The snow fell silently over the capital, white enough to look innocent.
Xiao Shui knelt in the center of the courtyard, her back straight despite the iron chains biting into her wrists. Blood soaked through her thin palace robes, blooming dark red against the frost. Around her, the gates of the Xiao Manor stood open, bodies piled carelessly like discarded furniture.
Her family was gone.
Her father's head hung from the city wall, eyes still open, as if he could not believe the empire he served for thirty years had devoured him whole.
"Xiao Shui."
The voice that called her name was warm. Almost gentle.
She lifted her head.
Prince Yang stood before her in a dragon-patterned robe, gold thread catching the pale winter light. He looked exactly as he had on the day he married her. Handsome, noble, and spotless. Not a fleck of blood touched him.
"You should thank me," he said calmly. "If not for your past service, I would have executed you along with them."
Xiao Shui laughed.
The sound cracked her throat.
"Thank you?" Her lips trembled as she stared at him. "For killing my entire clan?"
Prince Yang sighed, as if she were being unreasonable. "Your father supported the wrong faction. Treason invites annihilation. That is the law."
She remembered the day she entered his household. How she bowed, how she obeyed, how she loved him with the foolish devotion of a woman who believed loyalty would be repaid.
She remembered how he pushed her aside to favor another woman. How he allowed rumors to rot her name. How he watched silently as her family was accused.
"How many times," Xiao Shui asked softly, "did you plan this?"
Prince Yang did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Behind him, the imperial decree was unrolled. The eunuch read aloud in a sharp, emotionless voice:
"Xiao clan, guilty of treason. Punishment: execution of all male members, exile of females, confiscation of property."
Exile.
She would live.
To remember.
Prince Yang leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "If you had been more useful, perhaps things would have ended differently."
Xiao Shui stared at him.
Then she smiled.
It was the first time Prince Yang felt uneasy.
"If there is a next life," she said, her voice calm as still water, "I will never marry you."
A blade flashed.
Pain exploded through her chest.
As her body collapsed into the snow, the sky above seemed to tilt. Her blood soaked into the ground of the empire she had once dreamed of ruling beside him.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
—
Xiao Shui opened her eyes.
Warmth. Silk beneath her fingers. The faint scent of sandalwood.
She sat up abruptly.
The room was bright. Unbroken. Alive.
Her hands were unchained.
Across the room, a maid gasped. "Miss! You're awake? The imperial selection begins in three days!"
Xiao Shui's breath caught.
Three days.
Before she married Prince Yang.
Before her family died.
Before the empire burned.
She lowered her gaze to her unblemished hands, her heartbeat pounding like war drums.
"This time," she whispered, "I will change everything."
Outside her window, the palace bells rang.
And somewhere in the capital, fate shifted its course.