Several boxes arrived just after the midday meal—delivered in silence by a trembling maid at the head of the procession of five eunuchs, all of whom refused to meet my eyes. I let them set the boxes down on the lacquered table beside the plum wine and didn't ask questions. I already knew who it was from.
The wood of every box was rose-gold, polished until it gleamed like a lie. Carved blossoms danced across the lids—too delicate, too precise. And the seal?
A single curved brushstroke, crimson as dried blood.
Imperial Concubine Yi.
How thoughtful.
I didn't open the closest one right away. I finished my wine first, letting the glass rest against my lower lip for a long moment. The room was quiet. Shi Yaozu had left earlier to trail a messenger who'd been asking about Baiguang's troop numbers, and the servants knew better than to linger when I was reading.
Only when the tea had cooled slightly did I reach forward and lift the lid.
