The aristocratic faction beamed. They whispered to one another, practically vibrating with triumph. The Emperor's favor was clear. Their power was absolute. The Empress was the undisputed master of the inner court, and by extension, they were the masters of the empire.
More gifts followed. There were ancient, illuminated scrolls of poetry recovered from lost dynasties. There were massive, glowing night-pearls the size of melons. There were bolts of silk woven from the threads of mythical snow-spiders, so fine they could be pulled through a gold ring.
Every gift was a carefully calculated bribe. Every bow was a demonstration of the Empress's sprawling, cancerous root system within the government.
Heena watched it all with a detached, clinical fascination. The sheer scale of the corruption was breathtaking. She took another slow sip of her sweet wine, her eyes drifting upward to the imperial dais.
