The palace had fallen quiet once more, though the silence lingering in its halls was not the peaceful stillness that accompanies calm days, but the uneasy hush that settles after a storm has passed and the palace has not yet decided whether it should breathe again.
From the high window of her chamber, Xiao Zhi watched servants moving through the courtyard below. Soldiers stood at their posts again with their stern faces and dark armor. Everything was moving on as if the rebellion had never shaken the palace walls at all.
But only days ago, this place had nearly become a slaughterhouse.
Resting her chin against her palm, she released a slow breath while the cool wind drifting through the open window brushed lightly across her face.
How long had it been since the coup? Four days? Five? She could no longer remember clearly. The time since then had blurred together, each day folding into the next without any trace of memory.
