The Empress finally allowed herself a satisfied smile. Lips the color of blood-red rose petals curved in a neat arc.
“When that brat returns, the real fight for the crown prince’s seat will begin.”
Her voice dropped. The more she thought on it, the angrier she seemed; her teeth ground together.
“The Emperor intends to invest him as crown prince.”
So it is.
Etienne nodded without a flicker of surprise. It was an open secret that the Emperor held his distant kinsman, Rishar, in special regard.
In the past, the Emperor had named himself guardian to the Grand Duke of Eckhart, who had lost his parents young, sheltering him in the Imperial Palace until his admission to the Imperial War College. He oversaw him personally, from first to last.
To his own son Etienne, the Emperor blew cutting winter winds; to the Grand Duke of Eckhart, he was a warm spring breeze. Naturally, tongues wagged.
Gossips who loved to talk asked if the children had been switched. Some nobles even claimed it was because Etienne was a Beta and the Grand Duke of Eckhart a dominant Alpha.
Since the Emperor himself had been born an Alpha and had crushed his brothers to reach the throne, the theory carried a certain plausibility.
The Emperor did not deny the rumors swirling around Etienne and the Grand Duke of Eckhart. Nor did the nobles of the Emperor’s Faction; they backed the Grand Duke as the next emperor.
As a holder of succession rights and one of the few dominant Alphas, the Grand Duke of Eckhart had ample justification.
With matters thus, the nobles who supported Etienne mounted a fierce backlash. The Emperor’s Faction and the Noble Faction clashed sharply over the future imperial authority. And Etienne grew even more tired than before.
Your Highness.
Was it three years ago the last time he saw him? Etienne recalled the Grand Duke of Eckhart coming to take his leave before departing on campaign.
The day he last saw the Grand Duke—Rishar—had been an unusually hot summer night.
“…Who goes there?”
A night of relentless tropical heat that had lasted for days, the kind that made sleep impossible; he had tossed and turned for ages.
Forcing himself to feign sleep, Etienne froze at the hint of presence from the balcony and braced himself. Then, between curtains fluttering in the hot wind, a small voice slipped through.
“It’s me, Your Highness.”
“…Rishar?”
Etienne knew at once whose voice called to him. How could he not? In all the world, only one person called a prince “Your Highness” like that.
“Why are you—”
Stiff as a board, Etienne rose, flustered. He hurried to the balcony, and beyond the curtain saw a familiar face.
“What brings you at this hour?”
He kept his tone as composed as possible. It was just as well he knew the other would be spending the night at the palace for tomorrow’s departure ceremony; otherwise, he might have made a disgraceful scream.
“I wanted to see you before I left.”
Rishar’s gentle eyes creased handsomely as he winked. Etienne’s heart gave an irregular thud.
“Me?”
“…Yes. But I wasn’t trying to disturb your sleep. I just… moved a bit on impulse…”
Rishar’s words trailed off; he smiled, abashed. Feeling a sigh rise, Etienne folded his arms.
“Honestly, you…”
“Are you angry, Your Highness?”
“…I told you not to call me that.”
Etienne snapped on purpose, prickly. Since Rishar had become Grand Duke, Etienne had kept a firm line and repeatedly demanded he change how he addressed him.
But Rishar still called him “Your Highness” and stayed familiarly close.
“Why do you…”
The words slipped out like a sigh and dissolved before they could form. Heat surged up from Etienne’s chest; he shut his mouth.
Eighteen this year and formally invested as Grand Duke, Rishar stood exactly on the border between boy and young man. Etienne looked at him for a moment, then let out a long breath. With cool words, he turned his body.
“If you’ve seen my face, go back.”
“Wait.”
Rishar called urgently and reached out. A large, hard hand caught Etienne’s arm.
“You really—”
Annoyance flared; Etienne frowned. He was about to chide him for such discourtesy when Rishar’s next words stopped him.
“Just a moment. I don’t know when I’ll be back… Could you stay with me a little longer?”
At “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” his heart gave a heavy thump. Etienne could not shake off Rishar’s hand. As he said—who knew when they would meet again.
Having become Grand Duke of Eckhart at the start of the year, Rishar, as the youngest general in the Empire and a knight sworn to the Emperor, was departing on campaign to fulfill his duty.
His first assignment was to quell a large-scale monster wave—the first in ten years.
Because it was unlike a normal monster wave, the task would take months if short, years if long. If things went ill, he could be gravely injured—or die. It was a dangerous mission.
With the thought carried that far, Etienne could no longer turn him away. He let out a long sigh and let his body relax. Rishar’s face brightened.
“Your Highness.”
“What.”
Rishar spoke his title in a low voice. Etienne answered curtly.
“May I write to you?”
Watching Etienne’s face, Rishar opened his mouth hesitantly. In the dark, eyes like the night sky itself glittered.
Etienne quietly regarded those mild eyes that didn’t suit his size. His chest felt tighter than before.
“…If you don’t mind not getting a reply.”
He forced an answer out, and color returned to Rishar’s face. Even told he might get no answer, he looked pleased.
A child is still a child, seen like this.
So Etienne thought as he looked at Rishar’s radiant smile. Strangely, the tightness in his chest seemed to ease.
“I should go now.”
Bong— In the distance, a bell tolled midnight. Rishar glanced toward the sound and murmured with regret.
“…Travel safely.”
This much should be all right.
After a brief hesitation, Etienne offered a parting word. Navy-blue eyes flashed as if holding stars.
“I’ll return.”
Smiling, Rishar saluted. Then he lifted his hand carefully. For the briefest moment, a soft warmth touched Etienne’s cheek and fell away. Withdrawing his hand, Rishar squinted, somewhere between a laugh and tears.
“Stay well.”
With that final farewell, Rishar turned away, face full of reluctance. Etienne stood on the balcony until his figure had completely left his sight.
That night, Etienne did not sleep a wink.
“…What do you plan to do now?”
“Pardon?”
Lost in recollection, Etienne returned to the present at the Empress’s voice. When he blinked blankly, she drew her brows together.
“I asked what you intend to do when that brat returns.”
“I will do as Mother Empress commands.”
“Good.”
Apparently satisfied with his answer, she nodded lightly.
“You need only do as your mother says.”
“Yes.”
Etienne bowed his head in obedience. A bitter smile tugged faintly at his lips.
Until now, the Empress had never wanted Etienne to do anything on his own. The only thing she required of her son was that he not be found out as an Omega.
“To set aside one’s own child and make a collateral prince the heir—he’s gone stark mad.”
She muttered, more flabbergasted the more she thought on it.
“Of late there are fools who call him a hero, but pay them no mind.”
“Yes.”
Etienne answered mechanically. For three years, Rishar’s achievements had been formidable enough to make even her wary.
He had not only successfully repelled the large-scale monster wave, but also driven back the barbarians who had long coveted the Empire. It was the kind of record worthy of the name “hero.”
With Etienne yet to have any such merit to his name, it was only natural that voices grew louder to invest Rishar as crown prince instead.
“From now on, you’ll be appearing in public as well.”
“…What?”
At the unexpected statement, Etienne’s eyes went round. The Empress snorted lightly.
“What surprises you? The situation has changed because of that brat and the Emperor. You may not be able to win merit on campaign as he did, but at the very least you must show your presence as a prince.”
“Ah. Yes.”
“Don’t fret overmuch. I’ll prepare the stage. You, as ever, will be careful and show your face a few times.”
“I understand.”
“Ah, and mind your reputation.”
“My reputation…?”
“See that people stop calling you the imperial good-for-nothing.”
Good-for-nothing.
At the word on her lips, laughter rose unbidden. Etienne set his mouth. If he laughed here, she would surely find it strange. To avoid suspicion, he had to manage his expression.
“You mustn’t clash with young nobles like last time. And curb the drink for a while.”
“I had no choice then. A mere viscount’s son dared slight me, a prince.”
Realizing which incident she meant, Etienne spoke with deliberate arrogance. Another might have frowned to hear him, but not her. Born a great noble, the Empress held a rigid sense of hierarchy and a deeply rooted superiority.
“That you did well. A colt that doesn’t know its place needs to be stepped on.”
As he expected, her tone softened a fraction. It even struck her that her son was, for once, saying something right.
“Still, show some restraint. Don’t stir up needless friction.”
“I’ll try. But please allow the drink.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to drink either, but I’ve no choice. You know it as well as I do. Because of the medicines I take, I need alcohol.”
“Hm.”
She hummed, noncommittal. The medicines Etienne was taking at present were not one or two.
A drug to suppress heat, a drug to press down hormones, a drug to thin pheromones, a drug to veil the jewel eyes, and so on…
Since childhood, Etienne had taken medicines to hide every trace of the Omega.
Even the finest medicine becomes poison in excess. And the medicines he took were those that artificially controlled natural processes. Problems were inevitable.
For that reason, the palace physician and the apothecary assigned to Etienne advised him, from time to time, to drink: with a slight buzz, a body locked by tension and nerves rubbed raw would loosen naturally.
Even that way, his stress levels had to be brought down.
“It can’t be helped.”
If the balance of body and mind broke and he failed to control his pheromones, all would be for nothing. Displeased, she still took a step back, a frown knitting her brow. She knew it too:
At present, Etienne’s body was as precarious as a cracked glass.
“Drink if you must… but mind yourself so no one calls you a good-for-nothing.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Then you may withdraw. I’ll have what you must do conveyed through the Chief Lady-in-Waiting.”
“Yes, Mother Empress.”
Etienne answered meekly. He offered a bow as etiquette required and left the receiving room.
“Your Highness!”
After the long corridor, once he stepped outside, Ben—who had been pacing anxiously before the Empress’s Palace—ran up at once.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Etienne gave a faint smile and let out a long breath, like releasing a held lungful. Only outside the Empress’s Palace could he truly breathe.
***
“We’ve arrived.”
At the coachman’s call, Etienne opened his eyes slowly. When the carriage came to a full stop, Ben, seated across from him, rose.
“Your Highness.”
Standing before him, Ben called him with an apologetic look.
“I’ll put in the drops.”
“…All right.”
Etienne answered in a leveled tone and tipped his head back slightly. At his permission, Ben drew a small vial from his breast. With careful motions, he moved his hand.
Tock.
A black drop fell into eyes the color of set aquamarine. In that instant, his eyes burned as if scalded.
Etienne bit his lower lip and endured the pain. Though done every time, the hot sting, as if his eyeballs were melting, never became familiar.
“All done.”
As the ache slowly ebbed, he blinked. The eyes revealed again were dull to the point of murky.
Ben looked on in regret as eyes that had sparkled like the clearest lake lost their radiance and turned muddy. Etienne ignored his gaze and rose.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Schooling his expression, Ben rapped the coachman’s seat—tunk—with his hand. At once, as if waiting, the carriage door flew open.
“Just a moment, Your Highness.”
Having stepped down first, Ben reached up and straightened Etienne’s attire.
“All set.”
Withdrawing his hands, Ben stepped back, satisfied. Dressed more splendidly than usual, Etienne was beautiful enough to draw a gasp from any onlooker.
“You look magnificent today.”
“Flatterer.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.”
Ben protested, aggrieved. His gaze dropped to the red diamond brooch on Etienne’s chest.
“Even the world’s red diamonds can’t compare to Your Highness’s beauty.”
The brooch, made of red diamond—of which there were only about thirty in the world—had been sent to Etienne by Leona, the Empress, that very morning.