The petition was delivered with ceremony—wrapped in gold silk, escorted by three eunuchs, and sealed with the crest of Baiguang as if its presence alone could command respect. It was announced as a request, not a demand, though everyone in the throne room knew better.
Courtiers shifted where they stood. Their heads might have been bowed respectfully, but their eyes were sharp with calculation. The Baiguang Princess, barely two days into her stay, had asked to join in a hunt. But she didn't want just any hunt, no, she had specified a traditional one that was once reserved for heirs, warlords, and chosen bloodlines. And now she wanted to step into the circle as if it already belonged to her.
