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The touch, when it came, was almost nothing.It came near the end of a Council of Princes meeting. Cliopher, in the middle of handing his lord a final proclamation to be sealed, was distracted for a moment—less than a moment—by one of the princes knocking something off a table. A glass, perhaps, or a carafe of wine left over from the luncheon that had been provided. The sound, glass shattering on tile, reverberated through the otherwise silent room, followed by curses and shouts.In that moment—that tiny, barely perceptible moment—Cliopher startled enough that the edge of one of his knuckles brushed, whispered, grazed against one of his lord's fingertips.With anyone else, Cliopher might not have even noticed such an infinitesimal touch. But his lord wasn't anyone. He was the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Lord of Zunidh, and the Last Emperor of Astandalas. He was the heart of the world—once of five worlds—and even a thousand years after the Fall, subject to powerful, inalienable, magic-bound taboos.And in those thousand years since the Fall, Cliopher’s lord, his beloved Radiancy, had never once touched a single living soul. Not one of his household. Not one of his attendants. Not even one of the animals in the menagerie. Never. Not when the cost of a touch before the Fall had been death.Cliopher had enough time to gasp—to meet his lord’s shocked, horrified, terrified eyes—before his entire consciousness winked out of existence.***Cliopher blinked back into being still in the elegant meeting room of the Council of Princes. Time resumed its natural flow, unaffected by the breaching of the greatest of the Imperial taboos. He took a sharp breath, grateful for his Radiancy’s sake to somehow be alive. He would not have wanted his death on his lord’s conscience. Not when he’d been the one to make such a grievous error.Trembling slightly, Cliopher’s eyes darted around the room, expecting to find shock, censure, guards ready to make his arrest. Instead, he found the Prince of Amboloyo and the Prince of Western Dair standing at their places on the opposite side of the room, both speckled in liberal splashes of red. Two palace attendants knelt on the floor by them, carefully clearing away the broken glass and the rest of the spillage. So it was a carafe of wine, Cliopher thought. He winced. The cost of the princes’ ruined robes would likely amount to several months of his own generous salary.No wonder no one was looking at Cliopher. No one, at least, except him. Cliopher gasped and fell back a few steps, hit the edge of a chair and collapsed into it. But the new position did nothing to help matters. It simply meant he could steady himself, look up and see—Himself, as if looking in a mirror. Except there was no mirror—simply himself sitting in a chair staring at himself standing on the floor of the meeting room, back to the princes, head somehow lower than his own despite the fact he was sitting. The other him held the new proclamation almost carelessly in one hand as if he’d entirely forgotten it was there.Him—the other him, the other Cliopher Mdang—was staring at him, eyes flared wide with shock. Impossible, Cliopher thought.Not so impossible it seems, his Radiancy said, entirely flabbergasted. His lord's voice was so loud, practically echoing inside his head. Hastily, Cliopher turned to look behind him, but all he saw were Ludvic and Rhodin—steady, and solid, and gleaming in the formal panoply of the Imperial Guard. Both guards looked as if nothing was out of order, although the commander raised an eyebrow at Cliopher in question.He grimaced and turned back around. If the guards were there, his Radiancy had to be too. And Cliopher had heard his voice. He glanced around again. The other him stared at him with an expression that slowly melted from shock into cool, calm, serenity. The look, despite being on his own face, was familiar—so familiar.Cliopher's mouth dropped open. A knot of horror rose to his throat. A full-body tremor ran through his bones. No—not his bones. Cliopher glanced down, saw…white. Pearlescent white. Ahalo cloth, he recognized immediately, studded with clear jewels that might—probably were—diamonds. Yellow too, imperial yellow, peeking out from underneath the glorious top robe.Glorious and illustrious. Cliopher shivered violently, took a sharp breath, then pulled his hands from the arms of the chair into his lap. Hands, but most definitely not his hands, no matter that their elegant, long fingers were nearly as familiar as his own. He'd watched them a lot, constantly captivated by their beauty.You think my hands are beautiful? his lord asked, disbelieving. His eyes—the other Cliopher's eyes—widened again.Of course they are. Cliopher cheeks, his lord's cheeks, flushed hot at the thought. He hoped that he couldn't tell. That his Radiancy couldn't tell. His Radiancy, who was currently him—Cliopher Mdang, fifth-degree secretary.Cliopher choked on the treason of it. He started to stand—no, to leap from the chair so he could fall into the obeisances—
Don't move!
He froze at the command, confusion, uncertainty, panic rising in his chest—then, something else. A surge. A tide. A wave. No, a fire. A firestorm. It kindled deep within him, swamping all thought in a blaze of—He wanted to, needed to—Breathe, Cliopher! Breathe, his lord demanded. Look at me. Focus on me.Cliopher took a stuttering breath, a second, a third. What—
Don't think about it. Focus on me. Please.
It was the please that did it. The Last Emperor of Astandalas never had to plead for anything. Cliopher met his eyes—his own eyes—worried, anxious, frightened eyes. The fire at the heart of him flared in amazed recognition, then gentled to a fire ring full of warm, glowing embers.His lord smiled softly. Cliopher couldn't smile. But he could breathe, so he did. Breathed and gazed into his own dark eyes. His own tired eyes.You've been working far too hard, his lord said fondly. Once we get this sorted, you are going to take a long nap. But right now, we need to get out of this meeting.Yes, Cliopher acknowledged, not shifting his gaze in the slightest. Staring himself in the eyes should have been strange, wrong, disconcerting; instead, it was like having a rock to cling to in a storm. A calm, steady rock.You've always been my rock. His smile, his lord's smile, widened. Now, don't move. I'm going to put the proclamation down on the desk. Once I've backed away—three steps, you know the etiquette—press the seal to the bottom of the proclamation.Cliopher glanced down at his fingers, his Radiancy's fingers, one of which held the Imperial Signet. I—I can't, he denied. It'd be treason.His lord shook his head, Cliopher's head. You are me for the moment, my dear Cliopher—and I'm ordering you to do it. Hold steady now. I'm moving.Cliopher froze, watching, staring, gaping as he—his Radiancy, who was no one but Cliopher Mdang to everyone else—set the proclamation down on the desk, took exactly three steps backwards, then gave Cliopher a jaunty bow so unlike Cliopher himself that he managed to curl his lips slightly in the hint of a smile despite the seriousness of the situation.Of course, the etiquette wasn't quite right for their actual positions, Cliopher knew. As the Hands of the Emperor, he had his lord's trust, could physically pass the proclamation to his Radiancy directly. But his lord, his Radiancy, no doubt wanted to avoid any more risk, at least for the moment.How had Cliopher failed his beloved lord so utterly? The fire at the heart of him flared red-hot at his growing distress, filled his vision with a bright, brilliant, golden haze.Now, Cliopher! Always obedient to his lord's commands, Cliopher rose unthinkingly and cut his way through the strange, misty, glittering glow. Mesmerized by the multitudes of sharp golden lines, dancing eddies, and waves swirling before his eyes—all brightening the longer he watched them—Cliopher barely glanced at the proclamation as he curled the hand with the Imperial Signet into a fist and pressed the seal to the paper.The fire within him surged, flooded through his hand, then the seal, then the paper. Cliopher yanked his fingers away as if burned, swallowing reflexively. The Imperial Seal on the page looked nothing like it usually did; every line of it shimmered, glistened, practically glowed. While he’d known that the Imperial Seal was a magical artifact, he'd never seen its magic at work before. Because he, Cliopher Mdang, had no magic to see it with.Cliopher trembled, realizing exactly what the magnificent firestorm at the heart of him was—what the brilliant lines and waves and eddies filling the room were. His Radiancy's magic. The Lord of Zunidh's magic. Cliopher hadn't simply broken the greatest of the Imperial taboos, he'd separated Zunidh from the one meant to protect her.My dear lord, he whispered without speaking a word. How much risk did Zunidh now face because of him? Was there a level of treason beyond treason? There couldn't be anything worse than what he'd done except perhaps killing—No, this was far worse. He'd stolen his beloved lord's body, his magic, his—Stop it! His lord's cry of distress broke Cliopher from his rapidly spiraling guilt. He turned his head—faced himself, faced his lord. He had no words for the apology he owed. How could he even begin to ask for forgiveness?There was no serenity in his own eyes now, only distress and worry and desperate concern. Everything will be fine, his lord said, incredibly gently as if to a frightened bird. Gesture to the door. Ludvic and Rhodin will escort you back to the apartments. I'll be right behind you. We'll figure this out. I promise.Cliopher clung to his lord's promise, his confidence, his certainty. He gestured towards the door, a motion he knew from standing in his lord's shadow for centuries. Ludvic and Rhodin caught the signal, saluted as they would for his Radiancy, then turned to escort him out.Only as Cliopher stepped towards the door did the princes finally realize what was happening—that the Last Emperor was leaving, or at least the person they thought was the Last Emperor. Cliopher knotted his lord’s beautiful hands into the sleeves of his superlative robes, fighting back a shudder at the princes' obeisances—at what they signified, at the honor being bestowed upon him who'd failed his lord so utterly, so completely, so entirely.Cliopher held himself together longer than the disastrous wine bottle—all the way out of the meeting room and a dozen steps down the hallway beyond. But then, there, out of the eyes of Zunidh’s princes—although not from his lord; his lord remained firmly entrenched in his head and his heart—he stopped abruptly, stomach heaving as if he was being tossed and turned by a typhoon. He was drowning, caught in a rip with no sense of what way was up and what way was down. A miasma of light limned the walls—the magical lights of the palace and something else, something more. An overlay of lines and knots that clung to everything. A brilliant net the size of the Palace of Stars, of Zunidh, of the worlds beyond. Cliopher looked down, but the light clung to him too, in tangles and knots that spat and sparkled and sparked.Desperate for a breath, Cliopher shut his eyes, swallowed the bile trying to climb his throat, and drew in a long, audible breath. Does magic always feel like this? he asked desperately. How do you deal with it?His lord didn't even pretend that he wasn't listening to every thought in Cliopher's head. You’re seeing magic different than I. I feel it. I don’t see it—not like you apparently do.But how—Cliopher begged. The fire inside surged through him, seeking the tinder of his worry and his guilt and his fear. His eyes, despite being closed, filled with flashes of light and streaks of shimmering gold—the magic of Zunidh demanding attention.Breathe. Breathe, my dear Cliopher, his lord said softly, gently, affectionately. You brought peace out of Littleridge. You brought prosperity to the people of Zunidh. You woke me up and protected my fire even when it was little more than an ember. You can do this.Cliopher felt his Radiancy's confidence, his trust, his certainty. He'd let his lord down once. He couldn't, wouldn't do so again. He took a slow breath, then another, then another.Sometime later—not long as the door to the Council of Princes’ meeting room remained closed—a purposeful cough broke Cliopher’s fierce concentration. Rhodin. The spymaster had his free hand in front of his mouth, but Cliopher knew full-well his cough hadn’t been an accident.Both Ludvic and Rhodin stood at perfect attention a half-dozen feet away, their spears at the ready. As much as they looked like the perfect image of imperial guards, their eyes gave away what they were feeling—at least to Cliopher, who’d been their friend for many long years. Concern foremost, worry, possibly dread. They had to know that something was terribly wrong. They were with his Radiancy as often as Cliopher was, and their entire job was to pay attention—to pay attention and protect the Lord of Rising Stars.Cliopher could only imagine how furious they'd be once they learned what he'd done.***It was beyond strange not having to declare himself at the doors of the Imperial Apartments. But as soon as the imperial guards on the outer doors saw him—saw his Radiancy, even if it was only him, only Cliopher Mdang—they saluted perfectly, impressively, extraordinarily. Then, they stamped their spears and let him in. In through the main doors. In through each of the seven subsequent anterooms. Into his Radiancy’s study without him ever having to say a word.Every guard saluted. Every door opened. Cliopher felt sick each and every time.***His Radiancy’s study was much brighter than it usually was, lit by dazzling magic that glittered and sparkled and glowed nearly everywhere in the room. The mage lights. The gold-flecked ink bottle sitting on the desk. The jeweled nightingale that sang but once a year.At least the exquisite Voonran vase that he loved hadn't changed. It remained stunning, full of brilliant colours that reminded him of a Glorious Imperial bird-of-paradise, and—to his great delight—utterly, amazingly, spectacularly devoid of magic. Cliopher smiled at the vase as if it was an old friend. And here, in his dear lord’s study, it was.All that the study was missing was his Radiancy. Cliopher didn’t count, even if he looked like his lord at the moment. It hadn’t even been half-a-day but he already desperately missed the sight of his lord pacing his way around the study, his robes swirling magnificently, elegantly, beautifully in his wake. He wanted his Radiancy there with him, so he could meet his mesmerizing lion eyes and know that everything was well with the world.Everything will be fine. It has to be, Cliopher told himself, walking over to his own desk without thinking. Our fates are intertwined.Are they? his lord asked, his tone fascinated, questioning, curious. I’m quite certain I’d remember if you'd ever told me that.He blushed hot, glad his lord’s skin was so dark that he possibly, maybe, was hiding it. He wasn’t certain what to say, but given what he’d done to his lord, he had to say something. The first time I saw your picture, I thought, ‘our fates are intertwined,’ he admitted. I barely knew where Astandalas was, but I knew then that I had to find a way to go there—to get there, to find you. His Radiancy smiled in Cliopher’s head. It took you a while, he said regretfully, even as he radiated delight, and fondness, and—Cliopher had no idea what to make of his lord’s thoughts and emotions, so he tucked them all aside so he could focus. It took me five tries to pass the Service exams, he explained, not even trying to hide his embarrassment. I'd have found my way to you much sooner otherwise.
Five tries? Anyone else would have given up.
Cliopher hissed in protest—in his head and out loud to the consternation of both Rhodin and Ludvic. The two guards had taken up their usual positions on the door leading to the seventh anteroom; Cliopher had entirely forgotten they were there. I couldn't give up, he said finally, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. The admission made him feel incredibly fragile in the wake of his failure. All that it would take was the tiniest push and he’d shatter like the carafe of wine.Because you knew I was waiting for you. There was no question in his lord’s words, no censure—only delight, admiration, and wonder.His Radiancy’s pleasure soothed like an unexpected balm on a wound. Cliopher smiled softly, hoping his lord could feel his response as well as he'd been able to feel his lord's. Why I thought that the Emperor of Astandalas was waiting for me, I have no idea, he said. I only knew that I had to go. That I had to see if—Ludvic and Rhodin stamped their spears, recalling Cliopher to the physical world. “Sayo Mdang, my lord,” Ludvic said a few moments later, seemingly unaware of the ridiculousness of his statement.“Let him in,” Cliopher said, turning back from the window. It was more than a little disconcerting to hear his own words coming out in his lord’s melodic voice, but it was also a much-needed reminder. A pang of guilt seared through him. He’d been enjoying his lord’s presence in his mind far too much; he needed to focus on solving the enormous problem at hand.As he tried to choke back the fresh wave of guilt, he walked in—Cliopher's Radiancy, who was also him, Cliopher Mdang, to all appearances. Before Cliopher could say a word, or even think one, his lord stepped into the middle of the study and made Cliopher's usual obeisances.Cliopher’s mind went utterly blank as he stared at himself, stared at his dear lord who he'd never seen kneel to anyone kneeling to him. Surely he shouldn't be; Cliopher was the one who should—Don’t you dare, my dear…Cliopher. Conju would never forgive you for mussing up those robes, his lord said, his humour, and fondness, and affection warming Cliopher entirely from the inside, pushing aside much of Cliopher’s guilt. A second later, his lord added, Are you going to let me stand?Without thinking, Cliopher made the gesture to rise. This is ridiculous.His lord stood, then grinned unrepentantly at him. Of course it is, my dear—but there's no harm in having a bit of fun given the opportunity, don’t you think?How are you not worried, or upset at me? Cliopher wondered, amazed at how relaxed his lord felt in his head, how comfortable, how content.As if I could ever be upset with you, my dear, his Radiancy said—and there was no way Cliopher could disbelieve him, not when he could feel his lord's care so clearly.My love, his Radiancy corrected. If we're being honest with each other.Cliopher was quite certain he had to be glowing. His lord loved him. He had no idea why, but he knew that he did.I love you, his Radiancy corrected again, gently but firmly. Me. Not your lord. Not your emperor. Me. And he did. Oh, how he did. Cliopher felt the strength of his—not his lord’s—his beloved's love to the very depths of his being, felt it in the crackling flames of his beloved's magic burning at the core of him—a fire blazing with all of the truths his beloved had never before been able to speak.Cliopher’s heart ached fiercely, joyfully, wondrously; it ached with the resonance of the question his beloved wasn't asking—the question he would never ask. Cliopher swore that he wouldn’t ever have to. My beloved, Cliopher said passionately. Always. Forever. Longer if it's possible.Everything within them tangled together. Love and thought, magic and emotion. I'd hold you if you could, Cliopher said wistfully, longingly, desperately wanting.We should probably touch again, his beloved said helpfully. It should shift us back. Magic like this tends to work in pairs. Since it worked in one direction, it should work in the other.Cliopher’s eyes widened at the simplicity of it. That’s it? But what about the—the broken taboo?His beloved smiled. You said it yourself, my dear. Our fates are intertwined. I’m quite certain this unique connection that we have is a gift from the gods. The taboos aren’t gone. Our connection is simply circumventing them.Are you certain? Cliopher asked, hope kindling in his heart like his lord’s fire.
Well, I suppose could be wrong. But it would be ridiculous for us not to try it, don’t you think?
Cliopher couldn't help but shake his head at his beloved's complete lack of concern. I—I suppose so?Excellent. His beloved grinned. Cliopher grinned. They both grinned so it didn't matter for a time who exactly was who.***“Commander Omo. Ser Rhodin. I expect you noticed something was wrong?” Cliopher’s beloved asked when they managed to stop gazing and grinning so helplessly at each other.Ludvic didn’t even twitch, simply saluted Cliopher—the Cliopher that was also the Last Emperor of Astandalas. “I saw the touch, my lord.”“Yes, Glorious One,” Rhodin agreed. After giving his own salute, he turned to Cliopher. “You should really consider working on your acting skills if you plan to do this again, Cliopher. You're lucky the princes were distracted.”Cliopher cleared his throat. “It isn't as if I planned to switch bodies with the Lord of Rising Stars, Rhodin.”“I'm sure you will rectify that soon enough, won't you my dear?” his beloved said, fondness radiating through his words and through every part of Cliopher. “Protocol 281, perhaps?”Cliopher shook his head seriously, trying not to be distracted by the shocked and amused glances the two guards—two of his dearest friends—were sharing. “It would need to be Protocol 282, beloved.”***The touch, when it came, was everything. It wasn't a brush, or a whisper, or a graze. It was a fierce embrace—their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked together, thoughts twined together.Cliopher missed the moment his soul returned to its proper place—when his beloved's returned to its proper place—too busy trying to cling to his beloved's thoughts, not wanting to give them up.A warm hand patted his back—hesitantly, softly, ever-so-gently. I'm here, my dear. I'm here. Cliopher leaned into his beloved's embrace, trembling with relief at his thoughts, at his feelings, at his utterly blazing love. He raised his head so he could drink in his beloved's face, lose himself in the Lion's Eyes that he loved so much.You love my eyes? his beloved asked.I love your everything, Cliopher admitted, not even trying to hide the truth. What would be the point? His beloved could hear every thought in his head.I love that you're blushing, my dear, his beloved said with joyful delight—a delight only surpassed by the wonder of having Cliopher in his arms. Then, he hadn't touched anyone in over a thousand years. Of course he'd be feeling—Stop it, his beloved said firmly. You know the truth just as well as I do.Cliopher huffed. While he might know the truth, it would probably take quite some time before he was able to fully believe it. And it had only been a few bells since he'd failed—No. Cliopher couldn't call what had happened a failure. Not when he was holding his beloved in his arms. Not when his beloved was holding him and quite possibly never letting go.He met his beloved’s eyes—smiled fondly, affectionately, with humour. I believe we owe whoever knocked that wine over a rather large thanks.