My Wonderful Second Life

Chapter 65-A dying Sun

A room obscured by several heavy curtains that hang on a row of arched windows stood silent. They were of gold and silver, plain but of velvety material. Candles in the ceiling, on the rails, on the ornate tables and on the polished ground provided light, although never too much. The brightness was outside, a world away.

Inside, the walls were solid marble. Everything was rich. Full. Flawless. Everything seemed to fit in, except for the man who sat in the middle of it all. On a table made of pearl stone and gold. Cold as him. But perhaps not as harsh as he was.

The top of his desk was filled with papers and ink, the last soaking his fingers, ring, and robe. He did not mind; he did not feel it. The pain in his bones was too sharp for that. He tried again to sign the urgent order that had come and yet he always failed, ending with more ink on his hands, and letters made of shambles.

It was not a good day for Alexander. His bones cracked with each movement and his breath became rough whenever he bent down, trying yet again to sign the paper and to do his duty. His eyes watered with the effort, but he did not give up. He couldn't. Not yet. So he grabbed his quill with even more strength and willed himself to do what he need to do. Yet he failed, again. And again.

And frustration took over. Funny thing. He lost control and threw quill, papers, pots of inks, everything into the ground, pain be damned. Though it was still there. That never left.

Like the laughter at the back of his mind whenever he failed, whenever he lost a little of himself. It was maddening, and it was his fate.

"Alexander." the voice, soothing, familiar, belonged to Lady Di'Mello.

The emperor had not heard her enter, but in his state, with that laughter, it was not unusual. He looked up from his mess, to find the eyes of a friend, and not of a duchess. On her hands were a tray with two teacups and a teapot, while her cane, fully black with a crow's head, stayed safely secured in her lower arm by its beak.

"I thought I had maids for that." he said as he watched her stagger on her way to the table.

She said nothing of the mess. She simply put the tray on the now empty table before dragging a chair made of painted wood and comfortable cushions closer to him.

"Isn't better to see a friendlier face?" she asked, seating and pouring the tea for both of them. "Besides, their manners could have some improvement..."

Alexander could not stop himself from laughing. "Only you, my lady, to comment on the royal maids' etiquette."

She pushed the teacup to him; the fumes dancing around them. The aroma, sweet and tangy, filled the space. In the end, she raised her brow. "We can always improve and certainly they can... I shall talk with the Royal Head Maid about it."

Her tone was harsh. And he figured she must have caught them gossiping about him. He looked down at his shaking hands, stained in ink, before wrinkled fingers wrapped around them. His chin moved up, and he caught lady Di' Mello, his tutor, dipping the tip of a delicate handkerchief in her cup, before reaching to clean the ink away.

Her hands were gentle, and the warmness of the liquid brought comfort to his tired body. They stayed like that for a while.

In silence and in their thoughts.

"Do you remember..." she started, eyes down, smile on her lips. "When you and Salazar thought it was a brilliant idea to try out ink ballons on Emmanuel?"

Alexander did remember that, and his lips curved at the joyful memory. "But then we were caught by his little spies, who broke them when we were preparing the last balloons, so we could feel the full power of their sabotage."