The peace following the Monk's defeat lasted exactly three days. On the fourth morning, Xiaowei did not wake to the smell of jasmine tea, but to the deep, resonant blast of a royal horn.
She hurried to the balcony, her heart sinking. At the base of the hill, a procession three times larger than the Prince's had gathered. This was not a raiding party; it was a royal envoy. Silk banners of pure gold fluttered in the breeze, and a herald stood at the front, holding a scroll sealed with the dragon of the Emperor himself.
"Lin Xiaowei of the House of Lin!" the herald's voice boomed. "The Son of Heaven has heard of your virtue and the return of the Moon-Slayer. He summons you to the Forbidden City to receive his blessing—and to discuss a union between our houses!"
Xiaowei felt a hand on her shoulder. Lu Chen was there, his face a mask of cold porcelain. He was dressed in his finest black silk, his hair tied back with a silver ribbon.
"A union," Lu Chen repeated, his voice dripping with distain. "A clever way for a weak Emperor to steal a Warden's power. He doesn't want to bless you, Little Rose. He wants to cage you."
"I have to go, don't I?" Xiaowei whispered. "If I refuse, they will label us rebels. They will burn the manor."
Lu Chen's eyes flickered with a dark, predatory light. "Oh, we shall go. But the Emperor has made a grave tactical error. He invited the lady, but he did not realize he was also inviting her shadow."
The journey to the capital took a week. Xiaowei traveled in a lavish carriage provided by the crown, but she refused to let any of the royal guards near her. Lu Chen sat opposite her, his back perfectly straight, his red eyes hidden behind a pair of dark-tinted spectacles he had "acquired" from a merchant.
"Remember," Lu Chen instructed as the massive gates of the Forbidden City loomed ahead. "In the palace, everyone is a snake. Do not eat anything I have not tasted. Do not drink anything I have not poured. And if the Emperor touches your hand, I shall find it very difficult to remain polite."
"Lu Chen," Xiaowei teased, though she was trembling. "Are you jealous of the Emperor?"
Lu Chen leaned forward, the dark glass of his spectacles hiding his gaze, but his presence suddenly felt overwhelming, filling the small carriage. "The Emperor has a throne. I have an eternity. I am not jealous, Mistress. I am simply protective of my property."
He paused, then added softly, "And my heart."
The Great Hall was a sea of gold and red. Hundreds of officials and concubines whispered as Xiaowei entered. She looked radiant in a gown of midnight blue—another of Lu Chen's masterpieces—and the Moon-Slayer was strapped firmly to her waist.
At the end of the hall sat Emperor Ming, a young man with a greedy smile and eyes that roved over Xiaowei with unsettling hunger.
"The Lady Lin," the Emperor said, standing up. "You bring honor to our court. And who is this... tall gentleman behind you?"
Lu Chen stepped forward and bowed, though he did not lower his head as far as the law required. "I am Lu Chen, the personal butler and protector of the Lady Lin. I go where she goes."
The Emperor frowned. "A butler? He looks more like a prince of a dark kingdom. He is not permitted in the inner chambers."
"Where I am not permitted, the Lady does not go," Lu Chen said. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop ten degrees. "The Moon-Slayer only stays calm in my presence. You wouldn't want the blade to... misbehave in your beautiful palace, would you?"
The Emperor's gaze fell to the white bone hilt of the sword. He laughed nervously. "Very well. The butler may stay."
That evening, a grand feast was held. But as the wine flowed, Xiaowei felt a strange dizziness. She looked at her cup. She had only taken one sip.
"Lu Chen," she whispered, her hand reaching for his sleeve. "Something is wrong."
Lu Chen was at her side in an instant. He took the cup, sniffed it, and his face turned into a mask of pure, ancient fury.
"Ghost-root powder," he hissed. "It paralyzes the will. They mean to take you tonight while you cannot resist."
Suddenly, the doors of the banquet hall slammed shut. The Emperor stood up, his face no longer friendly.
"The sword is mine, girl! And you shall be the mother of a new line of Wardens under my control! Guards! Seize the butler! Kill him if you must, but do not damage his suit—it is quite fine."
A hundred guards flooded the room, their blades drawn.
Lu Chen stood in front of Xiaowei, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the floor, growing until it touched the very ceiling. He reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of white silk gloves, pulling them on slowly, finger by finger.
"Mistress," he said, his voice echoing like thunder. "Close your eyes. This is going to be quite messy, and I promised your father's ghost I would keep your soul clean."
"Lu Chen, wait!" Xiaowei gasped, struggling to stay upright.
But Lu Chen was already gone. He was a streak of black lightning. The first ten guards didn't even see him move before they were flying across the room, their armor crushed like paper.
The feast was about to turn into a bloodbath, and the Vampire King was no longer playing the part of a servant.
The Emperor's laughter died in his throat as the first wave of guards collapsed. Lu Chen moved with a predatory elegance that defied human physics. He didn't use a sword; he didn't need one. His hands, clad in pristine white silk, were more lethal than any steel.
"You dare... in my own hall!" Emperor Ming screamed, retreating toward his throne. "Archers! Kill the demon!"
From the high balconies, a rain of arrows whistled down. Xiaowei felt a cold wind swirl around her as Lu Chen reappeared at her side. He didn't flinch. With a casual wave of his hand, he generated a gust of freezing air so powerful the arrows were swept aside like dry leaves.
"I believe I told you, Your Majesty," Lu Chen said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, resonant bass. "The Lady Lin is not to be touched."
The Ghost-root powder was making Xiaowei's vision swim, but she forced herself to stand. She could feel the Moon-Slayer pulsing against her hip, humming with a frantic energy. It wasn't just a sword; it was a key.
"Lu Chen..." she managed to gasp. "The Emperor... his eyes. Look at his eyes."
Lu Chen paused, his hand around the throat of a general. He looked at Emperor Ming. The young ruler's eyes were no longer brown; they were swirling with a sickly, purple smoke.
"Possession," Lu Chen hissed, throwing the general aside. "A shadow-wraith from the old tombs. It has been whispering in his ear."
The "Emperor" let out a screech that was definitely not human. His skin began to turn gray, and his fingernails grew into long, black talons. "The Warden blood! I will drink the light from her veins!"
The possessed Emperor leaped from the dais, moving with a supernatural speed that almost matched Lu Chen's. He ignored the butler, aiming straight for Xiaowei's heart.
"No!" Lu Chen roared.
He intercepted the creature mid-air. The collision sent a shockwave through the hall, shattering the porcelain vases and blowing out every candle. In the sudden darkness, the only lights were Lu Chen's glowing crimson eyes and the purple aura of the wraith.
They tumbled across the floor, a blur of shadow and teeth. Lu Chen was stronger, but the wraith was using the Emperor's life force as a shield. Lu Chen hesitated; he knew if he killed the wraith too violently, the Emperor's body—and the stability of the kingdom—would die with it.
"Xiaowei!" Lu Chen shouted, pinned against a pillar by the creature's claws. "The blade! Only the Moon-Slayer can cut the shadow without harming the flesh!"
Xiaowei bit her lip until the tang of blood cleared her head. She drew the bone-white sword. The hall was instantly bathed in a pure, lunar light. The wraith shrieked, cowering from the radiance.
She stumbled forward, her legs heavy like lead. She saw Lu Chen holding the struggling creature's arms back, his own silk gloves smoking where the dark energy touched them.
"Do it now, Little Rose!" he urged, his fangs bared in a snarl of effort. "Trust the blade!"
Xiaowei raised the Moon-Slayer. She didn't aim for the Emperor's heart. She aimed for the shadow attached to his back. With a cry of "Leave him!", she brought the sword down.
The white light sliced through the purple smoke like a hot knife through wax. A horrific, high-pitched wail echoed through the palace as the wraith was severed from its host. It dissolved into a pile of black ash before it could even hit the floor.
The Emperor fell forward, unconscious but breathing.
Silence fell over the Great Hall. The remaining guards dropped their weapons, trembling as they looked at the girl standing over their ruler and the dark, elegant man who slowly stood up and brushed the dust from his shoulders.
Lu Chen walked to Xiaowei. He didn't look at the fallen Emperor or the terrified court. He only looked at her. He took the sword from her shaking hand and gently slid it back into its scabbard.
"A masterfully executed strike, Mistress," he whispered, his voice returning to its calm, Queen's English tone.
He then picked her up, cradling her against his chest. He turned to the silent room of officials.
"The Emperor is unwell and requires rest. The shadow is gone. As for the Lady Lin, she is retiring to her manor. Should anyone wish to 'invite' her again..." his eyes flared a brilliant, warning red. "I suggest you send a much larger army. And perhaps a better vintage of wine."
With a swirl of his black cloak, he stepped into the shadows of the hallway and vanished, carrying his Mistress back toward the mountains