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Chapter 34: Ashes in the Lantern Light
The lanterns burned high above the palace courtyard, throwing shifting shadows across the snow. Red, gold, and indigo light trembled against the walls, making the whole place feel alive, as though the palace itself were watching, waiting, breathing with us.
And maybe it was.
Because tonight, every word, every movement, every smile, would be remembered.
Jiu'er tugged the sleeve of my robe gently as we moved through the crowd. "Princess, your face," she whispered, "you look as though you carry a storm in your eyes. Let them see calm. Let them see only calm."
Her fingers brushed mine briefly, steadying. Her loyalty was the one thing in this viper's nest I never doubted. She had died for me once. I wouldn't let her die again.
"I am calm," I muttered, though my heart was beating fast enough to break ribs.
The Emperor sat on the raised dais at the far end, framed by the glow of a hundred lanterns. His expression was carved in stone, unreadable, yet I knew that every flicker of his gaze meant something.
Beside him, Meiyan.
Her gown tonight was blood red, embroidered with golden phoenixes that seemed to flap their wings when the light hit them. She was smiling at something the Emperor said, tilting her head just enough that the pearls in her hair slid across her shoulder like drops of frozen milk.
I wanted to claw that smile off her face.
No. Not yet.
Not tonight.
Revenge is not fire, I reminded myself. Revenge is frost. It creeps, it kills slow, it makes them shiver before they realize they are dead.
Still, when her gaze swept across the courtyard and locked with mine, something inside me flared.
She smiled. A faint curve of her lips, just for me.
It said, I won then. I will win again.
And my answering smile said, Not this time.
---
The feast began with wine and shallow words. Musicians plucked at strings in the corner, their notes fluttering like trapped birds. Dancers swirled across the stone, sleeves trailing ribbons of color. I clapped when everyone else did. I laughed politely when a minister stumbled over his toast.
But my mind was elsewhere.
I watched. I listened.
Who leaned toward whom. Who whispered. Who laughed too loudly. Which servant refilled which cup. Every detail was a weapon waiting for me to sharpen it.
Jiu'er knelt close at my side, refilling my tea, her eyes flicking up at me now and then. She didn't speak, but she didn't need to. We understood each other in silence.
When the Emperor called for the lantern procession, the hall spilled out into the courtyard. Cold air slapped against my face, sharp enough to sting, but I welcomed it. It cleared the smoke of wine from my head.
The lanterns were lit one by one. Phoenixes, rivers, blossoms, dragons. Each consort's work paraded before the Emperor's eyes. Meiyan's lantern burned brightest, the gold leaf catching every lick of flame, throwing sparks of light across her face. She stood tall, chin high, knowing everyone was watching her.
Then mine.
Indigo silk. White bamboo. Snow bending but unbroken.
The Emperor's gaze lingered on it longer than on any of the others.
He said nothing.
But silence could be louder than words.
---
Later, when the crowd began to disperse, I slipped away with Jiu'er at my side. The corridors were half-empty, echoing with the hush of distant laughter and the crunch of boots on snow outside.
Jiu'er whispered, "You have to eat, Princess. You had only broth at midday."
"I'm not hungry."
"You'll collapse."
"Then I'll collapse standing."
Her sigh was sharp, but she didn't argue.
Instead she lowered her voice further. "Someone has been following us."
I froze, my hand brushing the sleeve of her robe as if adjusting it. "Where?"
"Behind the screen near the incense alcove. I saw the shadow when we passed."
My pulse kicked, but I forced my pace to stay even. We walked a little further, then I stopped as if to study a tapestry. My eyes slid to the corner.
A flicker of movement. A sleeve disappearing behind the screen.
"Keep walking," I murmured.
We turned down another corridor, and when we were certain no one else was watching, we ducked into a side chamber. My hand was already at the hidden knife sewn into the folds of my robe.
The shadow followed.
The screen door slid open.
"Still alive," said a voice I knew too well.
Jihao.
Prince Jihao.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
The man who had watched me suffer and told me it was necessary.
The sight of him here, in the Emperor's palace, was both impossible and inevitable.
"You should not be here," I hissed.
"And yet I am," he said calmly, stepping inside, his boots leaving faint marks of snow on the polished floor. "You showed him the bamboo. Good. He noticed."
Jiu'er shifted beside me, wary, her hand hovering near the brazier poker.
"Why are you here, Jihao?" I demanded.
"To remind you," he said. "Revenge is not one strike. It is many. Tonight you planted a seed. Tomorrow you water it. One day, it grows into something strong enough to strangle him."
His words should have steadied me. Instead, they twisted something in my chest.
"You left me to die."
His face did not change. "And you lived."
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to demand he leave. I wanted to ask what he planned.
But instead I said nothing.
Because I knew he was right.
---
When he finally left, disappearing back into the snow like a ghost, Jiu'er exhaled sharply.
"I do not trust him," she whispered.
"Neither do I," I admitted. "But I will use him. The way I will use them all."
Her eyes softened, but her voice trembled. "Just… do not let him use you, Princess."
I didn't answer.
Because maybe he already had.
---
The next morning, the palace hummed with aftermath. Servants carried ashes of burned lanterns out in baskets, the scent of smoke still clinging to their sleeves. Ministers whispered about the Emperor's silence, about which lanterns he favored, about what it might mean for the months ahead.
And Meiyan?
She glowed. She moved through the corridors like she already wore the crown. Every bow she received, every laugh she gave, was a blade drawn against me.
But she did not see the other blade. The one I kept hidden. The one I would press against her throat when the time was right.
I sat at my writing desk, brush in hand, ink pooling thick and black. I wrote her name. Slowly. Carefully.
Then I drew a line through it.
And another.
And another.
Jiu'er entered quietly, carrying a tray with tea. She paused when she saw what I had written, her eyes flicking to mine.
"You will do it," she said softly.
"Yes," I whispered. "But not yet."
Her hand trembled slightly as she set down the tray. "Promise me, Princess… promise me you will not let your anger blind you."
I looked at her. At the maid who had once died for me. At the only person in this world who had never betrayed me.
And I lied.
"I promise."
---
That night, I dreamed of fire.
Of lanterns burning, but this time they were not made of silk. They were made of faces. Meiyan's. The Emperor's. The Chancellor's. One by one they caught flame, their laughter turning to screams, their jeweled hairpins melting down their cheeks.
And at the center of it, bamboo. Unbroken.
When I woke, my pillow was wet with sweat.
I sat up
slowly, staring at the dark ceiling, and whispered to the empty room:
"I will burn you all."
The festival had ended.
But my game had just begun.
---
And tomorrow, someone would bleed.