Midnight cloaked the palace in a heavy hush. The walls of the once-grand court, now battered and cracked, loomed over the encampment where Hua Jing and the others waited. Torches flickered in the cold night breeze, and the quiet murmur of soldiers moving around the perimeter lent the air a muted tension. They were vigilant, their swords glinting under the lantern glow.
Hua Jing stood still, her red robes a vivid slash of color amid the sea of armored men. She kept her gaze locked on the dark horizon. Though the battle had ended hours ago, the war was far from over. The traitors who had tried to steal the empire still lurked in the shadows.
She refused to let her mind drift to Zhao Yan's still body in the physician's care. Every time the thought of him flickered across her heart, she felt the ground slipping away beneath her feet. She had to stay anchored. She had to keep her focus on what had to be done.
