Winter Bud - Chapter 7

The next afternoon, there was an audience with Duke Everhardt. It was she who had requested it first. Normally, she would never have sought him out. Nanna looked at the man who bowed properly before her. For someone in his mid-forties, his appearance was so youthful and handsome it was hard to guess his age as he approached her.

It was before she had even told him to come closer. Nanna instinctively held her breath. Each shallow breath that dried up felt like the thorns growing on a vine of green roses. She parted her lips, then lowered her gaze, feeling sweat gather on the neatly folded hands in her lap.

“…Thank you for granting me this audience in the midst of your many duties, Duke.”

“How could I refuse when the Empress calls?” answered the Duke neatly.

Nanna, unable to raise her eyes, invited him to sit. The terrace, from which one could see the splendid gardens of the court, was much simpler and more orderly than the Empress’s quarters where Stateira lay asleep. Her chambers had once been part of the Old Empire’s rear palace. Even that was not a separate palace prepared for a favored consort.

“The reason I asked to meet you, so busy as you are….”

“Is it because of the imperial order to leave for the Western Palace?”

“…Yes.”

Her heart pounded loudly. Nanna, still unable to meet his gaze, only blinked, ashamed of herself.

But she couldn’t simply obey the Emperor’s will. That was why she needed someone—anyone. Normally, she might have gone to the Empress Dowager, but when it came to matters concerning herself, the Emperor never listened to her counsel. He would no doubt use the ministers as an excuse, but if so, wouldn’t it be better to persuade Duke Everhardt instead? After all, he was Stateira’s father and acknowledged among officials as a political giant.

It was through him that Nanna had risen from the status of a lowly maid to empress. And in name, he was still her adoptive father.

“As you surely know already… the children are still so young. Especially my daughter, who gets along very poorly with Viscountess Schvalen. And Alexis as well… the same.”

Nanna recalled the bruise left on the ankle of the baby, barely eight months old. The nail marks told her it was surely from pinching. Unable to hide the shadow on her face, she bit down on her twisted lips.

“They are still, still far too young….”

“Has the Second Prince still not been weaned?”

“…What?”

“I am asking if you are still nursing him.”

The short, level question cut sharply. Nanna looked at the Duke’s keen face. Unlike Stateira, he had black hair. Yet unlike the Emperor’s jet-black, his took on a faint bluish hue in the light.

Unlike Stateira’s delicate and fine features, his were bold and striking. But the stern expression on his face gave him an ascetic, priest-like impression, much like the Emperor. The only resemblance to his daughter lay in the cool green eyes.

Nanna looked at him dimly, then dropped her gaze again. Her cheeks flushed hot, then quickly burned. She couldn’t understand why he asked such a thing. Was it truly necessary to ask such a question just to believe the baby was still young? Or was it, was it truly that….

“It would be better to hire a wet nurse rather than feeding him yourself.”

“…That, that is for me to decide.”

Nanna stammered as she opened her lips. When it came to the children, especially Alexis, it was something she alone must decide. It was not for Duke Everhardt to concern himself with. Even if nominally he was their maternal grandfather, she knew well he cared nothing for the Crown Prince or the Princess. Only for Alexis… as if… as if he thought that child was his son. No, perhaps truly his blood…. Was that what he believed?

“I say this because you are not making sound judgments, Your Majesty.”

“…Duke.”

Nanna let out a sound like a groan as she called him. Her ears, adorned with opal earrings, flushed red to the rims. With eyes full of indignation, she glared at him. Alexis had nothing to do with him. He wasn’t his child. Even if such a thing had happened, it held no meaning for her. Yes, it was useless. It had only been an accident. He had even called it an “accident.” The Emperor didn’t care. And he knew it too, yet seemed unbothered.

But the moment he made it an issue, the child could very well be sent back to the Everhardt family. In that sense, it was better for the Emperor to feign ignorance. Nanna bit her lips tightly, then lifted her head.

“I beg you, I am asking for a favor. I know how useless and pitiful my request must be to you. But surely it is something you can reconsider, at least once.”

Without realizing it, Nanna brought both hands to her chest. Desperately, as if in prayer. Pleading was not difficult. After all, she had once been Stateira’s maid and thus a servant of the Everhardt family. In truth, “maid” was only in name, for she was not the kind of maid that noble ladies of great houses kept.

A family like Everhardt’s could call upon young ladies of lesser houses to serve as maids. Stateira too had once had young ladies of lower-ranking noble families, including distant cousins, serve as her maids. Though, favoring Nanna alone, she had sent the others back to their families….

Given the circumstances, it wasn’t difficult for Nanna to plead with the Duke. She had no real sense of being an empress and was ready to return at any time to the status of maid, or rather, servant. If the sight of a former empress reduced to a servant was displeasing, then being cast out and confined outside the palace would be fine as well. Whatever it might be, she only wished to remain by her children’s side for a time. That was her only wish.

“I’m not saying I want to keep them forever, only that….”

“I will convey the Empress’s wishes to His Majesty.”

At the moment when moisture fell from the corners of Nanna’s eyes, the Duke parted his lips slowly. Nanna looked at him with sudden delight. The Duke gazed steadily at her expression. As he turned his eyes away, something strange and fleeting shadowed his face, then quickly vanished. Seeing it, Nanna wiped her eyes and bowed her head. Then, faintly, she smiled.

***

“To say ‘Western Palace’ so suddenly. How is that any different from confinement?”

Taking a sip of steaming flower tea from the East, Jophie looked at her only son with displeasure. The one-sided order to move the Empress’s residence to the Western Palace left her unable to force a smile.

She knew full well that her son hated the second Empress Consort. That he hated her so much it had turned to revulsion and even loathing, she had come to accept as unavoidable.

Who could he have taken after? Should it be called loyalty to the one he had given his heart to? In any case, his love for Stateira was absolute, and so remarriage must have felt burdensome. No, she thought surely he would be angered. But he was the Emperor. And not just any Emperor, but of the newly founded Falcomere.

The desire for heirs was strong from high to low. In that sense, Stateira may not have been a fitting choice for empress from the start. She was perfect in every way, yet born with a weak body.

Even her own birth mother had died as soon as she gave birth to her. Was it three days after delivery? They said she perished while hovering between life and death without ever once putting the baby to her breast. It was the sort of thing that could bring tears even to Jophie, despite her rather cynical nature.

Even so, the most important duty of an empress was to produce heirs. Yet by the time Stateira fell into her “deep sleep,” the couple had no children. They had suggested filling the harem as in the Old Empire, but under the rules of the sect that strongly supported the New Empire, such a thing couldn’t be allowed….

Thus, they had to appoint a second empress. Whoever it was, someone had to fill that place. That was the fate Orestes had to accept. And yet….