The Empress's Solitude
The Imperial Palace was aglow with a brilliance only visible at night. Though the guest list for the salon was small, every corner of the palace was illuminated; in spaces lacking chandeliers, crystal orbs and candles were strategically placed to reflect the light. It was a night so bright that darkness dared not intrude.
Empress Lilian sat before her mirror, feeling a profound sense of listlessness. She was nearing forty-five, yet she remained youthful and beautiful. The voluptuous figure that had once captivated the Emperor remained unchanged, and her alluring face, though marked by a few fine lines, held its former charm. However, it had been so long since those sensual lips had worn a smile that she could no longer remember when it had last happened. Perhaps, she mused, she had not smiled even once since ascending to the position of Empress.
As she carefully applied rouge to her lips, she thought, "How truly fleeting wealth and glory are."
In her youth, she had believed that money alone would bring happiness. After acquiring wealth, she had convinced herself that she would finally be free once she attained noble status and high rank. But now, as Empress, she found she could do nothing and felt no joy whatsoever. The Emperor, with whom she had shared only a few nights of fleeting pleasure, was hardly a husband in any true sense. Her ladies-in-waiting were all spies sent by the Schwaben family, and the friends she kept in society were relationships curated by the same hand.
Though she was nominally the ruler of the Imperial Palace, every action had to be executed according to the dictates of the Schwaben. It was obvious, even without hearing it directly, that the high society she moved in—far from respecting a former dancer turned Empress—likely mocked her behind her back. She had entered the palace as a puppet of the Schwaben from the start; there was no helping it. Looking back, the wealth and glory she had once desired were nothing more than abstract concepts. She had never been an ambitious woman by nature.
Things had been better when Roella was young. Her daughter was, at least, her own. She could shower her with love, receive it in return, and put effort into her upbringing. But now that Roella was an adult, Lilian had returned to her solitude. At some point, her daughter had stopped taking an interest in her, and their conversations had dwindled. Once the time for maternal guidance had passed, the opportunity to influence her daughter’s life had vanished as well. At some point, even her own daughter had begun to feel like just another one of the Schwaben people surrounding her.
Lilian thought it fortunate that Roella had fallen in love with Ezekiel. It was not merely a matter of becoming a Duchess or an Empress; she was marrying the man she loved. Yet, the loneliness remained inescapable. The most painful part was that there was not a single person with whom she could share these thoughts.
"Still, I must do what is expected of me," Lilian thought, using her fingers to lift the corners of her mouth into a semblance of a smile. Since she had sent out the invitations in her own name, she could not simply fail to attend. Besides, it was a gathering Roella had arranged for her sake after so long. She wanted to enjoy it, if she could.
"Mother! Are you ready?"
As if reading her thoughts, Roella entered the powder room. Lilian turned to look at her. Dressed in a red gown that suited her perfectly, Roella was as lovely as a rose in full bloom.
"You look beautiful."
Roella did not deny it; she laughed, gave her voluminous skirt a light shake, and spun around. Lilian wanted to smile, but her lips felt fixed, refusing to obey her will.
"You look beautiful today as well, Mother."
"Thank you."
Roella had not been offering empty flattery. Her mother was still beautiful, and today was no exception. But Lilian, assuming it was merely a formal pleasantry, responded with indifference.
"Let's go now."
"Wasn't Duke Ezekiel supposed to come today? You should have him escort you."
"Ezekiel is already outside!"
"Ah, I see."
A sudden, heavy burden settled in Lilian's chest. She felt suffocated, but she could not voice her discomfort. The mother and daughter left the powder room arm in arm. Ezekiel, who had been waiting in the toilette room, bowed politely to her.
"Are you well, Your Majesty the Empress?"
"I am always well. It is a relief to see that you, too, remain unchanged, Duke."
Ezekiel simply offered her a faint, knowing smile. Lilian felt a suffocating pressure. Like petals caught in a breeze, Roella approached Ezekiel with a light step and linked her arm through his. Ezekiel spoke without a change in expression.
"I should be escorting the Empress, Roella."
"Ugh."
Roella let out a spoiled whine. However, Ezekiel gently unlinked her arm and offered his own to Lilian. It was only proper to escort the lady of the highest rank first. Lilian felt her body tremble for no reason, but she forced herself to endure it and took Ezekiel's arm. The two walked out first, and Roella followed behind without further complaint.
The bright lights illuminating the hallway reflected off Ezekiel's silver hair as if he were wearing a crown of platinum. Lilian gazed at the sight, mesmerized. The thought that she would eventually be the one to place a crown upon his head only made the sight more intoxicating.
A subtle tension hung among the guests in the salon. Everyone had guessed the reason why Princess Roella had invited Lady Laila, who had recently begun to gain fame. While it was an honor to attend a social gathering hosted by the Empress, it was uncomfortable to be present at a place intended to insult a lady. Moreover, Lady Laila was no one's enemy.
When Ezekiel appeared, escorting the Empress, everyone simultaneously bowed their knees in greeting. The sound of rustling silk filled the air.
Lilian sat on the dais as Ezekiel led her. She leaned toward Roella, who had come to sit beside her, and asked in a low voice, "What is that curtain for?"
The space was large compared to the number of guests, and about half of it was hidden behind a thin, white muslin cloth. It occupied too much of the central area to be mere decoration, and the way the guests were seated in a circle, leaving the center empty, made her wonder.
Roella smiled with a confident expression. "It's a music salon, Mother. It's a stage setup for today's performance."
"Does it require a stage setup?"
Usually, it was enough to invite a few singers or musicians to listen to and critique, or for guests confident in their own skills to show off their talents. But Roella spoke with absolute confidence.
"We are going to perform a short play today. You've heard of her, haven't you? Lady Laila."
"I believe I have."
"She said she went to great lengths to prepare this, especially since it's for you, Mother."
Roella said this with satisfaction. Lady Laila had informed her that she would personally participate in the short play even before Roella had requested it. Regardless of what others might say, Roella thought, the woman seemed to know her place. That was why she had specially granted her request to set up a stage in the Imperial Palace.
The guests whispered among themselves. They were likely talking about the fact that Lady Laila would be performing in person. Roella turned her head toward Ezekiel. He was sitting with a languid expression, merely swirling his wine glass. He didn't seem to have any intention of drinking; he looked bored.
"Ezekiel, are you that bored?"
"Who knows."
Ezekiel half-ignored Roella's comment. In the meantime, the lights went out, leaving only the center of the salon illuminated. It was more elaborate than she had expected, and Roella was slightly surprised.
Soon, a red-haired actress walked into the center of the salon with a light step and bowed to the audience. She then knelt before the Empress and, raising both hands, said:
"Please, listen. My fiancé has been bewitched by another woman."