“There’s more, JingYi.”
She faced him. She didn’t know what else was left to take.
“My mother was the reason the palace turned on your mother.”
Her teeth pressed together, her molars grinding, the only warning her body gave her before something inside her locked into place.
She wanted to laugh. She should’ve known: There were roots to every tragedy, and hers happened to be one consort’s ambition.
The second silence.The deadliest of all:A blade in the dark. The patient stillness of a concubine orchestrating a rival’s fall.
“She was the one who first whispered the lie,” ShunLi went on, “that you were the stablemaster’s daughter. She saw how much the emperor favoured Imperial Consort Jing Mei. She wanted to end it before it took root. Before more Alpha sons were born to challenge me.”
JingYi’s fingers found the edge of her sleeve and began to rub—back and forth, back and forth—the way she might examine a wound before deciding how deep it ran. Everything slotted into place. ShunLi’s mother, the Dowager Shun Min, had set her sights on the crown for her only son—the fourth Alpha prince. She had maneuvered each piece accordingly. Sent him to Tremore under the guise of diplomacy while his three elder Alpha half-brothers tore each other apart.
Each death had thinned the line. Each time, Shun Min’s hands remained clean.
But that hadn’t been enough. She had planned insurance so ShunLi’s path remained unobstructed, cutting off potential adversaries before they could even be conceived.
And when the emperor’s gaze on Jing Mei lingered long after it should have passed, it had made her a threat.
And JingYi? A minor casualty.
Her thumb stopped rubbing. She pressed it flat against her thigh.
“All this time.” Her voice came out thin, reedy. “You knew?”
ShunLi’s jaw worked. “By the time I discovered it, your mother had passed. You were buried in the shadows of the Jade Mortar Hall, and the lie had taken root too deep to pull free. It didn’t matter that your mark was no proof of anything but coincidence. The court had chosen its story, and the emperor was content to let it stand.”
He paused. “I watched you when I could. Drove off the boys who tried to assault you.” His voice dropped, and for the first time, his gaze lowered. “But it didn’t absolve the wrongs done to you. I know that.”
JingYi’s hands stayed in her lap, fingers bloodless at the knuckles. She uncurled them one by one, forcing blood back into the joints.
“The Dowager didn’t need proof,” she murmured. “Only a whisper. She knew the court would believe it.”
Silence.
“She planted the rumour,” ShunLi said at last, “and we all let it grow.”
CHAPTER 64
JINGYI
JingYi couldn’t remember walking out of Magnolia Palace. Her feet simply moved, carrying her through pathways she didn’t recognize, past gardens she didn’t see.
She didn’t think she was heading anywhere, just . . . away. They led her past the cultivated paths, past the unoccupied guard posts, past the crumbling wall at the edge of the palace complex where the groundskeepers never bothered to go.
She stopped.
The manor hunched before her like a wounded animal. It was smaller than she remembered, even more decrepit. The gate hung askew, rusted hinges screaming in the silence. Weeds swallowed the path where she’d once walked with her head down, counting steps to the well and back. Chill gripped her nape. Her mind screamed, telling her to turn around.Run, run, run.
But her traitorous feet moved forward.
The gates gave way easily, its lock broken years ago yet no one had any reason to repair it. She stepped into the abandoned courtyard full of rocks and debris, nature growing wild between the paving stones.
Inside, the manor was all dust and shadows. The same narrow corridor where she’d learned to walk without sound, to take only shallow breaths so her mother wouldn’t hear her existing.
Her breath came faster now.
