The King returned without announcement.
He arrived at the Inner Palace just past twilight, dust clinging to his robe hems, his expression unreadable beneath a veil of travel and silence. Whispers broke out before the dust had settled. Lanterns were re-lit. Courtyards swept.
And from among the dozens of waiting women, he called only one name.
"Summon Lady Liora."
The words sent tremors through the harem. Not even the Queen was called that night. Not even Iria.
---
A Stir in the Palace
Lady Zhen's voice was tight with disbelief. "He hasn't summoned her in weeks. Why now?"
Lady Wen, more measured, said, "Because the Queen nears her due, and he fears misfortune. Favor is safest when it shifts."
Servants murmured. Eunuchs scattered. Word reached even the outer corridors before Liora herself had moved.
She appeared in her finest muted silk, hair coiled with sea-pearls. She said nothing as the eunuchs escorted her to the King's hall, her steps slow but steady, her expression calm.
Inside, the King stood waiting — arms behind his back, moonlight catching in the silver of his collar.
He didn't greet her. He simply studied her, as if seeing something he had once owned but long forgotten.
"You do not write to me anymore," he said.
Liora bowed low. "I had nothing worthy to say, Your Majesty."
"Yet you are still here."
He stepped closer. A silence passed between them, thick and gilded with meaning.
"You smell of cinnamon," he added, more to himself.
He extended a hand.
And Liora, for the first time in many moons, allowed herself to be drawn forward — into his presence, into his warmth, and, perhaps, into danger again.
---
That Night
Liora woke before dawn, her breath shallow.
There had been no nightmares.
Only blood.
She rose quickly, fingers shaking. The silk beneath her thighs was warm and wet.
"No," she whispered. "No, no—"
She called for her maid. Jun came running. So did the midwife, then the physician, then two elder concubines who had seen this before.
But it was too late.
By the time the sun broke across the peach trees, the child was gone.
---
Summoned by the Queen
The Queen sent for her.
No explanation. No delay.
Liora, pale and empty, arrived at the Queen's pavilion beneath the vines. A servant poured sweet chrysanthemum tea. No one touched it.
"You bleed," the Queen said, her voice curiously flat.
Liora nodded once. "I bled."
"And Iria?"
A pause.
"Still untouched."
The Queen's hands tightened on her lap.
"The gods mock us," she said. "They lift up the ones with charm and useless beauty, and leave those who wait with ash in their mouths."
Liora watched her carefully. "You are not ash."
"No. I am fire." The Queen's eyes flicked toward the west. "And fire devours what fails to bow before it."
---
A Moment of Power
Later that day, as Liora stepped from the Queen's chambers, she saw something rare.
A concubine — no one of great rank — being slapped by a court maid loyal to Iria.
The girl, no older than sixteen, stumbled to her knees. The maid turned, proud.
And Liora, without hesitation, stepped forward.
"Raise your hand again," she said, "and I will see to it that you eat nothing but scraps for a month."
The maid froze.
"You forget who gave you your collar," Liora added coldly.
The girl behind her stared up with tears in her eyes.
Liora reached down and helped her to her feet. "What's your name?"
"Ruan"
"Then stay close, Ruan. I could use another pair of ears."
It was a small act — but deliberate.
Liora had made her first move.