Chapter 9: The Terms of Fire

The imperial throne hall of Liang was bright with spring sunlight, but held the chill of old stone and older minds. The floors gleamed like glass, the crimson banners hung stiff, and incense curled through the air like breath held too long. This wasn't a court of peace. It was a battlefield dressed in silk.

Lin Ruoyi stood poised in her red ceremonial robe, the golden whip at her hip coiled like quiet warning. She didn't look at Yan Xuan as he entered, flanked by Si Yue and several members of his envoy—but she felt the shift. The kind of stillness that came before lightning.

The Emperor of Liang sat high on the throne, robed in black and gold, flanked by the Crown Prince and a small cluster of trusted aides.

"You've reviewed the proposal?" the Emperor asked, gaze settling on Ruoyi.

She stepped forward, voice steady. "Yes, Your Majesty. All three terms are documented and sealed by the Yan court."

A breath of silence.

Then:

"The third term remains unreasonable."

Minister Hu. Traditionalist. Veteran. Gray-bearded and sharper than most men half his age. He had served beside her father, General Lin, and often treated Ruoyi like a niece.

"To offer our strongest general as a bargaining chip—this is not diplomacy. It's surrender."

Low murmurs spread like smoke.

"Liang has held for years because of General Lin and his family," said another voice from the military row. "If we send his daughter away now, are we not discarding the very name that's protected our borders for a decade?"

Before another voice could rise, General Lin stepped forward.

His posture remained straight, but his voice was iron.

"If my daughter is to be bartered for peace," he said slowly, "then I wish I had died before I saw the day this court would shame itself like this."

Silence blanketed the hall.

"We were not made generals to be given away. Not by swords, not by scrolls, and certainly not by fear."

No one answered. Because no one dared.

"But if she stays," countered a younger noble after a beat, "the war continues. Yan is not a paper empire. Their soldiers are trained. Their healers are unmatched. Do we wait until every son lies buried before we call it peace?"

Another voice broke through, this time from the left wing.

"Enough men have died."

Minister Yao Xueling.

Fifth row. Administrative branch, foreign affairs. Her robe bore the crest of her house, the ink of recent mourning still fresh in her eyes.

"I've already lost one," she said. "Her brother—my betrothed. On the northern front. I will not lose my elder brother, Commander Yao, to another ambush. If peace comes by marriage, then let it come. No woman's life is worth more than a kingdom's future—not even hers."

Her voice didn't tremble. But the wound was visible in every syllable.

Commander Yao stepped forward quickly. "Xueling, stop. Your Majesty, my sister didn't mean that. Please forgive her for the impudence."

Ruoyi's shoulders stiffened. She didn't turn. Not toward Yao. Not toward the memory of her brother. Not toward the sting of betrayal in a voice she once trusted.

But her hands curled into fists. The woman who once wept in her arms now offered her up like a strategy. Loyalty, it seemed, had seasons too.

Then Yan Xuan's voice cut clean through the chamber.

"What a strange court you command, Emperor of Liang."

Every eye turned.

"You speak of peace while handing over your last shield. All for the illusion of quiet."

Several ministers visibly tensed. Even the Crown Prince frowned slightly.

But Yan Xuan wasn't finished.

"She's led your armies. She's carried the burden your sons could not. And now you call her a piece to be played? Traded for silence?"

He gave a low, amused laugh.

"If she the brilliant general marries me, at least she'll be treated like something earned—not discarded like an afterthought."

He looked at her then. For the first time.

Not like a soldier meeting an opponent.

Like a man seeing the woman who might very well become his future—and wondering if it would be worse to run or to stay.

That silenced the entire hall.

The Emperor's voice was calm. Too calm.

"This court will not be mocked."

"I mock the logic, not the court."

"The third term is not confirmed," the Emperor said finally. "And General Lin is not a woman to be handed over like tribute. We will revisit the matter after tonight's banquet."

He rose.

He did not look at Ruoyi.

That was what stung the most.

"Show our guests the hospitality Liang is known for."

Ruoyi bowed low.

But inside—

Something cracked.

Not her pride. That was still intact.

But the certainty that this court had ever been hers.

My court can't wait to send me away.

And the enemy prince—the one they fear—stands like I already belong to him.