kept looking back at him. Without watching him, it was almost as if his breathing would stop altogether.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed in the cave. The faint rays of light filtering in from the outside gave no sense of time, and it was maddening. Biting her lip to suppress the pain in her raw skin, Swan stamped her feet in frustration.

Then she heard a small cry. Swan turned her head. She thought she heard the distant sound of horses’ hooves. It could have been a hallucination brought on by her aching heart, but the sound grew louder and her heart began to race uncontrollably.

“Is someone there? Help me! Please, please!”

Tangled and bound, she struggled and lost her balance, falling to the floor. Swan shivered, gasping as the sound seemed to fade, only to return, mingled with the sound of clanging metal. The sounds seemed to come and go, getting closer and then farther away. In the eerie silence of the cave, Swan let tears fall.

Suddenly there was the sound of soft footsteps. Swan, struggling and unable to raise her head, froze. She didn’t believe it was an ally. As she twisted her bound hands, trying to avoid the footsteps and escape, her shoulder was suddenly grabbed and lifted.

“Ah! Let me go!”

Swan screamed, flailing in panic. Then she felt warm breath against her ear, followed by a soft whisper.

“Shh.”

“Ugh, hhh…”

“It’s me, Swan.”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty?”

“It’s all right. It’s all right, Swan.”

“Your Majesty… is it really you?”

Swan trembled as she reached out and felt the man hidden in the darkness of the cave. At that moment, the tension within her dissolved and she burst into tears like a child. His hands quickly untied the ropes, freeing her hands and feet. She gasped for breath, still clinging to him as he wrapped her in his arms.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty, I can’t see your face.”

“It’s all right. I can see you.”

His hand gripped hers tightly, pulling her face towards him. Swan began to cry softly, her tears falling as she felt the soft touch of his skin. The straight bridge of his nose, his soft lips, his dark eyebrows… The man she had once endlessly traced with her fingers was right in front of her. He held her, embraced her.

As his warm body enveloped her even tighter, she clung to him.

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty, Theo is hurt… And our… our child… Ugh, ugh… they’re gone. They’re gone, Your Majesty…”