The storm raged through the night, battering the tiled roofs and rattling the lattice windows until the whole palace seemed to tremble. Li Ziyan sat alone in her chambers, her hands pressed to her face, as though she could block out the thunder that rolled endlessly through the dark.
She had not slept. She could not. The betrayal in Lianhua's eyes haunted her. Once she had thought the girl a sister, a confidante, someone she could trust in the shifting sands of court. But all of that had been a mask. Lianhua had come close not for friendship, but for vengeance. A daughter of Xia, a thread woven into her life by careful hands, smiling as she drew closer only to cut the ground away.
And yet, Ziyan had let her go.
Her vision blurred as tears welled unbidden. She hated herself for them. She had promised she would be strong, that no storm could break her resolve. But now she saw too clearly: not everyone she drew near would remain a friend. Not every hand she clasped was meant to lift her.
Even her phoenix vision mocked her. That strange gift showed her who among men and women held greatness in their bones, who might rise to power, who might shape the fates of nations. Yet it had no power to reveal whether that greatness would burn for her, or consume her instead. She had seen Lianhua's brilliance, Wei's dangerous sharpness, even Wen Yufei's quiet strength — but not their hearts.
"What use is a sight that blinds more than it guides?" she whispered to the cold, her words drowned by the rain hammering on the eaves.
She thought of Wei, the spy who had once been her shield. He remained, but what was his loyalty worth? He had already betrayed Qi once by nature of his birth and his mission. Could she truly trust him not to do so again? She thought of Wen Yufei, slipping through shadows, speaking of truths so dark they chilled her to the bone. He had said he hid from her father, Li Wenxu. But why? What did her father hold over him that could drive a man of Yufei's resolve to flee like a hunted animal?
And her father. Always her father. His presence stretched across every plot, every silence. She knew — though no parchment had yet proved it — that Li Wenxu's hand was the ink behind Xia's whispers. A father who guided her with one hand and bound her with the other.
The brazier had long since burned out, and the chamber had grown colder. Ziyan curled her arms around herself and wept in the shadows, her sobs muffled against her sleeve. She wept for Lianhua's betrayal, for Wei's silence, for Wen Yufei's warnings, for the storm that seemed to close around her life. She wept because she did not know who she could trust anymore — or if trust itself was a dream too fragile for the court she served.
When dawn finally bled into the storm, pale and thin, she was pale with it. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her body aching with weariness.
A eunuch came, kneeling low on the wet threshold of her chambers. His voice cracked with the formality of ritual.
"By order of His Highness Prince Ning, Minister Li Ziyan is summoned to audience."
Ziyan rose, her movements slow, as though she carried the storm itself on her shoulders. Her steps echoed down the covered corridors, where rain dripped endlessly from the eaves. Servants she passed kept their gazes fixed on the floor, too carefully, too deliberately. She could feel their whispers even as they dared not speak them.
The Hall of Autumn Light was ablaze with lanterns, banners heavy with damp air, the incense curling in coils that suffocated more than they soothed. Prince Ning sat upon the raised dais, posture erect, gaze sharper than a drawn blade. Around him clustered the wolves of the court: Lord Gao with his smirk of triumph, the captains of the Northern and Southern Bureaus, scribes who whispered as they wrote, commanders whose hands itched for accusation.
Ziyan stepped into the hall and bowed. Her damp robes clung to her, her face pale but composed.
"Minister Li," Ning said, his voice carrying easily through the silence. "There were disturbances in the night."
Ziyan's voice was quiet, but steady. "Yes, Your Highness. A spy was captured."
Ning leaned forward slightly. His gaze pinned her in place. "And yet it is said this spy came from your circle. That she moved freely in your household, under your protection. That the unrest, the theft, the whispers of treachery, all trace back to you."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Lord Gao smiled, just enough for her to see.
Ziyan's hands tightened in her sleeves. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears, faster than the rain on the roof. "I set a trap," she said, "to draw out the traitor. And one came. But—" Her breath caught. Her throat ached as though the words were glass cutting their way out. "…I let her go."
Gasps broke from the officials. Some drew back as though she had spat poison into the chamber. Gao's smirk spread like oil on water.
Prince Ning's eyes hardened. "Lianhua."
Her name fell like thunder.
"Where is she now?" Ning asked, his voice low, sharp, dangerous.
The silence was unbearable. All eyes pressed upon her, demanding blood.
Ziyan lifted her head. The weight of all her failures seemed to bear down on her shoulders, yet she forced her gaze to remain level with the Prince. She thought of Lianhua's gentle words, of her laughter, of her feigned friendship. She thought of Wei's silence, of Yufei's haunted voice, of her father's invisible grip on her fate. She thought of how utterly alone she was in this hall, surrounded not by allies but by wolves.
When she spoke, her voice was calm — but it hollowed her out from the inside.
"I let her go."
The words echoed, stark and unyielding.
A hiss of disbelief swept the chamber. Gao's eyes glittered like a man who had already won. Outside, thunder cracked, splitting the air.
Prince Ning's expression darkened, iron beneath silk. "You let her go," he repeated slowly, as though to measure the weight of her words.
Ziyan bowed her head, the storm within her now silent, emptied. She had spoken truth — and yet she knew truth alone could not save her.
The storm raged on, but it was the silence of the hall that threatened to drown her.