Chapter 17 · The Emperor's Men Hit the Door

"Stay behind me." Yanzhan's voice cut through the courtyard noise like a blade through silk.

I didn't argue. The gates were already groaning open, and I could see the gleam of imperial armor flooding through—red lacquer and gold trim, way too pretty for soldiers who actually fought. Two hundred men, the runner had said. Two hundred against Yanzhan's garrison, which was already half-starved and poisoned.

The odds sucked.

"Grace." Jingchuan's hand found my sleeve. His fingers were cold. "When she walks in, don't look away first."

"What?"

"Su Liyue reads submission like a book. You blink, you lose."

Great. Staring contests with a woman who'd tried to murder him. I gripped the grain sack tighter, felt the blackened kernels shift inside the coarse fabric. Evidence. The only card I had.

The courtyard went dead quiet.

The Emperor walked in first.

I'd expected old, maybe. Frail. The kind of guy who needed ten eunuchs to hold his robe up. Wrong. He was maybe forty, broad-shouldered, wearing dark brocade that didn't catch the light. His face was smooth, unreadable, the kind of expression that came from decades of people lying to him.