Chapter 92#

Chaise a la ReineChapter 92#

The scorching sunlight seeped into the room.

He had opened all the windows in an attempt to alleviate the heat, but the stifling air clung to the space as though it had anchored itself in place. Even the wind, it seemed, had grown weary and stilled in the afternoon hush. Only the noonday sun blazed on, baking the marble terrace with relentless intensity.

The light linen sheets prepared for summer proved useless against this level of heat. Even the canopy draped above the bed to cast some shade made little difference. Eugène, already in poor condition, found the damp shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin intolerable, yet he could not summon the energy to change.

Truly, his condition was the worst it had ever been.

His stomach felt hollow, as though the heat had drained it, and his limbs were slack, heavy with exhaustion. His temperature was clearly elevated beyond the norm. Though Eugène, with his years of physical discipline, was well accustomed to the aches of sore muscles, there was no preparing oneself for the aftereffects of being undone so thoroughly in places no training could reach.

… It is hot.

He curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his throbbing abdomen. Fortunately, there were no external wounds, but the swollen inside throbbed dully with every movement. His cheeks flushed more than usual, and he blinked slowly, dazed. Since he was feeling physically unwell, even his mind felt adrift, and despite his eyes being open, his thoughts were foggy and slow.

‘You seem to be running a fever. We hate to leave you like this… You need not come to the office today. Rest.’

Just before the morning ceremony, the man who had reduced Eugène to this state finally pulled himself away, murmuring with regret. He had promised to be gentle, yet had left Eugène thoroughly unraveled. In return, Eugène had struck him hard enough to bruise his shoulder black and blue, but the Emperor, somehow, had looked oddly refreshed.

He had brushed back the sweat-drenched hair sticking to Eugène’s forehead and then kissed the forehead repeatedjy. Even when Eugène brushed him off in irritation, he continued to kiss him ajj over his face. jt was not untij a mere fifteen minutes remained before the imperiaj ceremony that the man rejuctantjy departed.

Should I have hit his face instead of his shoulder? Eugène found himself thinking, irate from the Emperor’s give-and-take games. But of course, he had neither the courage nor the intent to go that far. Never mind the other man’s supreme status, he recoiled at the very idea of marring such a face.

… So it is the face, then? Is that the problem?

A deep UneaSe Stirred within EUgène aS he thoUght of the man who had beCome more than JUSt an Emperor to him. They had agreed to be loVerS, bUt that did not mean EUgène waS obligated to indUlge hiS eVery whim to thiS extent. He CoUld Certainly Stand hiS groUnd more than he did. And yet, time and again, he foUnd himSelf yielding. He woUld rationaliZe it eaCh time, drawing Up exCUSeS, bUt in trUth, thoSe were nothing more than ConVenient JUStifiCationS.

The reason Eugène kept giving in was, in the end, painfully simple. Once he considered someone to be his, he grew unreasonably soft toward them, and now, the Emperor had crossed that threshold.

Eugène had always been the type to give generously to those he cared for, even at his own expense, so long as it did not cause serious harm. And this deeply ingrained habit extended even to the one person who least needed such indulgence: the Emperor.

It was unthinkable that a man as astute as the Emperor, hypersensitive to power dynamics, would not have noticed. And as always, he had used that knowledge masterfully to his own advantage. He was a fine sovereign to his subjects, an exemplary father to his children, but as a lover, he was far from ideal.

He was like that not only during sex, but afterward as well, subtly willful and inconsiderate in his own way. He claimed that it would be too heartless to leave immediately after the act, and shamelessly stretched out beside Eugène without so much as asking. Even when Eugène was utterly exhausted and on the verge of collapse, he showed no intention of returning to his own chambers, and instead chattered incessantly until the break of dawn, wearing down Eugène’s patience.

To those dazzled by his radiant beauty, he might have seemed like the perfect gentleman for a polished courtly romance. But in truth, the Emperor behaved more like a teenage boy who had just fallen in love and was helplessly clingy.

Damn it, I cannot stay here any longer.

Lying limp in the sweltering heat, brooding over the Emperor, Eugène felt like some lovesick maiden pining away. The heat within the room seemed only to climb higher with time, and he doubted the comparison was far off. Beyond the open window, the terrace shimmered with heat, the sunlight scorching it until even mirages began to rise in waves. This, perhaps, was the sole drawback of a south-facing room with a fine view.

Mustering his strength, Eugène sat up and stripped off his damp shirt, pulling on a fresh one made of fine linen. He changed out of his sweat-dampened trousers and slipped on more comfortable shoes made of cloth instead of leather.

If only he could leave as he was, but this was the court, where even casual dressing required formality. The thought of having to don a vest and a justaucorps atop all this made him briefly feel faint, but he quickly resigned himself. Unless he intended to roast alive in his room, he had no choice but to dress.

He managed to assemble the lightest attire in his wardrobe and stepped outside. The corridor, usually teeming with people, was eerily quiet. The arched colonnade built along the sunlit side stood empty, not even an ant scuttling past. The chorus of cicadas rang so loudly it made his ears ache. It seemed everyone had hidden themselves away from this unbearable heat. Eugène sighed deeply and joined the procession of the hidden.

He deliberately avoided the fountain garden and the Mermaid’s Lake, where most courtiers would be gathered. There, he would no doubt find refreshing fountains, ladies revealing their pale ankles for the rare breeze, and luxurious refreshments bestowed by the Emperor, such as ice sherbet, lemonade, and sangria. But he would also find idle chatter and countless eyes upon him.

He had no desire to mingle with others in this stifling heat while his body was still unwell. So instead, he turned his steps toward the Imperial Library.

The Imperial Library, one of the largest archives in the Empire, had been meticulously designed from the outset to house rare and ancient books. Its ceilings were high, the structure well-ventilated, and most crucially, its windows were small to prevent the light from fading the delicate pages.

Besides, on a day like this, there would be few others so foolish as to venture there. In every respect, it was the perfect refuge.

His hunch proved correct. When he arrived, dragging his feet, even the librarians had left their posts. The air was humid, but still cooler than outside, and dim enough that he might just manage to endure it until evening.

He selected a few promising books from the shelves and retreated to a quiet corner. There, hidden in deep shade, he intended to weather the heat with the aid of a little reading.

“Is that you, Baron Amieux?”

However, it was at the very last moment that his plan went awry. The secluded seat Eugène had in mind was a spot so well-hidden that it could barely be seen from the outside, obscured by a bookshelf that blocked the view. Moreover, the small table nestled between two broad pillars was just large enough to seat three or four people reading together, completely concealing the occupant’s back from sight.

With its deep shade and secluded location, it was the perfect hiding place to avoid the eyes of others. But of course, Eugène was not the only one who knew of such a good spot.

“Your Grace, Duke La Mer.”

Eugène felt an awkward sense of dismay. The very place he had sought out to be alone already had a guest seated there. If that person happened to be someone difficult to face even in the company, then it was only natural to wish to excuse oneself and leave. Unfortunately, the man in question was not someone one could so easily flee from.