Signs of Spring
Scoring a perfect mark on the written exam had been unexpected, but I'd known I would pass regardless, so it didn't exactly come as a shock.
What remained now was proof of my martial ability.
That, I was told, would be tested publicly when the fourth-year Knight Department students returned from their posting. It was a precaution against rumors that someone with no talent for magic might have leveraged imperial authority to secure an unfair admission.
I happened to agree with the reasoning, so I accepted the arrangement without complaint.
"...You seem to have quite a lot of time on your hands."
"How many people do you think I actually know at the Academy?"
We were sitting across from each other at a small café just outside the Academy dormitories, sipping tea. Lapis was absent for the moment, busy catching up with the classmates she'd spent three years building friendships with.
Lapis was the only daughter of Duke Asis—and the fiancée of me, the next Emperor. Plenty of people made a point of cultivating her acquaintance now, hoping to secure a comfortable position for themselves once we all graduated. The Asis Duchy treated talented people well, and since I had almost never appeared at official functions, anyone in the capital with an agenda tended to approach me through Lapis instead.
If I was the inner chamber, then Lapis was the door that led to it, I suppose. It hadn't been my intention to bolster her standing, but she was hardly the type to stab me in the back, so I didn't mind. If anything, I could only marvel at how adept she'd become at the art of navigating people.
Aria, on the other hand, had no one at her side but me.
In my past life we would have called her an outsider. I could roughly imagine how lonely her years at the Academy must have been—she probably hadn't shared a single meal with anyone else this whole time.
"What? Seeing Lapis out there socializing so conspicuously while I sit here all alone—does it make you pity me or something?"
"..."
Every time she read the thoughts right out of my head like that, a faint sense of wonder trailed after it.
"I'd accept your sympathy in any amount you care to offer. So then—will you stay by my side today?"
"If that's what you want."
When I answered with an easy smile instead of flinching, Aria let out a short laugh through her nose.
"You have this much composure, and yet somehow it takes you forever to steel yourself for anything. Some man, so desperate he's been granted a stay of execution, already showed me his chest and what's under his skirt—though I still can't bring myself to call him mine."
"...It won't take much longer. At least before I graduate from the Academy, I'll have finished preparing."
"Is that it? Stringing me along with pretty excuses because you think I'm prey already caught in your snare? What will you do if my eyes wander to another man?"
"Who knows. Unlike preparation, feelings don't lie. I imagine I'd wield the authority granted to me for the very first time. If being called a tyrant once or twice is the price of keeping you, I'd call that a fair trade."
"That's a first. Hearing that sticky honesty of yours out loud. It makes my stomach knot up."
Watching Aria jab a finger into her own navel, my hand twitched and nearly fumbled the teacup.
"...Where on earth did you pick up language like that?"
"There are a lot of taverns around here. Walk past enough of them, and you can't help seeing women fawning over men, whether you want to or not."
"Shall we change the subject? How's the thesis coming along?"
By default, graduating from the Magic Department earned you eligibility to enter the Magic Tower, and the score on your graduation thesis counted as a bonus toward that. The subject was, broadly, the composition of magic itself, and spells that many mages could cast efficiently earned the highest marks.
To compare it to my past life: the Academy was like university, and the Magic Tower like graduate school. Mages were rare treasures to begin with—even simply graduating from the Magic Department opened plenty of doors—but they couldn't hold a candle to anyone who had come out of the Tower.
Court mage positions demanded Tower graduates exclusively, and the same went for any earl's domain or higher that could field its own knight order. And for those who reached a high enough mastery, the seat of Tower Master itself naturally came into view.
"Read it, if you're curious."
With no apparent intention of hiding anything, Aria handed over her thesis. I began reading through it carefully.
But the further I read, the stronger the sense of déjà vu grew—and I realized this was a spell built on the principle of backdraft.
When a fire breaks out in a sealed space, the oxygen needed for combustion runs short and the flames sink into a smoldering state. If a sudden rush of oxygen floods in at that moment, the result is a violent, instantaneous explosion. Induce that process with mana, and since you're merely triggering a natural phenomenon, the mana expended should be minimal.
Which meant even moderately capable mages could use it—enough to command a fairly high score, I'd wager.
"Speaking as an amateur, it looks quite impressive to me."
"Yeah?"
"That reaction was lukewarm. Was it not important to you?"
"Even if it goes badly and I can't get into the Magic Tower under the Altair Dukedom, I've still got this one year while you finish steeling yourself—or so you claim."
So that was why she'd been pouring herself into her graduation thesis—she'd been building a situation that would let her stay by my side of her own accord.
Aria's way of closing the distance between us was awkward in places, grating, childish even. And yet, perhaps because of how brazenly she refused to hide what she felt, I couldn't bring myself to recoil from it.
"Wipe that dazed look off your face. Wait here a moment—I'm going to stop by the dorm and change into something casual."
"Oh... all right."
Watching her slip away from the table, I collected myself and took a sip of tea gone completely cold.
It had been a warm day. Spring was creeping closer, I supposed.
There could be no better season for forging connections. Passing the time quietly at the Academy wouldn't have been bad, but this was precisely where talent from every corner of the land converged—and I intended to dig for gems.
Those who scored well at the Academy were certainly gifted, but gifted was not the same as genius. And so I planned to borrow the power of my Dragon Tongue.
I would search for the kingmaker—the rare talent worthy of standing beside a king.
Having changed her clothes, Aria stepped out of her room and smoothed down her unruly hair as she caught her reflection in the window glass.
She couldn't remember when it had started—this feeling of wanting to look even a little prettier in Rohen's eyes.
Shall we get something to eat first?
"I'll leave the escorting to you."
It hadn't been his extraordinary ability that drew her in, nor his handsome looks, nor even the power of being the sole heir to the throne.
At first, it had surely been a corrosive inferiority complex—born of the fact that he, unlike her, had been born a boy. Then that feeling had curdled into resentment, soured into love and hate in equal measure, and finally, in the end, transformed into love outright.
Why was it so difficult to put into words? Emotions were never meant to be untangled into tidy logical proofs, so perhaps it was only natural. But if she had to name the reason, it was probably that he was the one person who had looked at her—straight and unflinching—for exactly who she was.
Her executed mother, blinded by jealousy and hunger for power, had poured all of that poison onto her. To Empress Cestia, now dead and gone, a daughter named Aria had been nothing more than a vessel for her emotional refuse.
Perhaps that was why she'd clung all the harder to the wet nurse who had filled the void where a mother's love should have been. Seen that way, Rohen stood on the same line as that wet nurse, who had been executed alongside her mother.
Only—while the attachment she'd formed as a child might once have let her accept him as family, time had changed things. Now she found herself drawn less to the mingled half of her blood than to the half that shared nothing with her at all.
In truth, Aria had known love before Rohen. As a child, she'd been grateful to anyone who showed her kindness, given her circumstances.
But of this much she was certain: she had stepped into love before, many times—but she had never, not once, fallen in it the way she had now.
"Stop sneaking glances at me. Honestly, it'd be easier if you just looked openly."
Walking beside her, Rohen gave a small jolt. Watching him, Aria allowed herself a quiet, private smile.
The bare legs she deliberately showed off in a short hem, the nape of her neck exposed by her tied-up hair, the line of her collarbones. Every time she caught Rohen's eyes darting toward them, a strange sense of relief settled in her chest.
She knew, deep down, how pathetic it was. But she was a coward, and without these little maneuvers she couldn't calm herself.
Mentioning other men who meant nothing from time to time, just to provoke his jealousy—that was the same thing.
It might look like she was playing up her charms far too sexually. But wasn't that exactly the difference between being his sister and being a woman? If Rohen saw her only as an older sister, he would never desire her. And if he saw her as she hoped—as a woman whose blood ran separate from his own—then he would.
Why?
Rohen had been staring at her, head tilted, a puzzled look on his face—which was probably why he'd written the note and held it up.
"Nothing."
There were so many things she wanted.
She wanted to take his hand when they walked like this. She wanted to sit somewhere atmospheric over wine—not just a simple meal—and pour out everything she kept inside. She wanted to hear Rohen's voice, low and earnest, whispering I love you against her ear.
But for now, she told herself this much was enough—and Aria turned her gaze to the scenery around them instead.