Chapter 2: A glimpse of what remains

"Theo…"

Theo. This name suits you, and in this life, you… resemble yourself as much as it's possible. Actually, you resemble yourself even a little more than just being yourself. I run my hand through your thick chestnut hair, stroking your head resting on my lap, moving down to your bare back. We celebrated the coronation in our new chambers—hardly anything has changed since the time I bled here beside your corpse in my past life. But let's not talk about that. This time, everything will be different. The rooms are warm enough to lazily lie naked in bed on the snowy white silk sheets—after all, this is our honeymoon.

"What, my queen?"

"I'm so glad you agreed to take a mentor from the Order. How was your first lesson with this Lucian? You never got around to telling me."

" How could I?" you ask playfully, slipping your hand under the blanket I covered my breasts with, forcing me to catch and squeeze it to stop you. Eventually, we have business to attend to. 

"I wasn't against having a mentor, but all this talk about conspirators in the Order…"

"That's better. You'll be able to control what the Order is breathing only if you get closer to them."

"You mean spy on the Order through their spy? If he really is a spy, of course."

"That's what I love about you, my emperor."

I touch your neck, my fingers glide over the hot skin. You lean a bit closer, your voice drops:

"Is that all?"

"And the fact that you can't hold back."

You grab my wrist, flip me onto my back, but in a moment, I'm on top, pinning your hands to the silk sheets. I hear your laugh, feel how you feign defeat.

"We have work to do," I remind you.

"Yes. But one small victory for the emperor?"

"One. If you can handle Lucian, the Order, and all this madness."

"Schemer! But Lucian might actually teach me something useful. For example, did you know that the Chrono-divisions, when they were first formed two hundred years ago, didn't wear insignia because it was believed they were often captured by the Temporans and then switched sides? And at the academy, they told us they didn't give them uniforms because the Guild didn't want a bunch of weak desk scholars with underdeveloped chrono-bags to disgrace their battle name."

Mira knew about this. She was there when the Empress signed the decree creating the Chrono-Guild and allowing the Army to use chrono-rangers. They had just lost one of the two deposits of Ruby Oil, Fortiscule, and couldn't afford to lose the other one, so the price wasn't an issue.

"I'm telling you, he could be useful. Honestly, I like that he wears a simple suit and doesn't wrap himself in those purple cloaks like other high-ranking members of the Order."

"Or do you think they really believe in this occultism and don't know how the Law works? Yesterday, I got the feeling they don't really like sitting with monks on Tenebris when they could live so much more happily on Noctemar, earning money, crawling through casinos, and getting acquainted with the whores in the City?"

Theo laughed so hard he coughed.

"You think they care about whores? That's more of the Council's business. The Order preaches abstinence, economy, and obedience to the Law."

"Are they really like that?"

"I don't know", you finally say, rubbing your fingers over your nose. "If the Order is really playing a double game, I want to know all their rules."

"But do they really believe in the Law?"

Theo suddenly jumped up and started dressing.

"You're always like this! I'm the emperor now, and you're my wife. Do you understand the consequences for us if anyone finds out that you're questioning the Law?"

"What did I say?"

"There's a subtext in your words — a lack of trust in the Law! It's one thing not to trust the Order, and another not to trust the Law! Do you remember three, how the empire almost perished when they didn't listen to it?"

"But Theo, we both were educated at the Retgaron Academy. We believe in science, not occult knowledge. Questioning everything is our trait! I'm not suggesting ignoring the Law, just asking questions."

"Yes, but that was before I became Emperor. Please, be careful with your words. I'm going to the Council to take care of business, I'll see you at lunch."

I'm left alone and start getting ready too. In this room, there are things I try not to think about — the stone floor that remembers my blood, the silk curtains that won't hide the past, the smell of our morning coffee, absorbing more memories than it should.

A hot shower, even a brief one (even the emperor's chambers are subject to rationing!), charges me with energy. I don't call the maid, although the girl made a good impression on me — silent, but with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Maybe we'll become friends, but who knows who managed to recruit her earlier, so I'll be cautious for now.

What I will do is pay a visit to Amalia — I did some checking during the coronation yesterday and found out that she's not just alive but still in charge of Tower Security, just like ten years ago. Even her office hasn't changed location. Such snakes like Amalia are hard to kill.

Our chambers on Noctemar are located near the diplomatic corps. We occupy a separate floor of the Tower, the headquarters of the Council. Here they hold meetings and live with their families — the area around the Tower provides a decent defense from Their drones. 

Still, like the whole planet, it's very cold here, and as soon as I step out, I immediately raise my fur collar. It was a good idea to order several tailored cloaks with fur collars and hoods. However, I did bring some light dresses and suits to Noctemar to pretend to be surprised by how cold it is here.

Oh, this isn't even Retgaron with its winds, this cold seeps right to the bones! I quickly walk through the corridors with narrow Gothic windows, through which the wind still sneaks in. You can hear the its gusts through the calming buzz of the shield generators. They work on Ruby Oil, and before, there were leaks though the walls reminding blood stains. They are gone now and some renovations were obviously made to the ceilings and walls. It's good not to be reminded how blood-drenched these corridors really are, because, call it wishful thinking or now, I had a feeling that it will be very different this time.

There are hardly any people in the halls, and those who appear politely nod to their Queen.

I would remember these corridors in any condition, should you wake me up in the middle of the night. They came to me in dreams, both in happy and nightmare ones — this is the stage of our life, our theater. I dive onto the central spiral staircase and hurry to the 4th floor — while your meeting is still going on, Amalia is probably at her post, and no one will distract us.

Finally, here it is, her office — a tipsy clerk at the coronation yesterday didn't lie, and the plaque indeed says:

Amalia Drakwald, Captain

I can't suppress a smile when I think of Amalia. She was a good friend to me and didn't betray me in the previous iteration. Then, ten years ago, when I died, she was around 40. But what did I really know about Amalia?

Oh, there were many rumors about Amalia Drakwald, and none of them were boring. Here are some of the juiciest: they said she was the daughter of a Lord who hid his wealth after fleeing from Fortiskule before the Great Shift, taking with him millions' worth of Ruby Oil. Others, eager to peek into the private life of the redhead beauty, whispered that she was the lover of a fugitive temporan, and rumors said their genetic changes included an extraordinarily long and strong tongue, which kept the gossipers up at night. Amalia traveled a lot, and there were even rumors that she seduced and persuaded the daughter of a wealthy farmer on Zios to run away. There, in the apple orchards, she convinced the poor girl to steal some money and head for Noctemar. Supposedly, that's how she got the money to start her detective agency. Others said she was simply a spy working for the Guild. She was about 35 when the Council, after a long period of unofficial cooperation, hired Amalia to oversee Tower Security after several unpleasant incidents.

Unpleasant incidents… One of them cost me one of my lives.

I don't know the full story of this brilliant woman's life before we met, but one thing I knew for sure about Amalia — no one is better than her at controlling the situation in the Tower, and most likely, she already knows that I'm standing at her door. I did not see her at the coronation yesterday, but I am sure she was watching me, at least because that is what her job demanded.

I knocked and entered. Amalia greeted me with a sweet, detached smile, and with a nod of her head, dismissed her armed secretary.

"Welcome, Your Grace."

"Good afternoon, Captain Drakwald."

I didn't know if Amalia recognized me. I mean, if she knew that the next Consort knocking on her door would be me… again, but in another body. Before I died in the previous iteration, I had managed to send her a letter where I told her about myself. Before that, I hesitated for a long time whether I could trust her with my secret, but when things started to get messy, I made an impulsive decision. For some reason, I really wanted Amalia to know. Call it a weakness or a lack of strategic thinking — I have to be careful about who I share this information with, considering the intrigue in the empire. So, I sent her the letter, but I never got a reply — Amalia was at Orbiskarne at the time. So now, I have no idea if she recognized me, or if she received my letter back then, or if she believed it, or if it's even a good idea to try and figure it out.

Amalia put away the papers she was reading, and slowly took off her glove from her right hand and carefully placed it on the table. On her wrist, there was a thin silver bracelet with some kind of pendant—an item that wasn't there in the previous iteration. For some reason, I noticed it. Otherwise, she hadn't changed—still as dry, elegant in her everyday uniform, with her red hair (does she dye it now? It's not visible), neatly styled, and those devilish green eyes.

"Are you looking for something, Your Grace?" her voice was soft, almost melodic, but her eyes remained sharp, like blades.

I barely smiled.

"I'm looking for answers, Captain Drakwald. You wouldn't mind?"

"Answers?" Amalia leaned forward, her fingers lacing together. "That's a dangerous pursuit. Some questions cost more than they seem."

"Oh, I know that," I sat down across from her, comfortably resting my hands on the armrests of the chair. "But I think you're the one who can help me find them."

Her smile didn't change, but something in her gaze shifted. She wasn't just assessing me anymore—she was deciding something. Should she tell the truth? Lie? Or maybe pretend there was nothing to say?

"You haven't changed," — she finally said. Not "Your Grace." Just "you."

I felt something hot tighten inside me. The warmth of memories, painful, sharp, like the sting of a wound long buried but never fully healed. The heat of those memories pulsed through me, familiar yet bitter, a reminder of things I'd long tried to forget. I didn't know exactly what she meant, but her words triggered something deep within me, something I couldn't ignore. I was already bracing myself to ask, to demand an answer, though I wasn't sure I was ready to hear it.

And just at that moment, the office door opened without a knock.

A man stood in the doorway, wearing a dark cloak, his face hidden in the shadows. Amalia didn't even flinch.

"You're late," she said, without taking her eyes off me.

"You just didn't say you were expecting someone else," I heard myself say in a cracked voice, not breaking eye contact with the woman. 

The stranger took a step forward, and when the light fell on his face, I realized he wasn't just some random visitor.

I knew him. And he shouldn't be here. No, not that. He absolutely couldn't be here.