By the time Shi Yaozu and I had left the study, the sun had begun to burn off the morning chill, but the wind still clung to the scent of distant rain. Not enough to clean the air. Not enough to matter.
I didn't speak as I walked, and neither did the man beside me.
Shi Yaozu matched my pace like he'd been doing it his whole life. No sound from his boots. No unnecessary glances. Just the ever-watchful silence of a man who knew his role—protect me, follow me, disappear when needed, kill when told.
I hadn't given him orders.
He followed anyway.
The servants in the manor kept their heads low as we passed. Some bowed. Some didn't. None dared speak. In this part of the palace, silence walked before me like a herald.
