CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Queen’s Table
The invitation arrived on pale silk paper, sealed in gold wax with the Queen's crest.
A "banquet of harmony," it read. An evening to honor the King's devoted women — and to celebrate the "shared virtues" that upheld the harem.
Liora read it twice, then set it down beside her tea.
"Does she expect us to kneel and sing her praises?" Ami muttered.
"No," Liora said quietly. "She expects us to tear each other apart trying to."
---
The Hall of Tranquil Bloom was lit with over a thousand lanterns. Servants moved like shadows, brushing incense through the air. Golden dragons twined along the pillars, their eyes catching the candlelight.
The concubines arrived in rank. Elira, as Virtuous Consort, entered in shimmering rose brocade — every hairpin a subtle message of status. Lady Hua followed in crimson silk, her exotic headdress drawing a hundred glances. Lady Mei, understated and pale, looked like a ghost among them.
When Liora entered — late, but not impolitely so — the room hushed for half a breath.
She wore pale blue, soft and unembellished, her hair adorned only with a single jade comb.
A deliberate choice.
A direct challenge.
She was not here to dazzle. She was here to endure.
---
The Queen sat beneath the imperial canopy, dressed in imperial gold. Beside her was an empty space — once meant for the previous Noble Consort. She glanced at Liora, her smile unreadable.
"Lady Liora," she said. "So glad you could rise from your mourning to join us."
The words were a knife wrapped in silk.
Liora bowed. "Your Majesty's invitation was healing in itself."
A few heads turned.
The Queen's gaze lingered. "Be seated."
She gestured to a space not quite at the far end of the table — but not among the favored few either.
Elira smiled softly as Liora passed her. "Blue suits humility," she murmured.
"And rose suits thorns," Liora replied.
Their eyes met only for a breath, but the chill between them turned heads again.
---
The banquet began with music. Dancers, silk-sleeved and silent-footed, glided between dishes of honeyed duck, lotus root, and sugared plum.
The Queen made polite conversation — never with Liora, and always within Liora's earshot.
"So generous of Lady Elira to provide gifts to the temple this week. Such devotion is rare."
"I do what I can," Elira answered humbly, eyes flicking toward Liora. "One must atone for the misfortunes of the palace."
A ripple of laughter followed.
Liora sipped her tea.
She said nothing.
Not until dessert was served: osmanthus jelly with silver-leaf.
Then she stood.
"If it please Your Majesty," Liora said softly, "I would offer a gift as well."
The Queen looked up, intrigued. "Speak."
Liora turned to one of the younger attendants, a quiet concubine named Yun who had spoken kindly to her just days ago.
"I hear Lady Yun has a sister in the city temple, struck with illness. If Her Majesty permits, I would like to send medicine on her behalf — as my offering to the heavens."
The room stilled.
The Queen's expression didn't flicker. "Kindness from the suffering," she said at last. "It honors us all."
Liora bowed again.
But she didn't miss the narrowing of Elira's eyes.
---
That night, word spread quickly.
That Liora had spoken at the Queen's banquet.
That she had offered generosity instead of grief.
That the Queen had neither silenced her nor scolded her.
And for the first time, the name Liora was spoken not with pity — but with a hint of respect.