The summons came at dawn.
Lin Qian was dragged from his tiny room by two grim-faced guards, marched straight into the great court. His heart thudded the whole way. He hadn't spilled tea on the throne again, had he?
When the doors opened, he realized it was worse.
The entire court was gathered. Ministers lined the hall, eyes gleaming like vultures circling prey. At the center, Feng Lianhua sat on the throne, face carved in ice.
A high minister stepped forward, bowing. "My Lord, this boy is unfit to stand at your side. Rumors swirl that he meddles with your sacred fire, perhaps even bewitched you. For the dignity of the Phoenix Court, we demand he be questioned."
Lin Qian's knees nearly buckled. Questioned? That sounded like a polite word for torture.
He glanced at Feng Lianhua, expecting dismissal—or worse, indifference. But instead, the Phoenix Lord's gaze sharpened, dangerous.
"Questioned?" he said softly. The temperature in the hall dropped, flames flickering at the edges of his robe. "You would lay hands on my shadow?"
The minister faltered, sweat beading on his brow. "My Lord, I—I only meant to—"
"Silence."
The word cracked like thunder. The brazier flames roared higher, casting the chamber in searing light.
Lin Qian froze. His chest tightened. He had expected the Phoenix Lord to let him be torn apart by politics—but instead, Feng Lianhua was defending him. Fiercely.
"Lin Qian answers to me alone," Feng declared, his voice like steel wrapped in fire. "If any here doubts that, you may test the fire yourself."
No one moved. No one dared.
Lin Qian's hands trembled at his sides. His throat felt dry, his heart hammering. He didn't know what terrified him more: the sight of a roomful of ministers cowering… or the realization that the most dangerous man in the empire had just claimed him, openly, before them all.