Li Xiu sat in the silence of the final hour before dawn, her heart thudding a steady, anxious beat against her ribs. In the darkness of her small chamber, the single candle on her table had burned low, sputtering its last pale flame. Shadows danced on the stone walls as she methodically laid out what few tools she had. A slender boning knife pilfered from the kitchens, its edge keen but short. Two vials no longer than her smallest finger—one filled with milky antidote for common poisons, the other a viscous oil of belladonna she'd refined for emergencies. These, along with a silk handkerchief and a tinderbox, were all she had. Limited tools, but they would have to be enough. Her fingers trembled slightly as she checked each item, but her eyes were sharp and awake; she had not slept since the whisper in the night.
She replayed those words again in her mind: "She knows too much. We strike at first light." Even now, the memory of that hushed voice outside her door made her skin crawl. Li Xiu had nearly stopped breathing when she heard it, fear and clarity washing over her in equal measure. Someone in the palace wanted her dead—and soon. Perhaps it was because of what she had discovered the day before: the irregular sediment at the bottom of the Queen's wine glass, the way a lady-in-waiting's hands shook when Li Xiu caught her watching from the corner of the hall. Li Xiu didn't know exactly which secret she'd uncovered that marked her for death, but it hardly mattered. They thought she knew too much, and that was enough.
She rose from the low stool where she had been sitting and moved to the tiny arrow-slit window. Pressing her back against the cool stone wall, she peered out at the courtyard below. The sky was still a deep blue-black, pricked by the last stars of night. Dawn was not far off now; already the eastern horizon had that faint hint of grey. In this dim pre-dawn gloom, the castle grounds lay quiet. The torches along the battlements were burning low, their flames flickering in the light breeze before daybreak. All seemed tranquil, but Li Xiu knew it was a deceitful calm. Somewhere in that gloom, danger crept toward her.
She drew a slow breath and centered herself as her old master had taught her long ago. The scents of her small chamber grounded her—the beeswax of the nearly spent candle, the dried lavender she kept among her clothes, a whiff of bitter herbs clinging to her sleeves from yesterday's work in the Queen's laboratory. These familiar smells mingled with the cold stone and soot, and beneath it all she caught the faintest trace of something acrid and out of place. Li Xiu's brow furrowed. Smoke? No, not quite. She knelt and touched the floor, then the wooden doorframe, sniffing lightly. There—a thin smear of black near the threshold. Her heart gave a jolt of recognition. Ignis powder, a compound used to silently burn through wood. Someone had tried to weaken her door's lock in the night. If she hadn't bolted it and wedged a chair beneath the handle after hearing that whisper, she might already be dead.
A surge of determination steadied her. They had tried to slip in while she slept. They failed. Now dawn was almost here, and soon she must leave to attend the Queen. If they strike at first light, she thought, I will not be an easy target. Quickly, Li Xiu wrapped her small knife in the handkerchief and tucked it securely into the bodice of her dress. The vials she slipped into a hidden pocket at her waist. She donned a heavier outer robe against the chill, its dark burgundy folds concealing any bulge from her concealed tools. Finally, she lifted the nearly dead candle and blew it out, plunging the room into darkness. Her eyes adjusted, and she stood by the door, listening.
Footsteps. Very soft, out in the corridor—approaching. Li Xiu's pulse quickened. The castle's servants would not stir for another hour, and this wing held only empty guest chambers besides her own modest quarters. No one should be here. Yet someone was. She heard a faint scrape, metal on wood—the door handle. It jiggled once, then was still, met by the resistance of her makeshift bar. A long pause followed. Li Xiu held her breath, one hand on the door, the other already slipping the small knife free from her bodice. The footsteps retreated a few paces. Perhaps the would-be intruder thought her still asleep in the dark silence. Perhaps they intended to return at first light as threatened, when she emerged.
Li Xiu realized her best chance was to move now, before dawn fully broke, to avoid being cornered. The Queen's morning meal would be served at dawn's first hour; she was expected in the Queen's antechamber shortly. If she waited here, they would eventually break in or force her out. Better to slip past them and reach Her Majesty safely, where guards were nearby. And if danger followed, so be it—Li Xiu would be ready.
She remembered a narrow servants' passage that ran behind the walls, one that she'd used before to fetch rare herbs from the storage or to arrive discreetly when court visitors were present. That passage's entrance was just two doors down, in a disused linen closet. If she could reach it quietly, she might avoid whoever lurked outside. Taking a final steadying breath, Li Xiu lifted the wooden bar from under her door handle as silently as she could. The faint creak made her wince. She waited—no reaction from outside. Clutching her knife, she eased the door open a mere crack.
The corridor was unlit, only a ghost of predawn light filtering through a high window at the far end. She could just make out a cloaked figure standing about ten paces to her right, half-hidden in an alcove. Her heart lurched into her throat. The figure's face was obscured by a hood, but she saw the glint of a drawn dagger in their hand. They were facing her door, waiting. Waiting for me to emerge, she thought. At first light…
Li Xiu's mouth went dry. She slipped through the door, keeping low, and swiftly turned left, away from the assassin. The linen closet was to her left, a short dash away. Her soft slippers made barely a sound on the cold stone floor. Still, she heard a sudden intake of breath behind her—he had seen movement. Now! Li Xiu bolted for the closet. In two long strides she reached it, yanked open the door and flung herself into the narrow space beyond the hanging sheets and tablecloths. A hiss of air and a thud: a knife struck the wood of the door just as she pulled it shut. The blade had narrowly missed her, slicing through a hanging tablecloth instead.
Her hands fumbled in the pitch dark of the closet, finding the small interior latch and sliding it into place. A second later, a heavy weight slammed against the door from the outside. The wood shuddered, but held. Li Xiu's heart pounded. The passage—where was the catch? She reached through the moth-scented linens, fingers searching the back wall. The hidden door was there, and she pressed the secret spring mechanism. With relief, she felt a panel give way, opening into the servants' passage. She slipped through just as a second crash came—the assassin was trying to break the closet door now. Li Xiu did not wait to find out if he would succeed. She pulled the hidden panel closed behind her and ran, her footsteps echoing faintly in the narrow corridor between walls.
Moments later, she emerged into a dim side hall not far from the Queen's apartments. The passage had done its job; she had bypassed her attacker. But her hands were shaking and her breath came fast. She forced herself to pause and gather her wits. Dawn light was beginning to seep into the castle windows, rosy and pale. Servants would soon be bustling about, and she couldn't afford to appear as rattled as she felt. Li Xiu straightened her robes and smoothed back a few loose strands of her long black hair. The weight of the concealed knife against her ribs was reassuring, a reminder that she was not defenseless.
Two guards stood outside the Queen's ornate chamber doors, looking sleepy but alert enough. They were accustomed to seeing the royal poisoner arrive early each morning. Li Xiu mustered a polite nod as she approached. She had known these guards for some time—Captain Ouyang and young Tian—but after the long night of suspicion, she found herself doubting everyone. Still, their armor bore the Queen's insignia and they greeted her with the usual respect.
"Morning already?" Captain Ouyang yawned, then flushed with embarrassment at his lapse. "Apologies, Miss Li. Her Majesty is expecting you shortly. The breakfast carts should arrive any minute."
"Thank you," Li Xiu replied quietly. Her voice was steady, belying the adrenaline surging in her veins. She stepped into the antechamber, which was lit by a trio of oil lamps. It was a cozy room outside the Queen's private dining salon, furnished with upholstered chairs and a low table. Usually, Li Xiu would wait here until the servants delivered the Queen's morning meal, then perform her tasting duties before the food went in to Her Majesty. She was grateful to have a moment alone now. Taking a slow breath, she considered what to do. The assassin could still be coming. Perhaps he would not give up so easily. If he guessed where she went, he might try to reach the Queen's chambers too, under some guise.
Li Xiu quickly crossed to the door that connected to the Queen's dining room. Gently, she pushed it open a crack. Inside, Queen Zhenzhu was already awake, seated at her round breakfast table by the window, bathed in the dawn's gentle light. She was alone, save for one lady-in-waiting arranging fresh flowers in a vase. The Queen wore a robe of deep blue silk and her long hair was loosely braided over one shoulder. Despite the early hour, she looked composed and regal—if a touch weary. Li Xiu felt a brief wash of relief at the sight of her alive and well. It renewed her resolve. I will not allow any harm to come to her, Li Xiu promised silently. Whatever the conspirators intended, she would be ready.
Quietly, Li Xiu withdrew back into the antechamber just as the door from the corridor opened and two kitchen servants wheeled in a polished cart bearing the Queen's breakfast. The aromas of warm bread, sweet fruit, and spiced congee filled the room. A silver teapot steamed beside porcelain dishes. Li Xiu's senses, already on high alert, flared as she caught an odd note beneath the normal scents—something earthy and sharp, barely noticeable. Poison? Her pulse quickened.
"Good morning, Miss Li," said one of the servants with a respectful bow. He was an older man, Biming, who often delivered the Queen's meals. Beside him, however, was a younger woman Li Xiu did not immediately recognize—a kitchen maid perhaps, carrying a second tray with cups and utensils. The maid kept her eyes lowered, face partially obscured by a wisp of hair. Li Xiu's gaze flickered over her and the tray. Every object, every person now was a potential threat.
"Good morning," Li Xiu replied calmly. "Set it there, please. I will begin the tasting." She indicated the low table. The routine was well-established: Li Xiu would sample each item brought for the Queen—every dish, every drink, even the condiments—before deeming them safe. Only then would the food be taken into the Queen's dining room.
As the servants arranged the dishes, Li Xiu subtly positioned herself between them and the door to the Queen. She noted that Captain Ouyang had stepped just inside as well, watching over the proceedings. Good. If anything went awry, at least one guard was present. The older servant uncovered a steaming bowl of congee, laced with red dates and nuts. Beside it were delicate lotus seed buns, a plate of sliced melons, and the silver pot of jasmine tea.
Li Xiu began her duty, taking up the small porcelain tasting spoon reserved for her use. First, the congee: She stirred it lightly, blowing on it as tendrils of steam curled into the air. Bringing a spoonful to her lips, she tasted carefully. The rice porridge was rich and fragrant, sweetened with honey. No bitterness, no odd aftertaste. She swallowed and waited a few seconds, listening to her body. Nothing abnormal—no numbness on the tongue (a sign of nightshade), no burning at the back of her throat (a sign of certain mineral toxins). The congee seemed clear.
Next, the fruit. She picked up a slice of melon and sniffed it. It smelled of summer and nothing more. She bit into it—juicy, harmless. The buns, too, were warm and soft, filled with a fragrant lotus paste. She nibbled one edge, musing that if not for her constant fear of poison, she might actually enjoy these breakfasts. Still fine. Whoever plotted her death might well attempt subtler means. Li Xiu's gaze slid to the teapot. Tea was the easiest medium for many poisons: a potent toxin could be dissolved in it, masked by floral aroma until it was too late.
She poured a small cup for herself. The maid who'd come with the cart stepped forward quickly, offering to pour, but Li Xiu gently waved her off. "I've got it." The maid retreated, keeping her head down. Li Xiu lifted the cup to her nose, inhaling. Jasmine… and something else faintly medicinal. Her heartbeat quickened. She sipped, holding the hot liquid on her tongue just a moment before spitting it discreetly back into the cup. A bitter tingle clung to her lips. There it is. Her intuition screamed danger—this was not pure jasmine tea.
Her mind raced through her catalog of poisons. Bitter, slightly oily on the tongue, astringent aftertaste… It could be aconite, known as wolfsbane, which in a weak dose might taste bitter and cause tingling. A strong dose would kill swiftly. Or it could be powdered foxglove mixed into a tincture—less immediate, but deadly to the heart. Either way, Li Xiu was certain: the tea was tampered with.
Maintaining a veneer of calm, she set the cup down. No one in the room seemed to notice her hesitation—but the maid was watching her now. Li Xiu met the young woman's eyes and saw the glint of fear… or guilt. The maid quickly averted her gaze. Li Xiu's blood went cold. Could this be one of the conspirators? The maid's hands were clasped tightly together, knuckles white, as if bracing for something.
Li Xiu turned to Captain Ouyang, keeping her voice measured. "Captain, please do not allow anyone to take this tea inside. In fact, none of these dishes should go to Her Majesty just yet." She offered a tight, significant smile. "I haven't finished my testing." The captain's eyes narrowed slightly; he was not a foolish man and knew her well enough to sense when something was wrong. He moved to stand fully in front of the door to the Queen's room, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The two servants exchanged a quick, uncertain glance.
At that moment, the inner door opened and Queen Zhenzhu herself stepped through, drawn by the delay. "Is everything alright?" the Queen asked, her voice gentle but commanding. She looked from Li Xiu to the servants, then to her guard, sensing the tension.
Li Xiu's heart clenched; the Queen was not supposed to enter until the food was declared safe. Forcing a smile, Li Xiu bowed. "Your Majesty, pardon the delay. I—"
Suddenly, a clatter of porcelain. The maid dropped the tray of cups with a loud crash, tea spilling across the floor. The Queen startled, and in that split second of distraction, the young woman lunged forward. A slim dagger, seemingly pulled from her sleeve, gleamed as she thrust it straight toward the Queen's chest.
Li Xiu reacted on pure instinct and training. She threw herself in front of the Queen, her arm striking upward to deflect the maid's stabbing hand. The dagger's blade sliced a fiery line across Li Xiu's forearm, pain flaring hot and immediate, but she did not falter. With her other hand, Li Xiu struck the assassin hard at the collarbone, a precise blow that sent the girl reeling back with a gasp. In the same motion, Li Xiu twisted the dagger from the maid's grasp. It skittered to the floor.
Captain Ouyang surged forward, drawing his sword partway—but he hesitated, unable to intervene without risking the Queen. In that heartbeat, Li Xiu found herself face-to-face with the would-be killer. The maid was young, her face contorted in desperate fury. Not a maid at all, Li Xiu realized—her palms bore calluses of one who handles blades, not laundry. This was the assassin who had stalked her in the dark, or at least an accomplice. And now that her subtle attempt had failed, she was ready to spill blood.
The false maid recovered swiftly from Li Xiu's blow. Rather than scrambling for the lost dagger, she pivoted and snatched up a shard of broken porcelain from the floor—a jagged edge of a cup—and hurled it at the Queen's face with lethal intent. Queen Zhenzhu cried out and stumbled back, raising an arm too late. But Li Xiu was faster; she flung her own body in the way. The porcelain shard sliced past her cheek, narrowly missing her eye, and blood dripped warm from the cut just below her temple. Pain blurred her vision, but Li Xiu refused to let weakness take hold. She planted herself between the assassin and the Queen like an unyielding shield.
By now Captain Ouyang had closed the distance. His sword rang free of its scabbard. "Assassin!" he bellowed, the alarm clear. The intruder's eyes darted to the door—her escape now cut off by the armed guard. She spun toward the older servant, Biming, perhaps seeking help, but the poor man was cowering in the corner, utterly stunned and useless.
The assassin hissed in frustration, backing away until she was against the cart, her hands empty. Li Xiu took a step forward, wincing as the cut on her forearm throbbed. A thin trickle of her blood pattered onto the floor. She kept the Queen safely behind her, and the Queen, to her credit, had the sense to remain still and out of the line of fire, though her eyes blazed with anger at this betrayal under her roof.
"It's over," Li Xiu said to the intruder, voice cold and low. "Drop any other weapons and surrender." Her injured arm was starting to burn and go numb—she feared the dagger might have been poisoned, but she could tend to that soon. She still had her own small knife hidden, but she didn't draw it yet, hoping the guard's sword would compel surrender.
For a heartbeat, the young woman's face flickered with uncertainty. Then, with a defiant snarl, she reached into her mouth. Li Xiu's eyes widened—she knew that motion. "No!" Li Xiu shouted, lunging, but it was too late. The assassin bit down hard, and a telltale foam instantly bubbled at her lips. A suicide pill. The woman collapsed to the floor, convulsing. By the time Li Xiu reached her side, the light had already gone out of the assassin's eyes. A bitter odor—almond-like—rose from her mouth. Likely cyanide or its alchemical twin. Li Xiu knelt there, panting, shaking from adrenaline and blood loss, staring at the lifeless figure who had nearly killed both her and the Queen.
Captain Ouyang swiftly moved past them into the Queen's dining room, calling for more guards and the physician. The Queen herself, pale but composed, gently touched Li Xiu's shoulder. "You're hurt," Queen Zhenzhu said softly, concern in her dark eyes.
"It's nothing, Majesty," Li Xiu managed, rising unsteadily. Her forearm and face stung fiercely, and she felt a little lightheaded. Still, she bowed her head. "Forgive me… I tasted poison in the tea and suspected a plot. I'm sorry I allowed this danger to come so close."
The Queen shook her head, eyes shining with gratitude. "You saved my life. And your instincts were right, as always." She glanced down at the dead woman on the floor, sadness and anger warring on her elegant features. "Who was she? How did an assassin infiltrate my home in a servant's guise?"
Li Xiu swallowed, her throat dry. She realized now that this young woman must have been new in the kitchens—a plant by the conspiracy. And the assassin in the hall outside Li Xiu's room—likely an accomplice. They had woven a cunning plan: if the poison in the tea didn't eliminate Li Xiu or the Queen, then a direct attack would follow. Only Li Xiu's vigilance had unmasked it in time.
"We will find out, Your Majesty," Li Xiu said firmly, though exhaustion tugged at her limbs. She noticed Captain Ouyang returning with two more guards and the royal physician, an elderly man carrying a leather satchel. The guards immediately set about securing the area and checking on the trembling servant Biming, who was babbling that he had no idea the girl was an impostor.
Li Xiu stepped aside to allow the physician to tend to the Queen, but Queen Zhenzhu waved him toward Li Xiu first. "See to her wounds," she ordered. "She's bleeding." The physician nodded and gently took Li Xiu's arm, applying a stinging salve to the cut. Li Xiu hissed at the pain but bit back any complaint. The physician then dabbed at the slice on her cheek. "Hold still," he murmured. "These are shallow, you'll live. Lucky girl."
Lucky, indeed. If Li Xiu had reacted a heartbeat slower, the Queen would now lie dying and Li Xiu herself likely slain. She bowed her head as the physician wrapped a clean bandage tightly around her forearm. Already her mind was moving ahead: the assassin had killed herself rather than be caught. That spoke of fanatic loyalty—and perhaps fear of whoever sent her. Li Xiu's eyes drifted to the corpse. Something caught her eye: partly visible at the base of the assassin's throat, where her maid's uniform had shifted, was a dark tattoo. Three interlocking serpents forming a circle.
Li Xiu felt a chill that was not from her wounds. She knew that symbol. During her alchemical training in the far eastern provinces, she had read of a secret society of poisoners and killers-for-hire called The Serpent's Circle. They were said to serve powerful nobles in the shadows, their loyalty bought in blood. If one of the Serpent's Circle was here in the capital, operating within the palace… it meant a far-reaching treachery was at play. This was no lone grudging courtier or disgruntled cook seeking revenge. This was orchestrated, funded—an attack possibly sanctioned by someone high in the kingdom or a foreign power altogether.
Queen Zhenzhu stepped up beside Li Xiu, following her gaze to the mark on the dead woman. The Queen's breath caught. "That tattoo… I recognize it," she whispered, eyes wide. Clearly the Queen had her own knowledge of these matters. "I had hoped never to see that sign within my walls. It cannot be…" She trailed off, pressing a hand to her mouth as if to stop the next words from escaping.
Li Xiu carefully reached out and tugged the edge of the assassin's collar to better reveal the tattoo. The three serpents inked in black coiled in an endless knot, a design meant to signify secrecy and eternity. The sight of it turned Li Xiu's stomach. "The Serpent's Circle," she confirmed quietly. Saying it aloud made it real—and perilous. The Queen closed her eyes, a single tear escaping before she quickly mastered herself. When she opened them again, resolve hardened her features.
"Li Xiu," she said in a low voice meant for her ears alone, "this is bigger than we imagined. If the Serpents are here, someone with great influence has invited them in. We cannot trust anyone… not fully." Her Majesty's hand, cool and steady, touched Li Xiu's arm lightly (thankfully the uninjured one). "I will not forget that I owe you my life this morning. You have my deepest gratitude. But I fear your work—and our danger—is only just beginning."
Li Xiu nodded, her throat tight. Despite the fear still coiling in her belly, she met the Queen's eyes with steadfast determination. "I am yours to command, Majesty. We will root out whoever is behind this, no matter how powerful they may be." Even as she said the words, Li Xiu wondered who in the royal court—or beyond—could have done this. The pieces swirled in her mind: the poisoned tea, the infiltrated maid, the whisper in the night, the Serpent's Circle. Someone had orchestrated it all with chilling precision. Someone who believed they could outwit the Queen's poisoner.
Beyond the antechamber's doors came the tromp of boots as more guards were being roused to secure the area, and distant shouts as the alarm spread through the palace. Dawn had fully broken now; golden sunlight began to spill through the high windows, falling in slants across the disarray of spilled tea and blood on the floor. A new day in the Kingdom of Yan, and with it, a new treachery laid bare.
Li Xiu inhaled that morning air, tinged with the metallic scent of blood and the bitter jasmine of the poisoned tea. The threat was far from over. If anything, it was only growing. She felt the Queen's hand give her a grateful squeeze before Queen Zhenzhu moved to confer with Captain Ouyang. Li Xiu remained standing, blood-smeared and shaken but unbowed, gazing down at the dead assassin. Her wound throbbed in time with her heartbeat, a reminder that she was alive—alive and sworn to protect her Queen.
As the Queen began issuing orders for secrecy and investigation, Li Xiu allowed herself one brief moment to close her eyes. She let her alchemical senses extend, noting every scent and detail once more—the honeyed congee cooling on the cart, the smashed porcelain, the bitter poison in that upturned teacup. Clues and answers hiding in plain sight. She would find them, she vowed. Whoever had sent this killer would soon realize that Li Xiu knew too much indeed—and she was not afraid to know more.
When Li Xiu opened her eyes again, determination burned in them like a hot flame. She gently picked up the fallen dagger the assassin had used, handling it with a piece of the maid's apron to avoid touching the residue of whatever poison gleamed on its edge. The blade was of fine make, the hilt engraved with a tiny crest—one she did not recognize but would certainly investigate. Every puzzle piece counted.
Behind her, the Queen's voice rang with authority as she commanded, "Double the guard at every entrance. And summon Minister Zhang at once." Minister Zhang—the Master of Whispers. If anyone would have insight into secret societies and traitors at court, it was he. Li Xiu heard the name and a new unease coiled within her. She had never quite trusted Zhang, a man too slick by half… but he was the Queen's advisor on conspiracies. Could he himself be involved? The fact that the Queen wanted him informed could either be prudent or perilous. The intrigue only deepened.
Before Li Xiu could dwell on it, the Queen addressed her again. "Li Xiu, you should have your wounds properly cleaned and rest. I fear we will have much to do very soon."
Li Xiu inclined her head, though she doubted rest would come easily. "As you wish, Majesty." She hesitated, then asked quietly, "Do you trust Minister Zhang to aid us in this?" It was a bold question, but after this morning, pretense seemed a waste.
The Queen studied her for a long moment, then answered just as softly, "I trust very few, especially today." Her eyes flickered to the serpent tattoo on the corpse and back. "I will hear what he has to say, but we will keep our own counsel too. The fewer who know the details, the better." Li Xiu felt a small measure of relief at that. At least the Queen was cautious.
Captain Ouyang cleared his throat, gesturing to the guards to carefully remove the assassin's body and clean the mess. The Queen gave a last, lingering look at Li Xiu. "Thank you again, my friend," she said, an uncommon warmth in her tone despite the circumstances. Li Xiu bowed deeply, respect and affection swelling in her chest.
As Queen Zhenzhu was escorted back to her chambers for safety, Li Xiu remained in the antechamber. She watched as the guards covered the body and began to carry it out. Her eyes drifted to the window, where sunlight was now flooding the sky with gold. Morning had come, and she was still alive to see it. But somewhere in that brightness lurked dark enemies.
Li Xiu flexed her bandaged arm gingerly. The pain was manageable; the cut had been shallow, thank the heavens. Her cheek stung too, but she hardly felt it in the rush of thoughts. The Serpent's Circle... Who in the court would dare employ such deadly agents? She recalled rumors of the exiled Duke Anshu, who had long coveted the throne, and of foreign princes who resented Queen Zhenzhu's alliances. The list of those with motive was long. And the Minister of Whispers… what role would he play now?
A heavy sense of both victory and foreboding settled on Li Xiu's shoulders. She had survived the strike at first light and protected her Queen—for now. But the game had grown larger than a lone poisoned cup of tea. The enemy hiding in the palace shadows was powerful and patient, willing to send a fanatic to her death rather than risk exposure.
Li Xiu knew in her bones that this morning's events were only an opening move. As she stepped toward the doorway, she felt the threads of a vast conspiracy stretching out, unseen but palpable, just waiting to be unraveled. And she would unravel them, or die trying.
In the corridor, servants and guards hurried by, their faces pale with the knowledge that an assassin had been among them. Li Xiu squared her shoulders and walked forward. Her wounds ached, her head spun with unanswered questions—but her resolve was unbreakable. The Queen's poisoner would meet this new threat head-on, using every ounce of her wits, intuition, and courage.
Somewhere behind this failed assassin was a mastermind, one who had gravely underestimated Li Xiu's resourcefulness. By the time she was through, they would learn just how much the Queen's poisoner truly knew—and how far she would go to protect her sovereign.
Li Xiu allowed herself one last look back into the antechamber, at the overturned tea cup lying in a puddle of poison on the floor. Dawn's light made the liquid shine like gold, belying the death it carried. With a grim smile, Li Xiu stepped away to face the uncertain day, her fate entwined ever tighter with the dangerous intrigues of the court. A larger enemy lurked in the shadows of the palace, and she was now on the hunt for its face. The next move was hers to make.
Outside, the morning sun climbed, bright and oblivious to the dark treachery that had unfolded and the darker secrets yet to come. Li Xiu disappeared down the corridor, already bracing herself for the trials the new day would bring—unaware that the greatest danger was still to reveal itself, closer than she could possibly imagine…