CHAPTER 74: FAREWELL

Eques Consiliarius was one of the highest-ranking titles in the Empire. Only princes or princesses with legitimate claims to the throne could bestow it upon someone. In practice, it meant little more than serving as their closest aide.

The true value of the title lay in what came after. If the one you served ascended the throne, the rewards were immeasurable. Yet I had no desire to be entangled in succession struggles or forced to travel constantly to the capital. For that reason, I wanted no part of it.

But declining such titles was not an option. Refusal meant inviting needless trouble upon myself. Still, I held one immense advantage: I already knew who would seize the throne. I had read the novel. The crown would fall to the heir apparent, and it was his offer I ought to accept.

The third princess was scarcely mentioned in the story at all. Most likely, the crown prince would slay her or flee to another kingdom.

Because the novel’s protagonist, Magnus, was romantically involved with the earl’s daughter, the narrative often lingered on the imperial family.

The first prince was pragmatic, ruthless, and terrifyingly powerful. He seemed born for the throne; his intelligence and resolve made him one of the most dangerous figures in the palace. Anyone who dared oppose him, whether rival princes or entrenched nobles, eventually met defeat.

As the shadow of succession struggles loomed before me, I understood how precariously I was treading. The title of Eques Consiliarius sounded like a reward, but in truth it was nothing but a chain. The moment I accepted, the eyes of the palace would fix upon me. Every step, every decision, every glance would be measured. My loyalty would be tested.

Accepting the heir’s proposal could open the door to the future, yes, but it might also condemn me to live forever in his shadow. And shadows did not grant sunlight; they merely prolonged the lifespan of those who dwelled within them.

The third princess’s letter, however, smelled of another game entirely. For a figure absent even from history’s pages to approach me with promises of trade and diplomatic privileges... it meant she had managed to remain at the table, somehow. Walking in her shadow was to walk a vanishing path, yet perhaps for that very reason, it offered more freedom of movement.

I drew a deep breath. The navy seal on the parchment weighed heavily on my eyes.

"You see it too, don’t you, Rebecca?" My voice was low, steady. "These letters aren’t offers. They’re chains. They’re asking me to choose whose shackles I’ll wear."

Rebecca said nothing. Her ice-blue gaze lingered on me, and at the corner of her lips there was the faintest twitch. Compassion, or merciless acceptance. I could not tell.

"Leo," she said at last, "you could refuse both. If you reconcile with my father, he’ll make sure no harm comes to you. He is, after all, the strongest duke in the Empire."

"Do you truly believe that? Even if that old wolf were to accept me into the family, the duchess would lose her mind. I won’t disrupt your household. Still, for your sake, I’ll speak with him... but now, I must choose. And the one I choose will be the heir."

Rebecca’s brows lifted, a spark of approval mixed with the faintest flicker of concern. "Then prepare an answer that pleases him but doesn’t weaken you."

I looked again at the maps strewn across the desk; each line, each fortress, each pass was a bargaining chip. To walk in the heir’s shadow meant access to soldiers and resources, but it also meant eyes and spies everywhere. My acceptance had to be more than a salute; it had to be a chess move. A visible concession, cloaking an invisible gain.

When I composed my reply, every word was chosen with care. As dangerous as a blunt refusal was, so too was a seemingly humble "yes" threaded with conditions. _I accept_, I wrote, and then, separated by commas, I wove in my terms: autonomous local authority, explicit clauses guaranteeing my family’s safety, preferential rights in any future alliance, and limited but duty-specific command over any troops dispatched by the court.

Each clause proclaimed my loyalty to the prince, while at the same time keeping the keys to my own house out of his reach. Before sealing the letter, I added one last paragraph emphasizing my willingness to serve, subtly suggesting that his interests and mine were intertwined.

In the etiquette of the court, to do someone a favor was as binding as putting them in your debt. The ink had barely dried before I folded the letter, pressing my small, ornate seal alongside the dark blue one.

When Rebecca took the letter in hand, her face was its usual mask of composure, though a spark of satisfaction glimmered at the edges of her eyes. "Choose someone you trust to deliver this to the palace," she advised.

"You should go," I said. "You wear the best mask. As a duke’s daughter, you’ll serve as both emissary of the duchy and representative of the court. Let my name be nothing more than a supporting note. No one conveys loyalty and grace as naturally as you do. Besides, the road is already yours to travel."

She paused, weighed the proposal, then inclined her head. "A fine task. It will please both my father and you. But tell me, when will you visit? Your old home..."

"Soon," I replied, a faint curve tugging at my lips. "I must settle matters here first."

Rebecca slipped the letter carefully into the inner pocket of her coat. Her movements, as always, were graceful, deliberate. When her gaze returned to me, beneath the frost of her eyes flickered something deeper, something burning.

"But I’m leaving now, Leo," she murmured. "Before I go... perhaps we could spend some time together. A farewell worth remembering."

A subtle smile touched her lips, suggestive, inviting. The air between us thickened instantly, as though her words themselves had brushed against me. She stepped closer, her hand sliding to the edge of the desk, then drifting slowly toward me. First her fingers grazed my arm, then my chest. Through the fabric, they searched, as though seeking the skin beneath.

Her hand slid down, with a firm but gentle touch. She found my penis through my trousers and stroked it lightly with the palm of her hand. She began stroking it, slowly at first, then with a rhythmic pressure. My body reacted instantly, and my penis immediately stiffened.

"I guess you deserve a farewell.’"

-------

After bidding Rebecca "farewell," I saw her off, and by the time I finally reached my bedroom, it was already midnight. Annabel and I hadn’t been alone since our return, so as soon as I entered my room, I turned right around and went to Annabel’s bedroom.

When I gently cracked open the door, the room was dimly lit by candlelight. Annabel was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair; her long, wavy golden blonde curls cascaded down her back. When she saw me, her blue eyes sparkled, but her cheeks immediately flushed red, in that usual shy manner of hers.

"My lord? At this hour... do you need something?" her voice was filled with a sweet surprise.

I approached slowly, closing the door behind me. "No, everything’s fine. I just missed you. Rebecca off and... I wanted to be alone. With you," I said, smiling.

I extended my hands, and she stood up and hugged me. Her body was warm and soft, melting in my arms. I knew she loved me; I could feel it in her shy glances, in every touch. But at the same time, her timidity made her even more alluring, like a new discovery each time.

She rested her head against my chest, as if listening to my heartbeat. "I-I missed you t-too," she stammered, her voice trembling.

Her hands wandered lightly over my back. I leaned down and kissed her lips. It started with a soft, gentle kiss. When her lips touched mine, she responded with a small smile. I deepened the kiss, my tongue parting her lips, mingling in a sweet dance. My hands slid to her waist, pulling her toward me; our bodies pressed together.

Annabel’s breath quickened, but her shyness lingered. Her fingers trembled as they unbuttoned my shirt. I guided her toward the bed, and we sat down. I removed my shirt, then untied the laces of her nightgown.

Her skin glowed in the candlelight, smooth and inviting. I cupped her large breasts, gently caressing them; her nipples hardened, and a small moan escaped her lips.

"Ah! My lord... slowly," she whispered, but her eyes were closed, writhing in pleasure.

I leaned down and took one nipple into my mouth, circling it with my tongue, sucking. My other hand slipped between her legs, stroking her pussy over her underwear. Her vagina was already wet, hot and ready. I slowly slid my fingers inside, stimulating her with rhythmic movements, and Annabel’s hips rose involuntarily.

"Ah... I love you," she moaned, her shyness melting away.

I laid her on her back and spread her plump legs. I trailed my lips down her neck, to her belly, then lower.

I pulled off her underwear, touching my tongue to her pussy. I pulled off her underwear, touching my tongue to her pussy, and its sweet, moist taste filled my mouth.

I sucked on her clitoris, licking it with my tongue; Annabel’s hands gripped my hair, her moans echoing in the room.

"Please... My lord, I can’t take it," she begged, her body trembling. I undressed too, my penis hard and ready.

"Just call me Leo, Anna. I want you to shout my name when I come inside you."