Prologue: The Unfinished Clause
Night had come to the Imperial Palace.
The bustle of the day had faded, until the only sounds left were the steps of those who had not yet finished their work and the measured tread of the guards. That quiet did not last. It broke under the hurry of someone coming fast.
At the presence entering the Main Palace, everyone nearby bowed toward the one who approached. They did not need a closer look to know him. Tall and powerfully built, his handsome face caught between the lamps, the man was Hyperion, master of this palace.
Hyperion passed swiftly through the people bowing to him. Only after his footsteps had vanished entirely did the maids release the breaths they had been holding and slowly lift their heads. Their eyes followed the back of the man who had already gone inside, and they whispered.
"He's come back to the Main Palace again today."
"I know. The conferences have started. He must be terribly busy."
Since the week before, the grand lords of every region had begun arriving at the Imperial Palace in a steady stream. It was an audience of real weight: they were to present themselves before the newly enthroned emperor and swear their loyalty. During such a period, an emperor ordinarily remained in the Emperor's Palace.
But unlike the emperors before him, Hyperion always returned to the Main Palace once the meetings were done.
One of the maids still watching the place where he had disappeared murmured, her gaze unfocused.
"Her Majesty the Empress must have it so good."
"She really must…"
No one who lived and worked in the Main Palace was ignorant of it. The newly crowned emperor and empress shared the bedchamber every night.
Of course, those who served in the Imperial Palace were not permitted to speak of what they saw and heard. Was it not the first and most basic rule that one must live here as if one had no eyes, no ears, and no mouth?
Even so, one could guess well enough from the older maids charged with the bedchamber, who every day hurried rolled sheets off to the laundry. In truth, it was a joy for the Empire. The imperial couple's harmony was so fine that word of an heir would surely follow soon.
The maids flushed and quickened their steps, certain that tonight, too, the emperor and empress would labor for the sake of a successor.
Footsteps echoed softly down the corridor. Newly aware of the sound, Hyperion gave a bitter smile.
Even he thought his pace was quick—quick enough that anyone beside him would have asked what he was hurrying for. He knew it, and still he could not slow.
The maids who tended the bedchamber bowed as he approached.
"The Empress?"
"After her meal, she went straight to the bedchamber, Your Majesty."
At the answer, the corner of Hyperion's mouth softened. Everyone had their heads bowed, so no one noticed. Not even Hyperion himself.
"All of you, withdraw."
At the emperor's word the maids bowed once more, then hurried along the corridor and down the stairs. Now that he had come, no one would remain on this floor.
The first time he had given that order, the chamberlain had worried for his safety.
"Your Majesty, if you do so, there is the matter of security…"
"I should be able to protect the Empress myself. It is enough that the others remain below."
Hyperion's answer had been short. The chamberlain realized he had spoken out of turn and bowed his head. If the enemy was one Hyperion could not stop, none of the other knights in the palace would be able to stop them either.
After that, no one stayed behind to guard the bedchamber door.
Hyperion opened it. Warm air met him all at once, and with it the deep scent of wood, the clean scent of well-dried bedding, and a sweetness he could not easily name.
Of all of them, he lingered on the last. It was the scent that filled his arms these days whenever he woke.
"Lania."
He called his wife's name quietly as he stepped inside. Her true name was Laniakea, but for some time now he had taken to shortening it. Within the palace it was a pet name only he used, and for that it was all the dearer.
"Lania?"
When he had passed through several doors and entered the bedchamber, he found the room empty and called her again, startled. Whenever he arrived, Laniakea always came out herself to meet him. Now she was nowhere to be seen.
They had said she finished her meal and went inside…
The moment the thought crossed his mind, he saw that the door to the study adjoining the bedchamber stood open, and that a bright light was burning there. He hurried over and found Laniakea seated at the desk. The sight of her drew a small breath of relief from him, and he went to her.
"Lania? What are you doing here?"
He had thought she would start at the sound of his voice and rise in surprise. Contrary to that expectation, she only lifted her head and looked at him. She did not even greet him with a word that he had come. Instead she stood abruptly and said,
"I… I have something to tell you."
Meanwhile Laniakea clenched her fists as she watched Hyperion's expression harden, just slightly, at her words.
I can do this. I can do this! No—I have to!
Had she not sworn it to herself dozens of times, hundreds, before he arrived? Even so, that face of his still made her shrink.
But I can't go on like this.
She had known all along that she needed to speak. Every time, though, she saw the worry on his face before she could get the words out, and swallowed them. She had reached her limit. Tonight she had to tell him what she had been holding back.
"Something to tell me. What is it?"
His voice was courteous, and for that very reason she shrank all the more. She knew how much what she meant to say would matter to him.
When she hesitated, Hyperion swallowed a short sigh, strode over, and stood before her. Then he spoke first.
"I am sorry."
"…What?"
"I wanted to take lunch with you today as well, but the documents Grand Lord Sorel brought were so incomplete that I needed to speak with him at length. Tomorrow I will be sure to have lunch with you."
"Ah… all right…"
Now that she thought of it, they had not shared lunch today, just as he said. Hyperion even looked a little downcast, as if he considered it a grave fault.
"Thank you for understanding. Then let us return to the bedchamber. I will wash and come straight back."
As he spoke, his hands moved quickly over the buttons of his shirt. At the soft sound of them coming undone, Laniakea jolted back to herself and opened her mouth again.
"No. That isn't what I meant to say, Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty?"
At the title, Hyperion's hands stopped. He lowered his head to meet her eyes and murmured, low,
"You promised me yesterday, did you not, Lania."
He put weight on the name. At that, Laniakea hesitated and forced the words out.
"I… I did… Ri…on."
The moment Rion left her lips, his hardened expression eased. Unlike him, Laniakea could not lift her head. She bowed her reddened face, because the instant she called him that, yesterday's memory—the one she had been desperately suppressing all day—rose vivid before her.
"Nnh—mm! Rion, I called you Rion, so why do you keep lick— ah, ahh!"
How obscene the things Hyperion had done, just to drag that name from her mouth. The mere flicker of the memory left her feeling wet between her thighs again.
"I will be back soon."
As if he understood, he stroked the small of her back with his large hand. That alone sent a sharp thrill racing through her whole body, as if lightning had struck her.
If this went on, it would be the same as always. He would wash and return, and they would climb into bed together and fulfill their duty as husband and wife—an act far too shameful to dress up as something done for the Empire, for the emperor's heir. All through the night, as always, until dawn.
I can't let that happen!
Laniakea bit her lip hard. She could retreat no further. Tonight she had to say it.
She slipped free of the embrace she had nearly sunk into without realizing it. Then she picked up the paper on the desk—the one she had been staring at until he arrived—and held it out to him.
"This is…"
Hyperion's eyes widened as he realized what she was offering. At the same moment she cried out.
"L-let's write it again!"
She had practiced it countless times all day, yet the voice that came out trembled pitifully. Laniakea squeezed her eyes shut and shouted once more.
"Let's rewrite our marriage contract! Starting with this!"
Where her finger pointed, a clause was written.
The two shall, within ________, share a bed ________ times for the purpose of producing an heir.
The term and the number of times had been left blank. A clause not yet finished.