The Crown Vanishes
To the sound of the high priest’s prayer, the priests’ hymn rose and filled the Lesser Hall.
The Lesser Hall lay on the opposite side of the building from the Grand Hall of Assembly, where the coronation itself would be held. There, at this very moment, the consecration of the crowns was underway.
Listening to a hymn whose words she could not begin to follow, Laniakea thought, His Majesty’s side of things ought to be fine, shouldn’t it?
She lingered a moment on Hyperion, then swallowed a sigh. He handled every matter with such flawless precision that one might have believed he had spent his entire life preparing to become emperor.
I should just see to my own part properly.
He had nothing to worry about. If anything went wrong, it would surely be on her side.
Laniakea looked at the crown set before her. It was adorned with large jewels, yet never vulgar. Even so, it had been made long ago, and there was no escaping the antique air that clung to it.
It would suit His Majesty regardless…
She recalled his face as she had seen it, close enough to touch, on the night they had fallen asleep together. Usually, when she opened her eyes, he was already watching her. But just once, she had seen him asleep.
Those strong, deeply carved features did not vanish simply because his eyes were closed. Beneath thick brows, his eyes sat deep in their sockets, and the closed lids bore lashes so long they might have belonged to a doll. Looking at them, Laniakea had realized all over again not only that he was handsome, but that his face was beautiful.
His expressionless countenance pressed such an intimidating weight upon others that most people could not meet his eyes at all. Even Signo, who grumbled and joked in front of him, never treated him with true ease. And even setting that aside, there were never many who could look an emperor straight in the face.
So Laniakea felt a quiet regret. He was this lovely, and almost no one seemed to know it. At the same time, from somewhere deeper still, an unaccountable satisfaction rose—a side of him that others did not know. A side that only she had seen.
Just then, the priests’ hymn came to an end.
Laniakea hurriedly gathered herself and returned her attention to the rite of consecration.
When the singing ceased, the high priest stepped before the crowns and lightly sprinkled holy water over both of them. He offered a prayer far longer still, then took a single step back.
“With this, the rite of consecration is complete.”
At his words, Laniakea inclined her head slightly toward him. The temple had thrown itself into this coronation with remarkable zeal. It, too, had clashed with the Empress Dowager over various matters in the past, and now it seemed intent on supporting Hyperion strongly, the better to reclaim the rights the Dowager had once taken from them.
“You have my thanks. May the gods’ blessing rest upon His Majesty for all time.”
When Laniakea answered, the priests all bowed lightly in return.
The priests withdrew, and the maids closed around Laniakea in escort. In the meantime, the staff of the Jewel Bureau and the maidservants transferred the consecrated crowns into wooden cases.
Laniakea and the crowns returned together to the waiting room. The Jewel Bureau’s people left the cases open and carried the crowns and the orb into the adjoining chamber. The cloth lining the inside of the crowns had grown slightly damp from the holy water sprinkled during the rite.
As if someone had foreseen exactly this, a fire was blazing in the hearth of the room where the crowns had been set. Warm sunlight and hot, dry air filled the space together; whatever was wet would dry soon enough.
When Laniakea took her place at the center of the waiting room, the maids hastened to strip away her ceremonial robes and at once brought the garments for the next rite.
Why must there be one set of robes for the consecration and another entirely for the coronation?
Could they not simply have used the same?
Just then, Hilde drew near and made her report.
“Everything on His Majesty the Emperor’s side is proceeding without incident as well. At this rate, the ceremony in the Grand Hall should conclude in about an hour, as planned.”
“I see. Then let us hurry and finish our own preparations.”
She had to change and be dressed anew. Once the damp cloth had dried, she would carry the crown to the Grand Hall.
The high priest will offer one more prayer, I will set the crown upon His Majesty, and that will be the end of it.
Of course, not everything would be over. Still, the most important duty of the day would be finished then. Afterward she need only sit and watch the ceremony, change once more, and attend the banquet.
Even at the banquet, there is nothing much to do beyond smiling and receiving greetings.
During a coronation, the imperial couple did not dance. But this was the spring banquet, so dancing for the guests would begin all the same.
What a relief.
She had eaten only enough that morning to take the edge off her hunger, and wearing heavy ceremonial robes all day had left her exhausted. Weeks of grueling work in preparation for today were catching up with her as well, fatigue gathering by slow degrees.
Stay sharp until the very end.
She only had to get through today. Tomorrow there was not a single appointment on the schedule.
First, I’m going to sleep without a single interruption.
If she slept until she could sleep no more, then rose at her leisure and did nothing at all for the rest of the day, she thought she would be perfectly happy. Waiting for that tomorrow, Laniakea put on the ceremonial robes the maids had brought.
Meanwhile they dressed their empress once more. They rebraided her slightly loosened hair in a different style and refreshed her makeup to match the color of the new robes.
The moment Laniakea drew on the last piece—the mantle—
“Heavens…”
Hilde and Chelsia, who had been assisting at her side, and even the maids, briefly covered their mouths with their hands and stared at Laniakea in a daze.
They knew well that their empress was a princess of Priatra, bearer of the Fairy Bloodline. From the first moment they had met her, her beauty had been extraordinary, and that beauty had not dimmed even when exhaustion hollowed her face. But today, adorned with every ounce of the maids’ skill, Laniakea was radiant. Every trace of weariness had been erased, and wrapped in splendor and loveliness, the empress shone so alone that it was difficult to believe she was human, as they were.
Gazing at her, Chelsia murmured.
“His Majesty the Emperor… I’m envious…”
On any other day, Hilde would have given her a light scolding for saying such a thing. Today, even Hilde nodded vigorously in agreement.
“His Majesty can fight, can’t he? Ha… this is going to be rough…”
Leaving Chelsia to go on muttering things no one quite understood, Laniakea turned to the mirror.
It was true that, of all the times she had been dressed, this was the most painstaking, and even to her own eyes she looked rather fine. But she did not like what she saw. The lavish ornaments, the ceremonial robes—they were far too heavy, far too brilliant. She felt the discomfort of wearing clothes that did not quite fit.
She knew the reason well enough. She still thought of herself as someone who would not remain here for long.
And yet…
What if I stayed?
The Imperial Palace was still a place that weighed on her. It was not the volume of work. The empress’s duties were, contrary to her expectations, manageable enough. What weighed on her was the way people looked at her.
Now and then, inside the palace, she encountered those newly risen to high office. They bowed to Laniakea with all due courtesy, yet they could not entirely hide the displeasure they nursed in their depths. Others might not have noticed, but she, scorned by her own family until she came of age, caught contempt directed at her with painful sharpness.
She did not care how they saw her. Those who had once followed the Empress Dowager had looked at her the same way. She had lived her whole life beneath such gazes; to be wounded by them now would have been almost absurd.
But when the sleeping Hyperion had opened his eyes, Laniakea had understood. She did not want this man to look at her that way. So she would leave before she ceased to be necessary to him.
Laniakea drew her gaze from the mirror. Whenever her heart threatened to waver, she would remember the look in his eyes. The more she did, the firmer her resolve would become.
“Come. Let us make ready to go as well.”
Time still remained, but there was no harm in preparing early.
Hilde and the others were smoothing their attire, about to set out for the Grand Hall, when a great commotion broke and one of the Jewel Bureau’s staff came tumbling in. He had entered without so much as a knock. Hilde was on the point of rebuking him for the discourtesy when he cried out, his face drained white.
“Th-the crown has vanished!”