Leonhard's campaign in the Northern Border lasted nearly three years. From the early days of warfare with the grassland tribes to the later unstoppable advance like a plow cutting through snow, every step was steeped in blood and frost.
Under Marcus's stewardship, the Overseas Trade Office became the kingdom's trendsetter, dealing in everything from Venetian glass lamps to Flemish brocade, from improved iron plows to automatic spinning wheels. With the expansion of trade routes and canals, marketplaces sprouted like spring buds across the land. Nobles took pride in collecting oriental painted porcelain and southern date honey—all of which eventually flowed into my treasury.
I generously allocated funds as military pay and issued a decree: merchants who transported supplies to the Northern Border themselves would receive a three-year tax exemption. Thus, the winds of the grasslands always carried the jingling of carts laden with ale and cured meat.
Leonhard only withdrew his forces after the grassland tribes retreated five hundred li and pressed their bloodied handprints on the surrender treaty.
"Marcus, what's the next move?" I asked, tracing the grassland pastures on the parchment map with my resting on the "horse training ground" marker. "I hear their cows and warhorses are sturdier than ours."
Marcus immediately pulled a scroll from his sleeve, his honey-golden hair glowing in the candlelight. "Although Your Majesty accepted their surrender, I knew you intended to truly bring the grasslands under our fold." He unfurled the document, still fragrant with fresh ink. "These are the trade clauses. I've ordered caravans to prepare silk and spices in exchange for their fine horses and cheese."
I nodded. "Civilization takes time. We'll proceed gradually."
Before I finished speaking, a smile tugged at my lips—Leonhard was returning, and that was the greatest joy of the day.
Marcus's expression stiffened for a moment, but when an attendant coughed outside the door, "Lord Chancellor has arrived," he immediately called out, "Show Lord Heinrich in!"
Heinrich entered slowly, his black robe with golden thread sweeping the Persian carpet. Upon hearing Marcus mention Leonhard's return, he indeed smiled. "Wonderful. Your Majesty must have missed him terribly."
Marcus stared wide-eyed, like he'd seen a ghost. "Wonderful?" When he noticed Heinrich and I looking at him, he quickly regained his smile, twirling a quill between his fingers. "Your Majesty has always shown great concern for General Leonhard. For him to rush back before your birthday makes me, the one organizing the celebration, look incompetent."
"You won't need to worry this year." I smiled, resting my chin on my hand. "My birthday gift must come from Leon himself."
In three years, his letters had flown in from the Northern snows, stacked high enough to stretch to the city gates. So when he left his army behind to ride alone into the royal city at night, I was not surprised in the least.
Once again, he knelt before me on one knee, his chainmail still carrying the scent of grassland winds. "Your Majesty, I have returned."
His face was sunburnt, fine lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, but his voice remained as clear as it had been in the training grounds. He pulled out the silk sachet from his breastplate—the one made from my chemise, its edges worn pale. "Every time I charged into battle, touching this made it feel like you were by my side."
My fingers brushed the faint scar on his browbone. "Truly unharmed?"
He was silent for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I thought of returning to see you, so I dared not get injured."
I unfastened the clasp of his chainmail, metal rings clinking to the floor. "Let me check."
The attendants had long been dismissed, leaving only the soft flicker of silver candlesticks in the chamber. Leonhard's breathing grew heavy, his knuckles white. "Your Majesty—"
He trembled all over but bit his lip, refusing to make a sound. I gently kicked his calf. "Shall I do it myself?"
Chainmail, linen shirt, and leather boots scattered across the carpet; the velvet bed curtains swayed. Leonhard buried his face in my neck, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "Eleanor... Ali..."
"I've gone mad... Every night I dream of you, waking in my tent with hands too shaky to hold a sword—"
I hooked the golden hair at the nape of his neck, whispering in his ear with a laugh. "We have all night."
"Don't surrender too soon."
He kissed me, tasting of grassland winds and blood. "Yes."
"I will never fail you, Your Majesty."
"Long live the King."
The next day was my birthday celebration. Amid the palace's silver bells and harp music, my already sore waist grew more languid.
The Empress Dowager sipped from a bone china teacup, amusement in her blue eyes. "I hear General Leon entered the city last night?"
I lowered my eyes to play with the pearl tassels on my skirt, my voice light. "He was eager to wish me a happy birthday today."
The Empress Dowager took a sip of floral tea. "It's not about having too little, but about fairness."
I chuckled. "Don't worry, Mother. I know where to draw the line."
She set down the teacup, the silver spoon clinking sharply. "All these years, your actions have always been unexpected, and palace rumors have never ceased. If it weren't for Heinrich..." She paused. "The gossip outside would have already overturned the court."
I gazed at the silver moon through the window, my fingers tracing the carved roses on the windowsill. "I've always said no one can compare to Heinrich in my heart."
But the heart is greedy. Besides Heinrich, I wanted more.
That night, Heinrich stayed in the main palace building. In the past, when he spent the night, he would play a few games of chess with me, strum the lute, discuss trivial court matters, and then retire to the antechamber. But now, with the candle burned down to half an inch, he still sat by the low table, rubbing ivory chess pieces between his fingers.
The ivory pieces clinked in his fingers. I watched his lowered lashes, waiting for him to speak.
"—Am I not good enough?" He suddenly looked up, his gray-blue eyes startlingly bright. "The entire Eberstadt clan swears allegiance to Your Majesty. Whatever you desire, I can make it happen—"
"Why Leon?" His Adam's apple bobbed. "I was the first to study the *Code* with you, the first to write the *Treatise on Divine Mandate*. I've loved you longer—"
I leaned closer, our noses almost touching. "Speak clearly."
A broken breath escaped his throat. "I am willing to offer—"
"Not that." I brushed his brow. "Speak from your heart."
His ears turned crimson, like roses singed by fire. "I love Your Majesty."
"Use my name." I laughed, biting his earlobe.
He whispered, "I love Eleanor."
I kissed his trembling lips, tasting mint on his mouth. "Good."
"I accept."
His arm around my waist tightened, his voice as hoarse as crumpled paper. "I'll give you everything."
I nipped his collarbone; he inhaled sharply. "Gently..."
But his movements were almost rough, pressing me into the velvet curtains, his nose brushing behind my ear. "You cannot reject me, Your Majesty."
He kissed my tears. "You are the only one in my heart, Your Majesty."
"Ask for my life, and it's yours."
No need for life, I thought, even as he pressed me against the mirror, the velvet curtains billowing in the night wind, his tears falling cold as Northern snow on my bare shoulders.