Chapter 14
14. The Jacket’s Completion and Pomegranate Eyes
Place a Bookmark
A week had passed since I came to the Imperial Palace.
When I informed His Majesty Aleksanteri that his jacket was finished, he hurried through his official duties and returned to the palace in time for tea.
“Welcome home, Your Majesty Aleksanteri.”
“I’m back, Reisie.”
His skin, untouched by the sun, was very pale; when he smiled, the corners of his eyes flushed a soft pink. I could not tell if it was because he was pleased or embarrassed, but I was astonished anew at how breathtakingly beautiful a smile could be on such a face.
Since I began living in the Imperial Palace, I was rubbed daily with costly, fragrant body creams, used the finest lotions and milks, and had my hair combed with superior oils. I felt I had improved somewhat in appearance. Yet, the face reflected in the mirror was still plain and without radiance.
It wasn’t something I brooded over, but compared to Aleksanteri’s dazzling features, I could never help but feel overwhelmed.
“I heard the jacket was ready, so since today was only paperwork, I finished it all in a rush. May I see the jacket you made me, Reisie?”
“I poured my heart into it for Your Majesty. Please try it on. If there is even the slightest discomfort, I will make adjustments.”
Upon entering the tea room, His Majesty eagerly removed his outer coat and slipped into the jacket I had made. His long coat trimmed in red and gold had always suited him well, but this new jacket, trimmed with purple at the hem, sleeves, and collar, and embroidered with delicate blue vine motifs, suited him just as perfectly.
At his command, a maid brought a mirror. His Majesty studied his reflection, then traced the vine embroidery on the hem with his fingertips, his face bright with delight.
“You embroidered this design yourself. I was once saved by this pattern.”
“You know this motif, Your Majesty?”
“Yes. I was told it is a design passed down in a border village. Someone dear to me once embroidered these blue vines onto my clothing. It is a treasured memory. Thank you, Reisie.”
Someone dear to him.
Was that person someone His Majesty loved?
The Dowager Empress once said the late Emperor was deeply devoted to one woman. Perhaps Aleksanteri, too, still cherished someone in his heart—and that is why he refused marriage.
“I am always on Your Majesty’s side, you know!”
“I’m so glad Reisie is my ally.”
If he had chosen me merely as a temporary consort or substitute because he could not marry the one he loved, then I would still resolve to support him. The idea of bearing children frightened me, but political marriages were often like that. If that was what was expected of me, then I would fulfill my duty.
Did His Majesty ever confess his feelings to that dear person?
What answer did he receive?
A sharp pain stirred in my chest at the thought, and I forced myself to stop thinking.
“Please move your arms lightly. Do you feel any restriction?”
“It fits so well, as if it were made only for me. Wonderfully comfortable.”
“Then I am relieved.”
Seeing there was no need for corrections, I felt reassured. I was overjoyed that His Majesty was satisfied. Now, I could finally begin work on the dress for the betrothal ceremony. Only a week remained, so I would have to begin at once.
“I’d like to wear it always, but it would be bad if I stained it. Regrettably, I’ll change back. I’ll wear it at the betrothal ceremony, and afterward on important days.”
“If ever time permits, I will gladly make more.”
“But now you have none to spare, isn’t that so? I shall look forward to the betrothal gown.”
After His Majesty sat at the tea room table, I too was allowed to take a seat.
Tea was served in pale blue cups with silver trim.
“Does Your Majesty favor blue and light blue?”
Since the Emperor’s official color was red, I always pictured him dressed in garments trimmed with red and gold. But he seemed to cherish a handkerchief embroidered with blue vines, and whenever we had tea, the maids hurried to prepare blue-toned cups. I guessed this must be his preference.
“Emperors have always had crimson eyes. My father did, too. My grandfather, though he died before I was born, also had them, so they say. Thus, red was chosen as the Emperor’s color.”
“I see. And Your Majesty’s eyes are a shade of pomegranate.”
“Pomegranate… you too compare them to that. Because the Emperor’s color is red, I often wear it, but truthfully, I prefer blue and purple.”
“You too,” he had said.
So there was another who once likened his eyes to pomegranates.
—“Your eyes look just like garnet stones. I’ll call you Garnie!”
My voice from a dream rang in my ears, and I was shaken.
Aleksanteri was tall, imposing, dazzlingly beautiful—nothing like the little “Garnie” in my dreams.
That six-year-old boy had been small, adorable, soft as mochi, and even grown, he would have been shorter than me, still irresistibly cute.
Aleksanteri could not possibly resemble him.
Though their eyes shared a pomegranate-red hue, Garnie had darker hair, and his face had been sweet like a girl’s, not perfectly sculpted like this.
Driving away the strange thought, I took a slice of quiche onto my plate. With its buttery crust, quiche had been a rare luxury for me in my poor baron’s household. Now that I had it with tea, I could never resist its deliciousness.
At first, I thought I must eat everything placed before me, but Lady Laval gently corrected me:
“Lady Reisie, anything you leave untouched is passed down to the servants. Please eat only as much as you wish. If you try to finish everything, you’ll lose your figure.”
Since I now had exquisite gowns tailored to my body, it would be heartbreaking if my shape changed and they no longer fit. After her advice, I stopped forcing myself and ate only what I could, leaving the rest to be taken away.
“Reisie, you always eat so happily. It makes me want to join you.”
“This quiche is excellent. You should try it, Your Majesty.”
“Then I shall… yes, it is delicious indeed.”
The quiche, with mushrooms and sausage and fresh eggs, was exquisite. I nibbled slowly, reluctant to finish, when His Majesty murmured with quiet earnestness:
“After I lost someone precious, eating became nothing but a duty. Food was like sand, breath like shards of glass—life itself a torment. But since you came, Reisie, every day has been filled with happiness and joy.”
“You… lost someone dear?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. I instantly regretted it—what if I had forced him to recall painful memories?
His Majesty lowered his gaze, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
“After my father was assassinated. Though I was sent into hiding, the pursuers caught up. They killed the one most dear to me. My uncle’s forces arrived only moments later. I raged at them—if they had come just minutes sooner, my beloved would have lived.”
His voice was quiet, yet heavy, each word weighted like blood spilled.
I sat silent, unable to respond. Then he lifted his face suddenly.
“It was unbearable… until I met you, Reisie. With you beside me, I know this world is not only darkness and despair. There is hope.”
“Why… why me, Your Majesty?”
I had never done anything to save him. Surely, when he sought to marry me, he had investigated my background. But what did he really know of me? Wasn’t he mistaking me for someone else?
“Simply because you are you, Reisie. That alone saves me. I am grateful.”
It was not quite an answer, but seeing his sincerity, I told myself it was truth enough.
After tea, I returned to work on my gown.
I drafted patterns, cut cloth according to them, stitched the pieces, tried them on, and adjusted where necessary. Once the fabric prototype was perfected, I began cutting the true fabric for sewing. Cutting the cloth was the most nerve-racking step; once that was done, even mistakes could be undone by ripping seams.
While I worked intently, a knock came at the door.
There in the hall stood His Majesty, carrying a tray with a glass dish, a fork, and a cup.
“I thought you might like a break. Do you enjoy peaches?”
“I love them.”
I accepted the tray: perfectly peeled and sliced peaches gleamed in the dish, and the glass held warm, gentle tea.
“Don’t overwork yourself. Do your best.”
“Yes, thank you.”
After he left, I sat on the sofa with the peaches and tea.
Did I ever tell him how much I liked fruit?
The peach was fully ripe, meltingly sweet, and overflowing with juice.
