The Pillar Answers
Creak—clank.
"Ha..."
At Roina's request, Ethan stepped outside, and the sound of the lock turning behind him followed. Only when she was finally alone did the breath she had been holding break free, and with it a bitter little laugh at herself.
All right. The letter will reach her. I'll try everything that might raise our chances, even a little.
This was the place she had seen and set in order every day for two years—the familiar room, the splendid prison where she had always been bound, a place that stayed nothing but horrific no matter how much time passed. Now she was alone in the crown prince's bedchamber. The door, shut fast and locked from the outside, seemed to speak of the man who had just left.
She had sent Ethan out so she could escape, of course. But she also meant to investigate something in this room that had troubled her for a long while.
Something lingered in the crown prince's chamber, faint and persistent, and it had been grating on Roina's nerves without cease. What she had once sensed only dimly had grown unmistakable now that she sat here with nothing to do but wait.
Roina let her gaze travel the length of the room. What, in this sealed chamber, kept speaking to her and plucking at her nerves? The antique bed, the ornate candlesticks and sacred statues, the tea table, the carpet brought from the far north with its peculiar pattern, the ceiling painting where the Gold Dragon that symbolized the Empire spread in magnificent splendor...
She was concentrating, determined to finish everything in the brief time before Ethan returned, when a peculiar resonance caught her. Not a sound for the ear, but one that entered the mind directly.
Roina met the eyes of the Gold Dragon on the ceiling. The golden dragon, body twisting as if it might take flight at any moment, seemed—impossible as it was—to be staring straight at her. Following that gaze, she found the figure of the hero said to have been the first emperor, and beneath him a hanging curtain and a plain, unadorned pillar. She drew the thin curtain quietly aside and stepped closer.
The pillar stood in a corner of the crown prince's chamber, hidden behind the other furnishings and easy to miss. But the nearer she came, the louder the resonance grew, and with it the beating of her heart.
The moment she lifted her hand, a chill spread through her whole body. With the illusion of a rising wind, beautiful blue light traced geometric patterns across the pillar that had looked so plain.
Found it.
Someone whispered. The humming swelled. The sudden sensation left Roina's mind reeling, her head ringing in a dizzy clamor. For an instant the world inverted, and her eyes met a man's.
In that moment every sense flung itself open. She felt herself joined to him in mind and in body alike—something climbing the surface of her skin without a single gap, every nerve standing on end—and a shiver ran through her.
From the golden eyes meeting hers, from the nerves secretly knit to his, came an ecstasy she had never known.
Closer. Closer still. Become truly one with him, and you can have a moment of absolute perfection.
A conviction strong enough to ache in her chest surged over her.
Click.
Her mind, sinking into some unfathomable abyss, was yanked abruptly upward. Startled by the sound at the door, she snatched her hand from the pillar and drew the curtain shut. The instant her touch left it, the pillar—its many lines risen in blue light, still resonating—became an ordinary column of stone.
Roina hurried to the sofa and sat. Her heart pounded hard enough to set a fine tremor through her, and she swallowed. She hid her shaking fingertips beneath her thigh.
The one who opened the door was Ethan, just as she had expected.
"You're later than I thought."
She lifted her head and smiled brightly, as if nothing at all had happened. Perhaps remembering what had passed earlier, Ethan turned his gaze aside, the rims of his eyes red. He seemed determined not to answer.
The pillar that had resonated once was still humming, faintly and without rest, sending her its signal. For a moment she turned over what had just happened.
The man she had faced a few days ago.
Eyes shining gold. Long hair black as pitch. The one she had met by the well.
"...Damn."
He had thought he had found her. At the signal's sudden break and vanishing, the long-haired man clenched his fist tight.
The contact had lasted only a moment, but the feeling of it had unmistakably been a true Star. And not just any star—the Primordial Star, the one they said had been sought for hundreds of years and never found. A being that had nothing to do with the rule that only one Archmage was born to a generation.
She was not something a mere crown prince could imprison and hide. He could not leave her radiant talent, her jewel-like beauty, to sink into the mire like this. Once he had chosen to inherit the Archmage's power, this was as good as the purpose of his life—the one thing he was bound to protect.
The mage sank the golden light of his eyes into darkness, clenched his teeth, and rearranged the spell-formula. Even if he had to force it, he meant to analyze the ancient mana circuits in the area and take them whole. For the star—the only thing that could shine within the darkness he had kept all his life. For her, he could do anything.
This was the Crown Prince's Palace, which he had entered on the pretext of meeting the crown prince. If he was not to endure that tiresome process all over again when he returned, this was essential.
In a corner of the garden that even the gardeners scarcely knew existed, darkness swirled in silence. His black hair streamed in a wind stirred by mana, and golden mana crackled and sparked in answer. Amid a darkness and stillness that defied all reason, only the golden light of ancient power shone, and answered him.
Forgotten magic of the ancient age was being wrought again, miraculous as a dream, and not a soul noticed him.
Roina.
Those eyes, shaking as if in bewilderment. That slender body, trembling as it linked to his mana. And even then, the small movement of her drawing nearer, filled with rapture. All of it seized him with a terrible allure.
Before he knew it, he was imagining what it would be like to truly touch her, and he forced the thought away. Her star was a noble soul; even the wish to reach it was something he ought to approach with care. However ecstatic the moment of merging with her mana, he must not.
And yet... if—truly if—the chance ever came to claim her utterly, with not a breath of distance left between them... he could not know whether he would keep his reason even then.
Clear, lucid blue eyes, and a soul burning with will. And...
In the primordial dark where ancient magic was being wrought, the Archmage let out a faint sigh.
You must always be perfect. You are the body that will one day be mother to the Empire.
Those were the words Veronica had heard all her life.
She was nothing like the Amastos, a gaudy upstart house with no substance beneath the shine, and nothing like those slave girls who were nothing but their bodies. She was the daughter of Eckhart, a great noble house whose history and renown had been built across long ages.
She had the right. The place beside the dazzling sun was hers. Through it, she would lift her house, now caught in an adverse wind. Thinking so, Veronica raised her chin.
"Well then. How was it, Lady Eckhart?"
A useless girl. Roberto thought it with idle boredom. She had dared reach for his star without knowing her place, so he had merely told her to test the matter herself. Just as he expected, she had only put her own feelings first. He saw no particular value in her.
"She is a raw gem capable of letting her talent shine, as befits one Your Highness chose. I believe, however, that a great deal of time will be required."
Of course it would. He had deliberately raised her as a bed-slave who knew nothing.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Pardon?"
The crown prince drew the corner of his mouth up in a graceful curve, as if amused. Veronica, who had not understood the question, asked it back.
"I asked whether it was amusing to roll my jewel about and play with her."
A chill went through her. The moment he said it, Veronica felt something dreadful. She even had the illusion that his pupils had gleamed red. It took her a little too long to still the lips that had begun to tremble on their own.
"To carry out Your Imperial Highness's commands is, always, nothing but my pleasure."
"I see. So that's how it is."
The imperious way he spoke down to her was unfamiliar. But Veronica had no mind left to find it strange. It felt as if a python larger than her own body had coiled around her and was slowly crushing the breath from her throat. She panted softly and scratched at her neck.
"Come to think of it, you must have come here because you wanted to become mine as well. That would be why you wanted to be rid of the one who occupies the place beside me."
The crown prince tilted his head, then indicated something with the tip of his chin. It was a large box, carved with an antique bird. An aide at his side bowed once, opened the box with care, and spilled its contents out.
"Aaaah!!!"
Two dead men's heads rolled to a stop at Veronica's feet, their faces livid blue, their tongues bitten through and jutting from their mouths.
Terror took her completely. She screamed and collapsed where she sat.
"You wish it so dearly that I, who watch over the people, can hardly fail to lend an ear."
Heh. A thin, rancid sneer slipped between the crown prince's teeth.
Veronica shook her head and crawled backward on hands and knees. The one before her—if he was a person at all—was no longer the crown prince she had known.
"N-no, I—I'm f-fine—"
Her refusal meant nothing. The aide who had been waiting simply seized her tidy throat and hauled her off into the shadows. She thrashed violently, desperate to break free, but it was already too late.