The imperial corridors had always been quiet.
But this time, the silence followed me.
Like a held breath. Like reverence. Like dread.
The guards I passed didn't dare speak. The eunuchs and maids bowed low, but none met my eyes. I wasn't veiled, nor hidden. There was no cloak of modesty to shroud me anymore.
I walked openly now. In silk dyed the color of dried blood, with a silver hairpin shaped like a phoenix's talon, and footsteps that didn't bother pretending to tread lightly.
When I reached the Empress's wing, the palace doors opened without needing to be knocked on.
The matron waiting at the end of the hall—old and bent but sharp as glass—nodded once and turned without a word. I followed her down a passage I hadn't walked since I'd first arrived at court.
The same court that once labeled me a bandit whore.
Now it bent its head when I passed.
