The Court Summons
By evening, the palace was a furnace of light. Dozens of lanterns burned in every corridor, casting gold across marble and jade. The Empress's summons had been short, her seal pressed in black wax. There was no explanation, no courtesy. She never gave either.
Hei Long walked the length of the crimson carpet toward the High Throne. His steps were steady, each one echoing through the chamber as nobles lined the sides. They whispered as he passed. They whispered about him, about the three women who trailed like shadows wherever he went, about the garden at night and the storm it had birthed.
The Empress sat above them all, veiled in silk as red as blood. She lifted her hand and the hall fell silent.
"General Hei Long," she said, her voice cool and heavy, "your name has grown too quickly. Your shadow stretches beyond the battlefield now."
Hei Long bowed, expression unreadable. "Then perhaps the shadow grows because the throne demands a taller flame."
