The cold moon hung like a hook. Ah-Yan must have fallen asleep. At this hour, the princess always gazes silently out the window, her breath shallow. Moonlight drapes over her like water-veiled silk, yet for a fleeting moment, I mistook it for the white mourning garments Han people wear to honor the dead.
I pondered the Emperor's decree; she dwelled on her departed husband.
"Your Highness," I called softly, unsurprised when she remained motionless. "His Majesty decrees: a worthy match in Shangjing awaits Your Highness, with swift matrimony urged. Pray receive this command."
Golden Blade Princess turned her abyssal-dark eyes upon me. "I've had but one husband in this life," she enunciated.
"Yet he was Han."
"What of Han blood?" Her voice sharpened, eyes blazing like ignited flames grief and restraint combusting into brilliance. "My husband was Han, but we'd have died for each other, as he proved. My own kin slew him, destroyed my child, and now demand remarriage?"
Her laughter trembled as candlelight caught what might've been tears. "I'll wed none, even unto death."
I watched her, the Emperor's icy words echoing: With that bastard child in the palace, she'll comply. You understand.
Lifting Ah-Yan's toy from the table, I murmured, "A mother should value her child's life, no?"
After prolonged silence came unexpected resolve: "Tell His Majesty I refuse. My life should've ended that day. Should harm befall Ah-Yan, I'll follow our family reunited in death."
No persuasion remained. Retreating, I reported to the chief steward, who clicked his tongue. "This old servant dares not relay such words. Inform His Majesty yourself."
I met his gaze, then obeyed directly.
The Emperor's rage erupted sword cleaving the table, wrath unsated. Thrice he nearly ordered their deaths, yet blood ties stayed his tongue.
But imperial fury demanded punishment: Ah-Yan was seized for royal upbringing.
You crave reunion? Then savor life's cruel severance.