The Silken Pavilion was a space suspended between privilege and performance.
It wasn't part of the formal court. It wasn't for servants. It existed only for women the Emperor—or his son—had chosen to notice. Every woman summoned there had reason to stand straighter, speak softer, and listen twice before opening her mouth.
That morning, three such women were sent invitations.
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Lin Meiqi arrived first.
She chose a seat in the shade, where she could see the pavilion's entrance and the stretch of marble path beyond. A tea tray was already prepared. She did not drink.
Instead, she studied.
Two silk sparrows hung from the wooden beams overhead, suspended by red thread. One fluttered slightly in the breeze.
She was watching the sway of that sparrow when a second woman entered—tall, with dark hair coiled in twin loops and a smooth, confident step.
The foreigner.
Sera Whitmore's eyes swept the pavilion with the alertness of someone used to judging unfamiliar terrain. She wore light cream robes—cut like the palace required, but her stride still had a street rhythm beneath it.
Their eyes met.
"Lady Lin?" Sera offered, flashing a half-smile.
Meiqi inclined her head. "Lady Whitmore."
"Lovely place," Sera said, settling on the opposite side of the table. "Bit stiff. Reminds me of the Queen's greenhouse in Somerset. But without the gin."
"You speak as if the air here offends you."
Sera laughed. "Not the air. Just the quiet. It always means something's listening."
Meiqi didn't smile. But she didn't look away either.
Moments later, a third woman arrived—delicate in build, with blue silk robes and eyes like morning frost. Yu Anhai bowed slightly before entering fully.
Neither of the others had expected someone so composed.
Anhai took the last cushion—between them, but not aligned with either. She didn't speak at first.
Instead, she studied both women with the stillness of someone reading the first line of a dangerous book.
At last, Meiqi broke the pause.
"I assume we are not gathered here by coincidence."
"No," Anhai said softly. "This is a test."
Sera blinked. "A test? Of what—tea etiquette? Fashion diplomacy?"
"Of proximity," Meiqi said. "How we behave when the walls have ears. When rivals share tea."
"Are we rivals, then?" Sera asked, voice light. But her gaze sharpened.
"Not yet," Anhai murmured.
That silenced them.
Wind moved the sparrows again, red thread twisting overhead.
For a while, no one spoke.
Then Meiqi reached for the teapot and poured into all three cups.
"Let's pretend, for now," she said, "that we are just women. Not pieces."
Sera raised her cup in a mock toast. "To pretending."
Anhai's fingers curled around her cup but didn't lift it.
And somewhere behind a screen, behind a wall, behind a veil of silence—
Someone was listening.