The Grand Gallery of Eternity

Evelynn, who had always assumed a mage would be some wrinkled old soul, was thrown for a moment. Arthurs had called her a great mage, yet to be this young and this lovely felt like cheating. She swallowed her dismay and offered a greeting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Evelynn Mardus... that's what I'm called."

Her words trailed off. Ilya, who had been studying the two of them, sat first.

"Everyone, sit."

The maids brought in refreshments. When sugar confections and cakes fine enough to pass for works of art came out in a long procession, Renee could not hide her smile. Ilya glanced at her and let out a short laugh.

Evelynn looked from one of them to the other. What were they to each other, that they used names so familiarly? He was not a man who let people near him easily. The thought, running uselessly ahead of her, stopped dead at the sound of a low, weighty voice.

"Evelynn. Renee said she had something to ask you, so I came along."

"You're welcome. As it happens, I had something I wanted to ask as well."

Renee, who had been breathing in the fragrance with a look of pure bliss, set down her teacup. In an instant her expression turned serious.

"My lady, you said you were curious about Mandra."

"...Mandra?"

"The herb embroidered on your handkerchief is called Mandra. Might I see that handkerchief?"

The handkerchiefs Sophie's sister sent were Evelynn's secret weapon. She had not wanted her husband to know of them, but there was no help for it. A moment later Sophie brought in the handkerchief in question.

"Hmm. Rather pointed, this."

Renee sighed as she studied the image of a golden fox clutching a Mandra in its forepaws.

Evelynn hesitated, then spoke.

"The Golden Fox is my brother Odin's nickname."

Ilya, who had been quietly examining the handkerchief, let out a sound of admiration.

"Then the fact that you knew of Odin Mardus's marriage before anyone else..."

Evelynn nodded.

"So there's a capable informant inside Mardus Castle. And they pass the word by stitching it into a handkerchief... Remarkable, the both of them."

He meant it. A bright, gentle face—and yet his wife had a sharp edge to her.

"In any case, this hideous plant is tied to the Mardus family."

Ilya glared at the handkerchief, his expression fearsome. Evelynn's heart clenched at the thought of whatever new scheme her father might be weaving.

"What's it used for?"

"A sort of cure-all. It's most often used as a painkiller. Depending on the method of preparation, it can also be made into a narcotic or a hallucinogen. The trouble is that it fetches whatever price the seller cares to name."

"Can the thing be cultivated?"

Renee's face grew grave.

"No. Under imperial law, cultivating Mandra is illegal. When it's pulled from the ground it makes a strange sound, and everyone who hears that sound is said to die or go mad."

Evelynn's mouth fell open.

"There is more than one dreadful tale bound up with Mandra. For today, let's leave it here."

Renee looked at Ilya.

"Your Grace, I'll be away for a few days."

"Fine. Anything else you need?"

"The vice commander. I can take him along, can't I?"

Arthurs, standing behind them, pricked up his ears.

"Take him."

When Ilya agreed without hesitation, Renee smiled. This time she turned to Evelynn.

"My lady, if any further word comes from Mardus Castle, please be sure to tell His Grace."

"Yes. I will."

Renee stole a glance at her master. He was staring only at his wife, his expression impossible to read. Quick to take a hint, she rose.

"Your Grace, I'll take my leave. There's a great deal to prepare if I'm to depart tomorrow."

"Go on, then."

Renee cast one last wistful look at the sweets on the table. Catching that pleading gaze, Evelynn signaled Sophie with her eyes. Sophie nodded and hurried out.

Once the two of them were alone, silence settled over the drawing room. Evelynn stole a look at his face. Perhaps because he had not come here in more than ten days, the skin beneath his eyes had gone dark. When Ilya stood, she looked up at him, a little dazed.

"You're leaving already? You look tired. If you stayed here..."

"There's somewhere I need to go."

"At this hour?"

Ilya frowned faintly, as if put on the spot. He remained standing like that for a long moment, then held out his hand to his wife. Evelynn took it as if spellbound. When the Archduke led her out of the Annex, the escort knights poured after them in a rush. These days, the moment he was with his wife he did something sudden, and it was the knights of his personal guard who were run half to death for it.

They rode for quite some time before arriving at an old-fashioned building south of the main keep. Evelynn dismounted and looked around. Soldiers stood sentry before a structure that resembled a small chapel. Startled by the Archduke's unannounced appearance, they bowed deeply.

"Where are we?"

"The Grand Gallery of Eternity."

With that, Ilya went in ahead. Evelynn followed quietly. The moment they stepped inside, the magic lamps kindled one after another and flooded the space with light. A high arched ceiling caught her eye. Along both walls of the long corridor hung the portraits of every Archduke of Azantis, and of their families.

Studying them with curious eyes, Evelynn stopped before the likeness of a woman. A young woman with silver hair and deep green eyes gazed forward, her expression bored.

"The Archduchess before last. Nasser's mother—my elder brother's."

"She was beautiful."

Longing colored Evelynn's face as she looked at the silver-haired beauty. Ilya glared at her where she stood as if nailed to the floor. He let out a long sigh and went on.

"She was the eldest daughter of the Loren marquisate. Until my mother pushed her aside... she was Archduchess of Azantis."

At the word mother, spoken from his mouth for the first time, Evelynn turned her head. Following his gaze, she found the portrait of a beauty with black hair falling loose. For a moment she forgot even to breathe.

"I don't think I've ever seen a woman this beautiful."

The woman's beauty was extraordinary: straight black hair to her waist, a tiara wrought of pearls. Evelynn gazed, entranced, at the deep blue eyes that stood out all the more against that black hair.

"Well. She was a beauty, I'll grant that."

The man who might have been cut from the same cloth as the woman's hair and eyes muttered it in a slightly hoarse voice. Evelynn gathered every scrap of courage she possessed and asked her husband.

"Your mother... what sort of person was she?"

A storm crossed Ilya's face. Thinking she had asked something she should not have, Evelynn apologized.

"I'm sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to say anything..."

"A pitiful woman."

Startled by the unexpected answer, Evelynn's eyes went round.

"It's a fairly famous story. You must know the rough of it."

"I know as much as people like to gossip about. But it was a matter between the imperial house and the Archduchy... I doubt everything known outside is the truth."

Ilya's father, the Archduke of Azantis before last, had fallen for a woman in the capital. She was a maid in service at the imperial palace. At the time the Archduke was a married man, with a wife and a son a year old, but he did not care in the least. Lost to love, he abducted the maid. Less than a year after she was dragged north, she bore a boy. That boy was Ilya.

"You're right. It wasn't rape, the way the world tells it. My mother seduced my father."

"...I see."

In a flat voice, Ilya laid bare his own shame.

"Not that my father was in the right. A man with a wife and a son besides, toppling over the moment a woman threw herself at him—that's the real problem."

The trouble erupted after Ilya was born. The woman everyone had taken for a maid was the crown prince's hidden lover. Society clucked that the crown prince had sent his mistress to seduce the Archduke of Azantis.

"It's true my mother was the crown prince's mistress, and true that she seduced my father on his orders."

"The crown prince—do you mean His Majesty the Emperor?"

Ilya nodded.

"Even so, once she had risen as far as Archduchess, she might have lived well enough."

Whatever people said, the Archduke of Azantis was mad with love. In the end he divorced his wife and formally married Ilya's mother. But she, unable to forget the crown prince, took lover after lover. At last the Archduke killed his wife and took his own life, and their tragedy came to an end.

Ilya stared at the beauty in the portrait for a long while, then turned his head. Evelynn had no idea what she might say to comfort him.

"Their memorial day is soon. We'll let it pass quietly, but... my aunt will be coming too... I'm tired."

The burning light carved deep shadow across his face. It felt as if she were seeing her husband's unguarded face for the first time. Evelynn laid her hand over the back of his, and stood quietly at his side, hoping the warmth of her body might be some comfort. After a moment she pressed down on his hand. When Ilya looked at her as if to ask what was the matter, she spoke in a deliberately bright voice.

"Let's hurry and go to sleep. When things were hard I tried everything, and sleep was the best of it. By tomorrow morning you'll have forgotten it all."

"Yes. You're right."

Evelynn took the hand of her husband—docile as a lamb—and drew him toward the exit. Before she opened the door, she glanced back.

Among the portraits of the Archdukes, a young man hung at the very end. Silver hair so vivid it might have been painted there, deep green eyes like a forest in summer. Everyone else was with family. He alone kept a lonely watch over the Grand Gallery.

Leaving that gentle man behind her, Evelynn walked on.

A few days later, Ilya stood at a sullen slant by the entrance that led down beneath the chapel. There lay the ossuaries of every Archduke and Archduchess.

"Why is this woman so late?"

When Ilya grumbled, Naz, standing beside him, whispered.

"Your Grace, she is your aunt. Do mind your words..."

From far off, a noblewoman of imposing presence approached with a smile, a whole cluster of maids trailing after her. Seeing those maids, every one of them dressed in splendor, Ilya sneered.

"Her Majesty the Queen has deigned to arrive. Or should I say the Saint?"

Countess Celis Glen. She was the half-sister of the Archduke of Azantis before last, and Ilya's aunt. Today he was to visit, together with her, the ossuary of that Archduke beneath the chapel. Ilya closed his eyes briefly, opened them, and sneered again.

"Naz. What do you suppose the noble countess will use to tear into me today?"

Following his gaze, a narrow path leading to the Annex came into view. Thinking of his lord's wife and son, who remained in the Annex, Naz let out a long sigh.