Morning sunlight spilled through the lattice windows, painting faint gold patterns across the polished floor.
The palace had awakened with its usual rhythm—maids whispering in corridors, the distant sound of bells marking the hour, the faint scent of sandalwood from the temple courtyard.
Ananya sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The echoes of last night's chaos had finally faded, replaced by a rare calm.
Her body still ached, but her mind was sharp.
The Emperor hadn't spoken to her since their return.
Fine. She didn't need his words.
Today, she had another task in mind.
"The Dowager must know I've returned," she murmured, tying her hair into a neat knot. "But she's not the kind to send for me first."
Fen Yu floated beside her, twirling a strand of her own ghostly hair. "You're going to her again? She doesn't like anyone."
"Then I'll give her a reason to," Ananya replied.
