The hall smelled of incense and iron. Dawn did not yet prick the sky, but torches had been set, and the courtiers' faces were pale in the thin light.
Zhao Rui's robe hung impeccably about him; the dragon on his breast gleamed like a promise. He had not spoken all night. The ledger from Duke Lian lay open on a side table, its pages heavy with truth.
When the emperor finally rose, his voice carried like a sword through the chamber. "The crime is clear. Treason disguised as trade. Men who use the Emperor's seal to feed enemies and starve their own people have answered the worst question a man can ask: would he betray his country for coin?"
Chen Tai and other Chen relatives scrambled, lips moving in protest. Lady Chen's face was a ruin of fury and fear — she sat like a figure whose strings had been cut, fingers white on the edge of her silk.
