Rashta felt certain her child was gone forever, but the viscountâs confident manner wracked her with doubt.
âAnd Rashta, think carefully. What would people think if I were to suddenly disappear after I said you were a runaway slave? Wouldnât they say the Emperor was trying to hide something?â
Rashta was accustomed to listening Roteschu speak as if he would trample her underfoot, but his voice suddenly took on a pleasing tone. She swallowed hard.
âBesides, one canât live so innocently in the Imperial Palace. So much deception to do, how could you leave that kind of work to someone who doesnât know your secret?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou foolish creature, Iâm saying you should direct that hostile glare towards someone else. I already know everything about you. In other words, I can perfectly be your hands and ears.â
âI donât need someone like you!â
Viscount Roteschu tutted at her.
âPlaying dress up doesnât make you a lady, Rashta. Perhaps after a time you will be able to shake off the past and be accepted among the nobles, but by then, would you still be a concubine that the Emperor loves?â
Rashtaâs eyes trembled.
âThe Emperor says he only loves Rashta.â
âMaybe. Maybe not. Well, how should I say thisâyou havenât forgotten my son, have you?â
Rashta bit her lip. The viscountâs son, who had whispered his vows of love to her, began to change as the birth of Rashtaâs baby approached. He started out persistent and stubborn, but gradually exhausted himself.
After the baby died, Rashta had pleaded with him to run away together. Eventually he told her, I love you, but I donât want to change my life for you.
â You looked like you were stuck in a mire, and I wished to save you from it. But I was wrong. You are the mire, and I canât save you from it. Even any children born between use will be dragged into that mire, and trapped in it.
That miserable day. It wasnât just the baby that Rashta lost.
Rashta clenched her fists, and blood began to seep from where her fingernails bit her flesh. Instead of stopping, Viscount Roteschu continued to run his blade-like tongue across Rashtaâs wounds.
âThe more you are loved by the Emperor, the more other poor, beautiful women will look at your situation and hope. To escape their mire, theyâll want to latch on to the Emperor as well.â
âThenââ
âThen what? Greedy nobles, foreign lords, and anyone interested in political collusion will send all kinds of beautiful women to the Emperor. And many of those women will have education and status.â
ââŠâ
âYou are not an empress, Rashta. If you lose the emperorâs love, you go back into slavery.â
âIf thatâs the caseâŠitâs no use whether you help me or not.â
âNo. Itâs up to you and your ability to remain in his favor, but I can make sure no other concubine will come around or last.â
âHow?â
âFirst you have to let me in.â
Viscount Roteschu bent slightly at the waist and spoke in a low voice.
âIf you help me and my family come to the center of power, I will play the role as your parent. Your child is my grandchild, and what is good for it is good for me. â
The words would have sounded tempting to Rashta if it were not for the speaker. How could a man like him accept a slave as his daughter-in-law? Even a passing dog would laugh at them. It was clear that he only wanted to keep her close to him to leech from her.
Rashtaâs expression didnât change, and Viscount Roteschu chuckled.
âYou donât believe me. But youâll know at a glance that your child looks like you.â
Rashta couldnât speak, frozen as if she lost all function of her body. Viscount Roteschu stared at her and stood up with a satisfied smile.
âThink carefully. I will continue to pretend to be an idiot who canât recognize faces, as His Majesty commanded.â
*
*
*
The New Yearâs three-day celebrations came to an end, and most of the guests returned to their respective homes, save a few who requested to stay longerâincluding Prince Heinley. I reviewed and filled out the period of stay for the remaining guests, their secretaries, servants and knights. When I saw Prince Heinleyâs leave date marked âundetermined,â I smiled reflexively.
I remembered he insisted that Queen did not eat raw food. Earlier I had consulted with an ornithologist and asked if there was a bird with such a diet, and recalled what he had said.
âA bird that doesnât eat raw food? Do you mean it cooks its food? Such a bird would tip the academic world, Your Majesty.â
Perhaps Prince Heinley was not feeding Queen properly by mistake.
âBut Queen seemed to hate bugs.â
Maybe the person in charge of feeding Queen cut up the caterpillars? No wonder Queen was surprised to see a live one. Next time I would give that to him.
I encountered Prince Heinley on the way back from work, so I took a walk with him and told him about my plan. I wanted to inform him in case hey might misunderstand that I was trying to feed Queen some strange food.
âAhâŠâ
After my explanation, the prince made a strange groaning noise.
âPrince? Are you okay?â
âPleaseâŠcan you just give water?â
âAn ornithologistââ
âEastern birds and Western birds have different temperaments. Western birds eat cooked food.â
ââŠâ
Was I supposed to believe that? I made a skeptical expression, and he looked at me imploringly.
âYou can just pat his head. Thatâs enough.â
Did Prince Heinley not like other people feeding Queen? I once heard about a dog that didnât eat anything other than what the owner gave. It could be the same with the bird. I smiled and nodded, wondering if I was being rude, though the tension in Prince Heinleyâs face didnât loosen.
âIâm sorry.â
âItâs fine. Iâm sure feeding him is lovely, but heâs already lovely himself.â
âNoâŠbut Iâm sorry anyway.â
He sighed and raked his hand through his blond hair.
âJust. There are a lot of constraints.â
â?â
âItâs the Queenâs birthday soon, isnât it?â
âItâs his birthday?â
Prince Heinley burst out laughing, then corrected himself.
âI meant your birthday, Your Majesty.â
âYou knew?â
I smiled weakly. Large celebrations were usually held on the birthdays of the emperors and empresses, but mine was too close to New Yearâs. Holding large parties in succession with one another could hurt public opinion and place a burden on the nobles. Since my childhood, my birthdays had been a more intimate affair of dinner with family and acquaintances. Prince Heinley didnât know this, of course.
When I smiled awkwardly, he stopped walking and offered his own grin.
âI know the day, but I still donât know what you would like.â
âYou mean as a gift?â
âIâm your best friend. I want to spend that day with you, donât you know?â
â!â
Before I could answer, I heard a rustling sound. Instead of answering Prince Heinley, I looked around and spotted someone I didnât expect to see.
It was Sovieshu. Other than a single knight, he was walking alone. Sovieshuâs gaze landed on me and Prince Heinley.