NOVEL NEXT Chapter 310: Rejected Cakes
The Dowager Huai stared at me as if hoping a softer woman would climb out of my face and embrace her.
No such miracle arrived.
I lifted my hand. "Clerk," I called, and the man jerked as if I had yanked a string. "Two lines."
His brush hovered.
"Line one: 'By request of Dowager Huai, the former betrothal between Sun Longzi and Miss Huai is dissolved by mutual convenience. Treasury to settle accounts within seven days.'" I paused until his wrist stopped shaking. "Line two: 'Interference with imperial appointments is punishable by death. This matter is closed.' Stamp both. Deliver to Rites and Treasury. Deliver a copy to the Huai gate by dusk."
The clerk's brush started moving like a man who had just remembered his job saved his life.
Dowager Huai breathed through her teeth again. "You dare—"
"I prefer 'I rule,'" I returned. "Dare implies risk. This is simply order."
She tried one last angle because some people only learn when the door hits them. "If you treat noble houses like this, who will stand with you when wind turns?"
"The houses that understand wind turns because a woman like me decides how many trees live to break it," I replied. "Consider your visit concluded."
Mingyu lifted two fingers. The guards stepped forward—not rough, not coddling. They knew how to escort someone out without providing handholds for melodrama.
She rose with as much grace as fabric and fury allowed and gathered her dignity like a skirt off a mud step. "You think yourself more than a woman," she hissed, low enough she hoped the witnesses would miss it. "You are simply a—"
She paused, but I couldn't help myself. "Witch. The word that you are looking for is Witch. Demon will also work, but it's not strictly accurate."
Her ladies scrambled to gather the lacquer tube, not wanting to stay a moment longer. I flicked a glance at it. "Leave that. The clerk will file it under 'refused.' If you take it home, you'll be tempted to read it to your mirrors."
She froze, turned, dropped the tube on the table harder than she needed to, and swept out with the kind of flourish that convinces small minds a victory has been won.
We held still until her pendants stopped announcing her down the corridor. Then I exhaled once and looked at Mingyu. "One trouble accounted for. Next?"
"Lunch," he murmured, dry. "And then the east galleries—Longzi has already begun to move the posts. Deming growled but cooperated. Yaozu replaced three bell ropes before any monk could quote a verse about it."
"Reward the laundress who thrashed the monk yesterday," I returned. "Men learn faster when women with brooms remind them."
He nodded, pleased despite himself. "Done."
Yaozu slipped in at an angle, as if the room had opened a seam just for him. "Her pages are already in the kitchens trying to trade news for cakes," he reported. "I put Aunt Ping by the stove. If the boys insist on earning treats, they'll earn them by scrubbing pots."
"Excellent," I approved. "Send a tray of sweets to the Huai carriage. Let the Dowager chew sugar instead of servants."
"Consider it chewed," he murmured.
Deming appeared in the doorway, mask catching a dull slice of light. He didn't ask how it had gone. He didn't need to. He glanced at the clerk's fresh copies, read the shape of the characters without moving closer, and grunted satisfaction. "I'll inform War that their general won't be returning to the frontier. They can stop pretending to hold a chair for him."
"Do it," I returned. "And remind the Minister that a chair left empty gathers dust, not honor."
He almost smiled under the iron. Almost.
I rose. The lacquer tube still sat untouched. I pushed it toward the clerk with one finger. "Archive."
He bowed so low his forehead would wear a bruise tomorrow.
Mingyu offered me the tea I hadn't asked for. It had cooled. I drank it anyway. "You didn't even read her list," he observed, amused.
"I didn't need to," I replied. "Mothers only write two lists. One to scare, one to save face. Burn either; the other becomes useless."
"You didn't burn it."
"I burned her time," I returned. "More efficient."
A shadow crossed the threshold—Longzi, uniform simple, posture already adjusted to corridors instead of plains. He stopped at the lintel and waited for my attention. He had learned quickly.
"Captain," I acknowledged.
"Inner routes measured," he reported. "Two corners invite ambush. I've already moved the stands. The Emperor's noon circuit will be run backward today and forward tomorrow. Anyone who forgets the new turnings will be reassigned to counting bricks."
"Good," I returned. "You had a visitor."
"I heard," he answered, no flicker. "I instructed the gate not to admit grievances regarding my private life."
"That will save everyone time," I replied. "Fourth bell. Bring me two routes I would choose and one I would never choose. I want to see if you know why."
"Yes."
He withdrew. Deming followed, steps syncing without trying, the way two men who had learned to hear each other's weight moved when they were not pretending to be enemies.
Mingyu angled a look at me. "One day you will wake and find that every corridor in this palace bends around where you intended to walk."
"Better that than a corridor that waits to trip me," I returned.
Yaozu's mouth almost turned up. "And the Dowager?"
"Give her a writing stool and a view of the wall," I instructed. "If she tries to compose a tragedy, I expect a copy before her own household sees it. If she writes a one-line acceptance, send her home with cakes and a receipt."
"Understood."
We stepped out together. A bell somewhere did its work. Servants flowed back into motion now that the weather had changed. I felt the boards under my feet choose a steadier rhythm.
"Next?" Mingyu asked, more cheerful than he had any right to be after a morning like this.
"Breakfast for the heir," I returned. "And a patrol for a Captain who has learned how to hold a doorway without shouting about it."
"And a mother to tell that her daughter isn't the first to think a wrist is a promise," Yaozu added, amused at last.
"If she wants a promise," I said, letting the corner of my mouth tilt, "she can make one to herself."
We rounded the turn toward the east wing. A boy with a basin sprinted past and didn't spill. I made a note to feed him first for a week. The day shifted its shoulders and decided to cooperate.
"Report from the west gate," a runner breathed, catching us at the corner. "The Dowager's carriage departed. She left the sweets on the step."
"Send them to the barracks," I returned without breaking stride. "Let the soldiers learn what a rejected cake tastes like."
The runner grinned and vanished. Mingyu huffed something that wanted to be a laugh and didn't quite dare.
We reached the screen to the inner rooms and I lifted my hand to push it aside. Shadow's tail thumped once from inside. Lin Wei's breath would sound like the smallest tide. The world, properly arranged, holds.