The moon hung low above the tiled roofs of the Duke's estate, its soft glow spilling over the tranquil courtyards like water over porcelain. The evening air was cool, scented faintly of osmanthus and the distant crackle of incense from the ancestral shrine.
Most of the estate was asleep; the guards at the gates yawned quietly, the servants retired to their quarters. Only one window remained lit — the chamber of the Empress.
Inside, Lian An sat by her window in silence. The lamplight trembled on her face, tracing the curve of her cheek and the faraway look in her eyes. Her robe of pale white satin pooled loosely around her, its sleeves slipping down as she rested her chin on her palm.
She looked tired, but not from sleeplessness — it was the weight of knowing peace would end soon.
