NOVEL NEXT Chapter 206: Allies and Ashes
The trail bent beneath frost-cracked stone, silent underfoot except for the soft crunch of hooves and the creak of leather straps.
We didn't speak much on the way down.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because nothing needed to be said.
Yaozu rode beside me, one hand steady on the reins, the other loose at his thigh—always within reach of a blade, though we hadn't seen a soul for hours. Shadow darted ahead now and then, ears alert, tail flicking, circling back only when the path narrowed to single file.
The cold didn't bother me. Not anymore.
I'd slept in his arms the last two nights, my face pressed into the curve of his neck, our bodies tangled beneath the thick wool blanket as if only having one blanket was the perfect excuse as to why we were sleeping together.
He hadn't let go. Not even once. And I hadn't asked him to.
By the time we crested the last ridge and caught sight of the western gate of the capital, dusk had already claimed the horizon. The guards spotted us long before we reached them—though none dared challenge us. They recognized me. And even if they hadn't known who I was, there was no doubt that they could mistake just who Yaozu was. The Devil's Left Hand rode like silence incarnate.
The gates opened without command.
The crowd parted without sound.
Inside the walls, the city buzzed—but stilled for one breath as we passed. Markets quieted. Lanterns flickered. Faces turned to catch a glimpse of what they couldn't name.
And I didn't offer them a title.
I kept my eyes forward.
It wasn't until we reached the manor steps that a servant stepped forward with a quick bow, voice thin with nerves.
"The Crown Prince requests your presence at the Imperial Palace, in the eastern pavilion, Your Highness. There is... a feast."
Of course there was.
The people would want to see us again. Proof that the rumors were true. That the mountain had been cleared. That Baiguang was bleeding, and the girl once abandoned by the Prime Minister had returned unbroken.
I nodded my head and turned my horse toward the palace. Yaozu's actions mirrored my own, every my most faithful shadow.
When we finally reached the Imperial Palace, still dressed in our travel clothes that had three days of dirt caked on them, I slid off my horse and handed the reins to a stable boy. Yaozu did the same.
"We don't have to go," he said lowly, brushing a fallen pine needle from my shoulder.
"I know," I said. "But we will."
He didn't question it. Just fell into step beside me.
The eastern pavilion was already lit, the carved beams glowing with candlelight, gold lacquer, and enough silk to choke a kingdom. Musicians sat in the corner strumming slow, somber chords. A long table curved like a serpent down the center of the room, overflowing with lacquered duck, spiced pork, and gilded platters of winter fruit.
Zhu Mingyu stood near the head, dressed in deep black with a thread of crimson at his collar.
When he saw me, he didn't smile.
Just nodded once, sharp and satisfied.
"You're late," he said.
"I'm not," I replied, stepping forward. "You're early."
His lip curled faintly. "And Yaozu?"
"Was with me, so he clearly can't be late, either."
A silence passed. Then, Mingyu turned to the rest of the court. "Let it be known that my Empress, my chosen Queen has returned. Baiguang has lost another one of their important allies."
Scattered applause. Measured. Political. And twinged with just the slightest bit of fear.
I took my seat beside him and waited as the wine was poured.
The feast that followed was not meant for celebration. It was meant for control. To show everyone in both the shadow and the light what was done in the darkness. What could be done if they didn't want to fall in line and follow the new Emperor of Daiyu.
Even if we hadn't have had an official coronation yet.
Every movement, every toast, every carefully arranged plate—it was a performance. A reminder.
That even in the face of rebellion, the court still held its center.
That we had not broken.
But beneath the surface, alliances were shifting like sand under a slow tide.
Lord Jiang, fat and flushed from wine, leaned across the table toward me at one point, voice lowered to a conspirator's whisper.
"Your Highness," he said, "we've heard rumors of supply caches being found across the western border. Burned out. Looted. Would that have been your doing?"
"No," I said, sipping my tea. "That would've been the consequence of building armories in someone else's yard."
He blinked.
I let the pause hang. Let the weight of the words settle.
"Baiguang was hiding their supplies in Yelan," I continued. "Claiming neutrality while moving grain and steel across the plain routes. They thought I wouldn't notice. They forgot the only way through that plain is past my mountain."
Silence.
Lord Jiang paled.
"Yelan hasn't declared war," he managed.
"No," I said. "But they did allow a hostile force to build behind their skirts. That makes them complicit."
"And now?" Mingyu asked from beside me, tone casual, but his fingers were tight around the stem of his cup.
"Now?" I leaned back. "We let them explain themselves. Politely. In front of witnesses."
I felt the shift in the room then.
Not panic. Not fear.
Recalculation.
Because no one wanted war with Yelan. But no one wanted to appear weak either. And now that Baiguang's lines had failed, the ones who profited in silence were being dragged into the light.
I raised my cup again and nodded toward the silent ministers lining the back wall.
"Tell your warlords to write new letters," I said. "We're not here to save the east, the west, the north or the south. We're here to decide who's worth keeping after the ashes fall."
The musicians kept playing.
The candles kept flickering.
And from beside me, Mingyu finally smiled.
A small one. Sharp.
The kind of smile you wore when the last piece on the board had just moved into place exactly how you wanted it to be.