chapter 1

Mother was not even allowed into the imperial mausoleum.

They buried her on a barren hill in Jiangnan. There was no gravestone, no tree, only a small mound marked so it could be found again.

I sat hugging my knees on the bed in Yaohua Palace while Wanqiu, Mother’s trusted senior maid, tearfully told me what had been done after her death.

“Your Highness, Her Ladyship died so horribly, and so unjustly. I heard—”

The candlelight made the curtain sway, revealing the corner of a robe. I raised my voice and cut off her sobbing whisper.

“Don’t cry, Wanqiu. Mother contracted the plague and succumbed to her illness. If anyone is to blame, it can only be fate.”

She stared at me in shock. I warned her with my eyes that the walls had ears. Wanqiu was no fool. She fell silent at once.

“How perceptive my daughter is. Worthy indeed of being Abbess Jing’an’s disciple.”

Father gave a chilly laugh and lifted the curtain. His gaze bored into my face as though it could pierce my eyes and expose my thoughts.

I fought down my fear and met his stare. “The abbess says every life follows its appointed course. Birth, age, illness, and death—no one escapes them.”

Father snorted. “True enough, but she was still your mother. Such coldness at your age is hardly natural. These wretched slaves must have corrupted you.”

His wintry gaze swept across Wanqiu. Then, as casually as crushing a mosquito, he said, “Drag her out and beat her to death.”

Wanqiu trembled, but bit her lip and made no plea.

I jumped down, snatched up a scroll, and said, “Father, a maid is no great loss. But she has one skill no one else possesses—Mother personally taught her to paint. Could you let her finish this portrait of Mother before she dies?”

Father paused and took the scroll. Mother seemed alive on the silk. Something complicated flashed through his eyes before he rolled it shut.

“Then give her a drug and poison her mute.”

Only after he left did I breathe again. Wanqiu had lost her voice, but at least both of us were alive.

Rumors had spread through the palace from the moment Father returned. Consort Ning, once favored above all others, had died suddenly in Jiangnan and been buried there without even a coffin brought home. People could not help wondering why.

Wanqiu had not gone south with us, and she could learn nothing from me. Her desperation had drawn the attention of those waiting to exploit it.

I stared into the flame. Two days earlier I had burned a note over it: The emperor forbids talk of your mother’s death. Little Liuer, be careful.

The handwriting was identical to the message someone had pressed into my palm before I returned to the capital:

Little Liuer, the emperor is suspicious and bloodthirsty. Whatever anyone says, your mother died of the plague. Remember that.

You must live. It was your mother’s only wish.

My name was Xiao Lingyi, Princess Anping of Great Liang. Little Liuer was a childhood name known only to Mother and me.

Father did not move me from Yaohua Palace. I remained in Mother’s main hall under the care of Noble Lady Liang, who lived in a side residence. Mother had once shown her kindness, and she remembered it. Having never enjoyed imperial favor herself, she raised me wholeheartedly as her own daughter.

Father, meanwhile, seemed to forget I existed. He never set foot in Yaohua Palace again.

Years passed. Noble Lady Liang said I looked more like Mother every day.

On my fourteenth birthday, a mysterious gift arrived: a pot of crimson flowers, red as fire, and a note in that familiar hand. It called the flower a red spider lily and explained in detail how to tend it. At the end were the words:

Little Liuer, may you live free of illness and calamity, and know joy all your life.

I had barely burned the note when Father’s chief eunuch arrived. The Imperial Astronomical Bureau had observed a comet entering the Taiwei Enclosure and threatening the Imperial Star. Father had summoned every prince and princess to Qianqing Palace.

My heart lurched. Claiming I needed to change, I released the green bird from its cage, then had Wanqiu paint plum blossoms on my brow in the style Mother once wore and fasten Mother’s favorite willow hairpin into my hair.

My two elder brothers were already kneeling when I reached Qianqing Palace. Father had few children: two sons and one daughter. The Eldest Prince was Consort Liu’s son, backed by Jiangnan’s foremost aristocratic clan. The Second Prince was the empress’s legitimate son, backed by the Zheng clan of Hexi.

Director Zhang of the Astronomical Bureau sat below Father with an astrolabe, his brush flying over paper. Father looked up at my face and went still for an instant. Pretending not to notice, I knelt beside the Second Prince.

“Anping, is today your birthday?”

I said it was.

“Consort Ning went into premature labor and suffered an entire day to bear you. Remember to burn incense for her today.”

I kowtowed three times. “I will never forget the grace of life and nurture bestowed by Father and Mother.”

He nodded, then turned to Director Zhang. “Well? Have you finished?”

Director Zhang studied the three of us, visibly uncertain. “Your Majesty, all three Highnesses possess unusual destinies. The Second Prince and Third Princess in particular are not yet fully grown, and their physiognomies may still change.”

Father grew impatient. “Judge them as they appear today.”

“I believe both the Second Prince’s and Third Princess’s charts could threaten the Imperial Star. Yet the Third Princess’s present features appear harmless to Your Majesty.”

I lowered my eyes and stilled my breathing. The plum blossom between my brows concealed the red mole there perfectly.

The Second Prince sprang upright. “You treacherous official! Who ordered you to spout sorcery and murder imperial blood?”

A jade paperweight flew from above. He dared not dodge. Its corner cut his cheek and left a dreadful streak of blood.

“Director Zhang obeys me. Which traitor do you imagine commands him?” Father’s voice promised a storm.

The Second Prince shook. His gaze darted around until it found me, and he seized on me like a drowning man clutching driftwood.

“With Third Sister wearing such elaborate makeup, can her face truly be read? Why not make her wash it off and let Director Zhang look again?”

Veins bulged at his temples. The bloody cut only made his expression more savage.

I turned away, then lifted my face to Father’s suspicious eyes. “If Second Brother doubts me so deeply, I will remove my makeup and prove my innocence.”