CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Peacock’s Gaze

Lady Hua's chambers were filled with scent — sandalwood, amber, and something sharper beneath, like the snap of cold metal hidden in perfume. Her twin daughters, still young, played in the side hall, their laughter muffled by the silken screens.

She sat by her mirror, unmoving, while her attendant brushed out her ink-black hair.

"Elira thinks I am blind," she said calmly.

The attendant glanced up. "My lady?"

"She thinks I am all silk and perfume and no teeth."

The brush moved more carefully now.

"And Lady Liora?" the girl asked after a moment.

Hua's lips curved. "She forgets that the foreigner watches."

---

The court did not often speak of Hua's past — not because they didn't know it, but because they didn't understand it.

She came from a kingdom across the southern sea, where war had left her father dead and her blood valuable. A "peace offering" they'd called it — her entry into the Emperor's household.

But peace was never her goal.

Survival was.

And then, something more.

---

When the news came of Zhen's alliance with Liora, Lady Hua simply lit a stick of jasmine incense and stared into its smoke.

"A concubine without power," she murmured, "gathers the weakest to her side."

But the words did not hold contempt. Only calculation.

She sent for her physician quietly, who confirmed what she already knew.

She was pregnant again.

She stared down at her hands.

Another child. Another chance.

---

Later that week, Lady Hua crossed paths with Elira in the Temple of the Serene Moon. Elira stood before the shrine with feigned humility, dressed in soft lavender silks.

"Lady Hua," she said, voice like honey. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Hua bowed her head. "I am told it is still early."

"Even so," Elira smiled. "I would be honored to assist with a blessing for your child. Perhaps a small prayer circle... led by my people."

Hua met her gaze. "That is generous. But I was considering asking Lady Liora."

Elira's smile cooled. "Liora is… preoccupied with grief. And fantasies of influence."

"Even grief can be useful," Hua said mildly. "It makes a woman hungry. And hunger makes her move."

"Some movements end in ruin," Elira replied, voice sharpening like a drawn blade.

Hua only dipped her head. "And some end in thrones."

She walked away before Elira could answer.

---

That evening, Hua sat alone at her writing desk and penned two letters.

One, to her uncle across the sea — encoded in the language of trade and tides.

The second, to Liora.

Short. Courteous.

"Shall we share tea? There is strength in quiet things."