When Lena Sanders awoke, she drew back the curtains.
Sunlight poured in, golden and gentle, glinting through green leaves that swayed in the morning breeze. For a rare moment, the world seemed tranquil and unmarred.
She stretched luxuriously, dressed and washed at leisure, and opened the door. A bright-eyed young attendant, face neat and pleasant, stepped forward with a bow.
"Good morning, Miss Li. I'm Ruby."
"Ruby?" Lena smiled. "A fortunate name indeed. Whose servant are you?"
Refreshed and in good spirits after a full night's sleep, she studied the youth with interest—fine azure silk robe, a sash of pure thread at the waist, spotless shoes of white silk… and no Adam's apple.
"I serve His Highness the Prince Heir," Ruby replied clearly, eyes sparkling. "He ordered me to wait here until you awoke, to attend your breakfast, and then escort you to speak with him."
No wonder, Lena thought, smiling faintly. Those who served such men were always quick-witted and charming.
"I'll check on Darren first."
"Of course, miss. This way."
Ruby led her toward the outer courtyard. Lena's smile deepened; the bearing of servants always revealed the true temper of their master.
Inside, Darren Chang was awake. Jack Golden and Harris Ma were red-faced, locked in a fierce debate, each gripping a ginseng root.
"I told you, this is how it's eaten!"
"Nonsense! Who chews raw ginseng?!"
"I'm from a fine family, I'd know—"
"Oh, spare me—"
"Boss! Boss, settle this!"
Seeing Lena in the doorway, Harris's eyes lit up as though salvation had arrived.
"Boss, you have to stop him—he says Darren should eat this raw! He'll kill him at this rate!"
Jack cut in, waving his own ginseng indignantly.
Lena ignored them both and went straight to the bed.
Darren's face was pale but calm. "I'm all right," he said quietly.
She lifted the quilt, examined the wound carefully, then turned.
"Where did you get the ginseng? From the Prince Heir?"
"No," Jack said eagerly. "From that man in white armor yesterday—the impressive one!" His tone was full of admiration.
Lena chuckled. Harris snorted. "That's from His Highness, obviously. The white-armored one's just a messenger! Don't embarrass yourself!"
"Look who's talking about embarrassment!" Jack shot back.
"Slice it thin," Lena interrupted coolly. "Three to five pieces a day, no more."
"Yes, ma'am!" Harris puffed with triumph. "See? I told you—raw!"
"Go to the kitchen," Lena continued, taking the ginseng from his hand. "Get a year-old rooster, stew it with ten slices of this. Darren needs broth, not boasting."
She handed the roots to Jack. "Cut both. You and Harris should take some too."
After breakfast, Lena followed Ruby to the main courtyard.
The post station was heavily guarded—pairs of elite guards flanking the gates, blades gleaming in the sun.
Inside, under the scorching daylight, a line of civil and military officials stood at rigid attention. Lena walked through slowly, gaze sweeping left and right. She had never seen such pomp and power so close.
A curtain lifted ahead. A haggard middle-aged official stumbled out, his face ashen, eyes vacant. He brushed past her and disappeared.
Within the hall, the air was chill despite the summer sun, heavy with the scent of melting ice and authority.
Gavin Shea reclined against a couch, wearing a deep indigo robe embroidered with gold medallions, a crown of jade upon his pale, unsmiling face.
At his right stood the young man in silver armor from the night before, now in pale yellow robes, his round face softened by an easy smile. On the other side stood a man in blue, slender and fair to the point of frailty—too thin, too pale, with a melancholy grace that drew the eye.
Lena froze.
It was him.
Her heart lurched violently. He was here?
The man in blue caught her stare, brow lifting in faint surprise, and glanced toward Gavin Shea. The prince's brows arched, noting Lena's stunned expression, then turned to the man in question.
He only spread his hands and shook his head slightly.
Lena blinked, stepped back a pace, struggling to compose herself.
"You know Shouzhen?" Gavin asked suddenly.
"Hmm?" She blinked, dazed.
"He is William Chen, courtesy name Shouzhen. My adjutant. The identity I borrowed on our journey."
He gestured toward the man in blue. "Have you met him before?"
Lena lowered her gaze. "If he hasn't met me, then I have not met him. But he bears a striking resemblance to someone I once knew."
Gavin studied her a moment, then nodded, motioning toward the young man in yellow.
"This is Simon Wen, courtesy name Zhihe, my captain of the guard."
Lena bowed slightly. "Lord Wen."
"Please, just call me Zhihe." He smiled, revealing a single boyish fang amid his warmth.
"This is your payment," said Gavin. He nodded to William, who produced a scarlet envelope and passed it to Simon, who in turn handed it to Lena.
She opened it, thumbed through the silver notes, and returned them to their cover. "My thanks, Your Highness."
"What are your plans?" Gavin asked.
"When do you depart?" she countered.
"In a few days. Castleton is an hour's ride from here."
"Then, if it causes no trouble, we'll rest here as well," she replied.
"Of course. Rest as long as you need," Gavin said readily.
She bowed and withdrew.
When she had gone, Gavin turned to William. "Have someone discreetly keep an eye on her."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"You've never seen her before?"
"No."
"Are you certain? Perhaps you crossed paths once—without realizing?"
"I would remember." William's tone was calm but absolute. "A woman like her cannot be overlooked—or forgotten."
Gavin nodded slowly, falling silent for a while.
"She may seek a chance to speak with you. Indulge her. See what you can learn."
He exhaled, his expression softening. "Without her, I'd never have made it back alive. She's the head of Riverford City's Night Fragrance Guild. Before that, she led the beggars' syndicate—every street urchin in that city follows her word. Manager Zhao swore that if she took the contract, I would return safely."
A shadow crossed his face. "Zhao died saving me."
"She's skilled, keen-eyed, meticulous—educated, too. I've asked about her past, but she always avoids the question."
He paused, voice low.
"I can't see through her."
William listened silently, then gave a quiet nod.