The journey back to the capital of the Anming Empire was a jarring, terrifying blur for the woman who was still, in her own mind, just Lin Xin.
She, General Xie Ren, and her son, Lin An, rode in an imposing, black-laquered imperial carriage. Lin An, after the initial fear, had fallen asleep, his small head resting in her lap, his fiery red hair a stark contrast to her own dark robes.
Lin Xin could not sleep. She stared out the window, watching the world rush by, her heart a tangled mess of fear and a strange, aching familiarity. Yue Xinyi. Goddess of War. Ninth Consort. The titles felt alien, like a story about someone else.
General Xie Ren sat opposite them, his armor impeccable, his gaze fixed on her.
"Do you... remember any of this, Your Highness?" he asked, his voice low.
Lin Xin shook her head, clutching Lin An tighter. "Only... fragments. A man's voice. Red hair. The scent of sandalwood."
Xie Ren nodded, a pained look in his eyes. "His Majesty. He will be... overjoyed. This will heal the empire."
Lin Xin wanted to believe him. She wanted to feel the joy of a wife returning to a loving husband. But all she felt was the cold dread of an amnesiac about to be thrown to the wolves.
When they reached the capital, the carriage didn't slow. It thundered through the massive city gates and up the wide, clear road toward the Imperial Palace. The scale of the walls, the sheer number of guards, made her stomach clench.
The carriage stopped before the immense, vermilion gates of the Forbidden City.
"Announce the return of General Xie Ren," the general commanded the guards. "I bring urgent news for His Majesty, the Emperor!"
The gates opened. But it was not a welcoming party that greeted them.
It was a full detachment of the Imperial Guard, their golden-lacquered armor gleaming, their faces impassive. They were led not by a eunuch, but by the Captain of the Palace Guard.
"General Xie," the Captain said, his voice flat, offering a curt bow. "His Majesty has been awaiting your report from the border."
"My report can wait," Xie Ren said, his voice booming with barely contained joy. He stepped down and turned to the carriage, holding his hand out to Lin Xin. "I have brought him a miracle. I have found her."
He helped her down from the carriage. She kept Lin An held close to her chest.
Xie Ren turned to the Captain. "Go, man! Announce the return of the Ninth Consort, Yue Xinyi!"
The Captain of the Guard did not move. His eyes flickered from Lin Xin's face to the red-haired child in her arms, and his expression turned to ice.
"General, you have been away from the capital for a long time."
He pointed at Lin Xin.
"This woman is an impostor. Seize the traitor."
"What?!" Xie Ren roared, his hand instantly flying to the hilt of his sword. "Have you gone mad? This is Yue Xinyi! The Goddess of War!"
"The Goddess of War died three years ago," the Captain said coldly. "We all saw the funeral. His Majesty's true consort is in the palace as we speak. You have been deceived, General. Or worse, you are part of this treason."
"You are mistaken!" Xie Ren drew his blade, a superhuman aura of martial prowess rolling off him.
The guards flinched but held their ground.
"We are not mistaken, General," the Captain said, his voice hard. "We have proof. Proof that this woman is a spy from the northern tribes, sent here with a bastard child to destabilize the throne. Now, stand down, or you will be arrested for treason as well."
Xie Ren was frozen. He was the Emperor's blade, but he had been at war. He didn't know the palace's currents. Proof? What proof?
Before he could decide to fight the entire guard, two guards shoved past him and seized Lin Xin.
"No!" she screamed, clutching Lin An.
"Niang!" the boy shrieked, his small hands grabbing her robes.
"The child!" the Captain ordered.
A guard brutally pried Lin An from her arms.
"Let him go! He's just a baby!" Lin Xin screamed, fighting with a strength that surprised them.
"General Xie!" the Captain snapped. "The child is a separate matter. Secure him. She goes to the Emperor for judgment."
Xie Ren, his face a mask of thunderous confusion, snatched Lin An from the guard, cradling the crying, red-haired boy against his chest plate. He was trapped.
"I will protect him, Your Highness," he vowed to Lin Xin. "I will get to the bottom of this!"
"Take the traitor to the throne room," the Captain commanded.
Lin Xin felt her world end as she was dragged away from her son, her desperate cries echoing off the cold, imperial stone.
The throne room was vast, silent, and cold.
Lin Xin was thrown to her knees in the center of the floor, her body trembling. Two guards held her arms, forcing her head down.
"Your Majesty," the Captain's voice echoed. "The impostor who dares to wear the face of the late Consort Yue."
Lin Xin's heart was hammering. She could smell it. The same scent from her fragmented memories—rich, dark sandalwood.
"Look at me," a voice commanded.
It was low, cold, and devoid of all emotion. It was the voice from her dreams, but all the warmth was gone.
She lifted her head.
There he was. Seated on the Dragon Throne, Emperor Qi Yucheng. His hair was the color of fire, his robes a deep imperial gold. He was beautiful, and his eyes were as dead and cold as winter.
He stared at her, not with the shock of a man seeing a ghost, but with the mild, annoyed curiosity of a man examining a forgery.
"Yucheng," a soft, gentle voice cooed from beside the throne. "You must not be so harsh. She is clearly terrified."
A woman glided into view, stepping down from the dais.
Lin Xin's breath hitched.
It was her.
It was her own face.
The same black hair, the same brown eyes, the same features. But this woman was dressed in the lavish, impossibly intricate robes of the Ninth Consort. She was flawless, pale, and moved with a delicate, practiced grace. She was, Lin Xin noted, weaker. This was not the body of a warrior.
This was Yue Ruyan, her twin sister.
Ruyan walked over and knelt beside Lin Xin, her movements a perfect picture of aristocratic pity. She tilted her head, a "kind" smile on her face as she examined her identical twin.
"You poor thing," Ruyan whispered, her voice like soft silk, but loud enough for the Emperor to hear. "Look at you. You're shaking."
She turned, her beautiful eyes filling with tears as she looked up at the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, she must be a tool. Someone must have forced her to do this, to poison your heart by reminding you of my poor, dead sister."
Lin Xin stared, her mind shattering. Sister?
Ruyan turned back to her. "Tell me," she said, her voice full of 'compassion'. "Who did this to you? Who sent you here to impersonate the Ninth Consort?"
Lin Xin's amnesiac fog was sliced apart by a sudden, horrifying clarity. She looked at the nice, concerned face of her sister, and she saw the lie.
The Emperor was watching her, his expression cold. Her sister was framing her. Her son was gone.
She was alone, and she had been brought here to die.