Deming was waiting in the corridor when I returned from the east wing. His arms were folded in front of him, his back was straight, as if the stones themselves needed discipline.
And there was a very pissed off look on his face when I came to a stop in front of him.
"You brought him inside the palace," he said. It wasn't a question, and he didn't have to even give a name to the 'he' he was talking about.
I adjusted the sleeve over my wrist. "He put himself inside. I just gave the court a reason not to scream and for Mingyu to accept."
His jaw was set, that iron line he wore whenever he wanted to argue but knew he'd lose. "Longzi isn't Yizhen. He doesn't melt into walls. He doesn't smile his way out of notice. He brings an army's weight with him even when he's stripped to plain cloth."
