The next morning, the palace awoke to a new order:
The Princess of Huang would marry the Emperor of Tianlong.
Red banners lined the corridors. Musicians tuned their instruments. Servants scurried like ants, preparing silk garments, gold jewelry, and priceless gifts.
But beneath the surface of celebration, the palace buzzed with something else.
Fear.
Resentment.
And whispers, thick as smoke.
Lin Yue sat in her private chambers, her lady-in-waiting, Feiyan, brushing out her long, black hair.
"Your Highness," Feiyan murmured cautiously, "there are... rumors."
Lin Yue met her maid’s eyes in the mirror. "Speak."
Feiyan hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as if the very walls had ears. "They say the Emperor is not merely seeking a wife. They say he seeks a vessel — a political pawn to bear him heirs, and then..." She faltered. "And then be discarded."
Lin Yue said nothing.
She did not need to be told. She had known the moment the proposal arrived.