Outside the window, autumn sunlight filtered through the carved lattice, casting mottled patterns across the floor. Those patches of light slowly shifted with the passing hours, like sand slipping through an hourglass, grain by grain. The Empress Dowager watched them with hollow, bewildered eyes. It was as though she could see her entire life—from an ordinary palace maid, to the Former King's favored consort, and then to the Empress Dowager who wielded immense power. How much bloodshed had she weathered, how many schemes and machinations had she played, to climb to where she stood today? She had believed she could sit in this chair forever and dictate the fate of the kingdom. But now, it was all over.
Before her lay a secret letter she had read countless times. She had obtained it through a clandestine channel on the eve of Carnford's army marching south. There were only a few lines on the page, yet they pierced her heart like the sharpest dagger—the Her Highness the Princess who had vanished so many years ago was indeed still alive. And she was in Carnford, in Karl's hands.
For years, she had believed that child was dead, lost amid the chaos of that palace coup all those years ago. She had thought she had pulled out the weeds by the roots and could sleep soundly at last. She had even fabricated a story, claiming that the princess had died young of illness to conceal her crimes. She had thought her work flawless, that she could bury this secret forever beneath the dust of history.
But Karl, that young man from the Northern Territory, had found her and kept her safe. More than that, he had used her as a bargaining chip, raised the banner of "Purge the traitors at the sovereign's side,