~CHAPTER 44~
“I don’t think mine was necessary.”
The maids who had been chatting excitedly all went silent and bowed their heads the moment Rision opened the door to the waiting room.
Elpenlira, sitting on the long bench and flipping through her sheet music, smirked when she saw the large marigold bouquet in Rision’s arms.
“Nothing can beat the Emperor’s bouquet anyway.”
“You look very beautiful today.”
It was sincere.
Elpenlira being beautiful was nothing new, but dressed in the long white gown without ornamentation, its sleeves trailing on the floor as tradition dictated for Saint Lusanna’s Feast, with a wreath of leaves and twigs on her head, she looked like a forest spirit out of myth.
Perhaps because she was excited about performing, Elpenlira rose from her seat and accepted Rision’s bouquet.
And she even kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, brother.”
“Congratulations. It’s your fifth year.”
If not for Dianu, Elpenlira likely wouldn’t have taken the cathedral stage this year.
For that alone, she was grateful.
“Right. I thought this year might be my last.”
She said it casually while burying her nose in the bouquet, but there was weight behind the words.
Saint Lusanna is the patron saint of young girls, so only unmarried noblewomen can take the cathedral stage.
If Elpenlira and Labelan were to enter an arranged marriage as Rision hoped, then this would indeed be her final year on that stage.
‘I won’t sacrifice myself for this country. But who knows. If it’s for my brother’s happiness… maybe.’
That day, Elpenlira had said it like that.
As if she might agree to an arranged marriage if Rision somehow secured his “happiness.”
But the happiness Rision had felt for a brief moment had slipped away like sand through his fingers.
With the name Dianu Ortensa.
Elpenlira plucked two marigolds from the bouquet and motioned to the maids gathered behind her.
Lady Maier, quick on the uptake, approached with scissors.
“Did you hear that Aunt Ellaris bought two balcony box tickets?”
Elpenlira shortened the stems with the scissors handed to her.
She placed one flower in Rision’s left breast pocket and tucked the other into her own wreath.
“Since Sir Valih will leave for the South Sea after this season, she’s desperate for him to propose soon.”
Her slender hand smoothed the wrinkles on Rision’s ceremonial jacket.
“Brother. I practiced very hard for today.”
“…”
“Especially the last piece. I think any man in love would drop to his knees on the spot.”
Rision’s sister lifted her lashes and smiled.
It was the smile of a wicked cat.
“What do you think Sir Valih will do?”
* * *
The performance began.
He couldn’t even remember how the first two hours passed.
Sitting in the honored seats reserved for the Emperor and his family, Rision carried out his duties like a machine.
He nodded to the young ladies who bowed on stage, and applauded politely after each performance.
And he never once looked toward the balcony.
He knew that if he did, he would never regain his focus.
He was anxious.
He kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, drinking water and tea in turns, loosening and tightening his cravat.
Even the delicate harp melody couldn’t calm him.
‘If a man in love heard it, he wouldn’t be able to resist dropping to his knees.’
Was Ganid Valih planning to propose to Dianu today?
Impossible.
They had only met for the first time today.
But if the man were a naval officer soon leaving the capital, and the woman were Dianu Ortensa…
The moment Rision idly entertained that thought, shock hit him.
“If I were someone else,” he realized.
What an absurd thing for an emperor to imagine.
Yet if he allowed himself even a moment of such foolish fantasy, then he would never have let Dianu go.
Just the idea of another man holding her hand while he was away would have driven him mad enough to make daily life impossible.
No, if he were that man, he would have petitioned the Emperor himself to avoid going somewhere as far as the South Sea.
He would have abandoned his uniform before leaving her side.
‘What nonsense is this.’
He felt pathetic.
Rision scrubbed his face with both hands.
He couldn’t endure it any longer.
He finally looked toward the balcony he had been desperately avoiding.
The balcony box Ellaris had arranged for the two was the best money could buy.
The view of the stage was perfect, and the box itself could be seen clearly from the other audience seats.
Concert halls were places where high society showcased their connections and fashion.
Of course the eyes of the crowd were drawn to the young man and woman seated in the most expensive spot in the cathedral.
Even those who weren’t Rision were glancing that way and whispering among themselves.
Most of them were surely curious about the beautiful young lady sitting beside the third son of House Valih.
Rision’s grip tightened on the armrest.
Dianu was dressed in something he had never seen her wear.
Over a sheer blouse that revealed a faint glow of skin, she wore an off-shoulder dress in a soft pink shade that suited her rose-colored cheeks perfectly.
Thanks to the puffed sleeves she rarely chose, her neck looked even slimmer.
He was grateful she wasn’t within his reach.
If she had been in front of him, he might have pulled her into his arms without thinking.
The two seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Sir Valih leaned toward Dianu often, whispering something, and she nodded or whispered back behind her fan.
Whenever she pointed at the stage or smiled sweetly at him, Rision wanted to shout.
His insides were burning.
He wanted a drink, but he couldn’t watch Elpenlira’s performance drunk.
The rest of the time felt like hell.
Even when he forced himself to keep his eyes on the stage, he found himself drifting back to Dianu again and again.
And not once did their eyes meet.
He was the Emperor sitting in the place of honor.
She should have glanced his way at least once, but she didn’t.
She seemed determined to give all her attention to the stage and to Sir Valih.
When the final performer, Elpenlira, walked in to applause, Rision felt relieved.
Three songs.
Once she finished, he would finally be freed from this torment.
He planned to return to the palace without looking back and force himself to sleep.
Rision’s sister showed no sign of nerves before thousands of spectators.
She mounted the stage like a warrior returning victorious and raised one graceful hand.
Then she began to sing with a voice so beautiful it was hard to believe it came from a human throat.
The first two songs were ordinary hymns.
They told the life of Saint Lusanna and were staples of the feast day.
But the final song was always one Elpenlira chose herself each year.
This year’s piece was an aria from a famous opera Rision had once been dragged to by Elpenlira.
Solenin and Enita, the most celebrated work by Catalos’s greatest opera composer, was the tragedy of a philanderer who couldn’t love truly and a village girl who dreamed of true love only to be abandoned.
Ah, Solenin!
The aria began with Enita’s desperate cry, calling the name of the lover who had left her.
From the opening it was challenging, but Elpenlira hit the high notes with ease, even adding the gestures of a professional opera singer.
Wherever your feet touch, may thornbushes rise!
May everything your tongue tastes turn to ash!
May every woman who holds your hand turn into a statue of salt!
May your days without me be filled only with sorrow and storm clouds!
There was nothing left of the innocent village girl in Enita’s curses for the lover who abandoned her.
Ah, God!
Why did you pierce my heart with the arrow of love!
Did you not send me into the world as a kind and pure maiden!
Why burden me with the snare of love and torment me so!
Tearing at her hair and beating her chest, Enita longed for the former self she had traded away for love’s illusion.
Irika, Solenin!
For a moment, it seemed Elpenlira’s eyes met his.
Rision flinched as if stabbed.
The aria surged toward its climax.
He suddenly realized he hadn’t checked on Dianu for quite a while.
Elpenlira’s performance had held him longer than he expected.
Rision lowered his gaze on instinct.
The two seats were empty.
The last thing he saw was Sir Valih leaving the box with his arm around Dianu’s shoulders.
His body moved faster than he expected.
“Your Majesty?!”
The attendants and guards at his side called out in shock.
“Your Majesty, please— Your Majesty!”
“Your Majesty!”
Rision ignored every desperate call.
He burst out of the audience seats and ran down the corridor toward the exit.
The marigold pinned to his chest fell to the floor.
But he didn’t look back.
On stage, Elpenlira’s voice grew faint behind him.
Wherever your feet touch, may thornbushes rise!
May everything your tongue tastes turn to ash!
May every woman who holds your hand turn into a statue of salt!
May your days without me be filled only with sorrow and storm clouds!
Duty, responsibility, the eyes of others.
Everything that had ruled his life seemed to wash away with her voice and the music.
Dianu.
He had to take her hand.
