Chapter 2: Cold Palace, Colder Emperor

They gave her the East Wing. It was the furthest point in the palace from the emperor's chambers, which suited her perfectly. What did not suit her was the state of it — dust on every surface, cobwebs in the corners, the faint smell of something old and forgotten. The last empress had lived here. The one before that too. Neither had lasted longer than a year.

Lihua set her single trunk of belongings on the floor and looked around.

"Cozy," she said.

Her one maid — a girl of perhaps fourteen who had been assigned to her with the apologetic expression of someone handing over a consolation prize — hovered in the doorway.

"Your Highness, I can request more staff—"

"Don't." Lihua pulled the dust sheet off the nearest chair and sat down. "Fewer people means fewer eyes. I prefer it."

The girl blinked. "You are... different from what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone who would cry."

Lihua almost smiled. She had not cried since she was nine years old, standing at her family's grave in the rain, making a promise to a name carved in stone. She was not going to start now.

"Bring me a map of the palace," she said instead. "Every corridor. Every entrance. Every exit."

The maid stared.

"And hot water," Lihua added. "This place smells like a tomb."