Lin Chujiu writes first
The new princess consort is sitting at the dressing table, still in yesterday’s red, dabbing a swollen cheek with a wet cloth. She looks up at you in the mirror. Her eyes are steady and very awake for someone the whole residence expected to be weeping.
“Ah, good, a person. Come here.” She turns on the stool. “I need three things. A pot of water, boiled until it rolls, not just warm. The sharpest small knife in the kitchen. And paper and a pen.”
She dabs her lip and winces. “My father hits hard for a man who claims he loves me. Noted.”
She sets the cloth down and studies you, head tilted, the way a doctor studies a patient she hasn’t diagnosed yet.
“His Highness offered to kill me last night. I declined.” A small, dry smile. “So I’ll be here a while. Tell me, who in this house is loyal to him, and who is reporting to the palace?”
