The rain had stopped by morning, but the palace still felt damp with unease.
Jian walked through the inner corridors with measured steps, his mind restless. The events of the masquerade, the gardener's whispered warnings, the buried bones beneath the Queen's roses each revelation should have brought him closer to the truth.
And yet, the more he uncovered, the more the truth slipped away from him, shifting like mist in the valley.
At his side, Wei walked in silence, their hurried footsteps the only sound in the deserted hall. Jian knew she felt the same unease, it was written in the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched at every flicker of movement in the shadows.
"Something isn't right."
Not just the disease. Not just the Queen's cryptic decree. But something deeper, something older than politics or power.
Wei finally spoke. "What will you do now?"
Jian didn't answer immediately. He had intended to investigate further, to press deeper into the palace's hidden places. But after the events of last night, something in his gut told him he wouldn't get far on his own.
"I need to speak to someone inside the Council," he said. "Someone who isn't afraid to give me answers."
Wei gave him a sharp look. "That's a dangerous game, Jian."
"I know." He exhaled slowly. "But I need to know how much the Queen really knows. And whether she is the one pulling the strings… or if someone else is."
The Queen's Council Chamber
The council had convened in the Hall of Jade a vast chamber lined with carved wooden pillars, where the empire's most powerful minds debated laws, wars, and secrets they would take to their graves.
Jian stood at the threshold, eyes scanning the gathered officials.
Seated at the head was Minister Yao, the Queen's most trusted strategist. His sharp, fox-like features were unreadable as he listened to an argument between two lesser ministers about the trade routes in the south.
Jian had always distrusted Yao. A man who served not out of loyalty, but out of self-preservation.
His gaze shifted.
Councilor Ren, the frail but wise elder, was missing from his usual place. Jian's stomach tightened he had seen Ren's body slumped over his desk just days ago, the ink still wet on a forbidden document. Had the Queen known?
Had someone made sure he never spoke again?
Jian stepped forward, and the murmuring ceased.
"Prince Jian," Minister Yao greeted, his voice smooth as silk but cold as steel. "We were not expecting you."
Jian bowed slightly, feigning deference. "I come only with a question."
"Then ask, and we shall answer… if we are able."
Jian's fingers curled into his sleeve. "The sickness spreading beyond the palace walls why have no royal decrees been issued? The people are in fear. Some claim the gods are punishing us."
Minister Yao exchanged a look with Chancellor Bo, the second highest-ranking member of the council. The two men seemed to come to a silent agreement before Yao finally spoke.
"The Queen," Yao said, carefully, "believes that certain… matters are best handled discreetly."
"Discreetly?" Jian repeated. "There are entire villages disappearing."
A flicker of something perhaps irritation crossed Yao's face, but it was gone in an instant.
Chancellor Bo cleared his throat. "What do you suggest, Your Highness? That we announce to the people that we do not have control? That would only bring chaos."
"Then do we have control?" Jian pressed.
Silence.
Then Yao leaned forward slightly. "Prince Jian, it is best to remember that not everything requires your concern. There are… older forces at work here. And forces far beyond your understanding."
Jian's pulse quickened. Older forces?
Was Yao admitting that this was no ordinary plague?
Or was he simply trying to lead Jian in the wrong direction?
Jian's mind raced. He needed more something solid, something that could either confirm or destroy his growing suspicions.
"The masquerade," he said abruptly. "What happened last night those dancers "
A new voice cut him off.
"A tragedy," said Lord Shen, a nobleman who rarely spoke during council meetings. "Poor wretches, infected by madness."
Jian turned to face him. "Then why were they there? Why parade the sick before the court?"
Shen's jaw tightened, but it was Chancellor Bo who answered.
"The Queen," he said softly, "wished to show us that even in darkness, we must remain unshaken. That we cannot fear."
Jian's blood ran cold.
This was not an answer. This was a carefully crafted lie.
Wei had been right. This wasn't just negligence. This was control.
And yet, who was truly in control?
The Queen? Minister Yao? The council as a whole?
Or was there something else something lurking in the shadows of the throne?
The Broken Seal
Jian left the chamber more uncertain than when he had entered.
He had gone seeking answers, and instead, he had found more questions.
As he strode down the corridors, Wei caught up to him.
"Well?" she asked.
Jian shook his head. "They know more than they say. But the question is… who is leading this?"
Wei frowned. "You still don't think it's the Queen?"
Jian exhaled sharply. "I don't know. That's the problem."
They turned a corner and nearly collided with a hooded figure standing by the stone pillars.
Jian's hand flew to his dagger, but the figure held up both hands in surrender.
"I have something for you," the man whispered.
Jian recognized the voice.
One of the Queen's personal scribes.
The man reached into his sleeve, producing a scroll sealed with wax black wax, marked with a broken sigil.
Jian took it hesitantly.
"I never saw you," the scribe muttered, then vanished down the corridor.
Jian unrolled the parchment. His breath hitched.
The symbols ancient, jagged were the same as those in the ledger Wei had given him. The same as the markings on the corpses in the cellar.
But beneath them, scrawled hastily in a language he almost couldn't read, was a single sentence:
"The roots are not hers alone."
Jian's grip tightened.
The Queen. The Council. The masked figures in the garden.
What was he truly fighting?
And worse what if he had been chasing the wrong shadow all along?