Xing Yu had been standing there for several minutes now, and he had never in his life felt less like a general.
The hall was vast. It stretched up into shadow, pale crystal pillars rising on either side like the ribs of some enormous sleeping beast, and the floor beneath his boots was so polished he could see his own reflection in it. Rows of officials lined the walls, robes sweeping the ground, their faces carefully neutral. Warriors stood at every pillar. Every single one of them was watching him.
He had led armies into worse.
He had stood at the front of a doomed line and held it.
And yet standing here, in this quiet room, waiting to speak, he felt like a boy again.
This is ridiculous, he told himself.
It didn't help.
At the far end of the hall, on a raised dais of pale gold, sat the Emperor of Gia.
