By late afternoon, the silence had teeth.
The kitchen staff was gone—dragged out like trash, their screams swallowed before they could echo. Eunuchs moved in their place, efficient and quiet, as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn't tried to poison the Crown Princess in her own manor.
I lounged beside the open window, watching shadows stretch across the floor. A second tray of food sat untouched before me, a lunch offering that I couldn't swallow. I had summoned it out of morbid curiosity, just to see if things had improved after breakfast.
They had not.
Another wilted collection of boiled weeds and thin broth that tasted like it had been strained through a worn sock. The meat had vanished entirely. And the vegetables? If I hadn't seen them with my own eyes, I would have assumed they were decorative.
I poked the sad little sprig of greens with a pair of chopsticks.
