In January of year 10013 of the Yulan Calendar, news from the Yulan Empire's imperial palace was, as always, the barometer of the capital's noble circles.
The empress had been chosen-it was not Delia Ryan.
The news reached the Ryan Clan in the afternoon. Winter sunlight slanted into the study, and the shadows of the window lattice fell across the floor like gashes.
Deya Ryan sat behind his desk, his face dark and grim. The footsteps of passing maids came from outside the window, only making the deathly silence in the study more pronounced.
Bang!
A fist slammed onto the desk. Drops of ink splashed from the inkstone onto the snow-white rice paper, spreading into irregular stains. Veins bulged on the back of Deya's hand, and his fingertips trembled slightly.
"Are you satisfied now?"
Deya raised his head and stared straight at his daughter, who stood in the middle of the study. His voice held barely suppressed anger and resentment. Each word seemed to squeeze through his teeth. "The empress has been chosen! You can go find that Linley now!"
He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Hmph... is being a Saint's wife necessarily better than being empress?"
Only the breathing of the three family members could be heard in the study.
Delia stood there, with her mother nearby, a slanting beam of sunset between them. The light divided Delia's profile into two halves, one illuminated, the other hidden in shadow.
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Delia spoke.
"Father, are you still the father you used to be?"
Delia's voice was slightly hoarse, and her eyes had reddened. Her hands hung at her sides, her fingertips pressing lightly into her palms.
Deya Ryan froze.
So did his wife.
"Father, I love Linley very much. But it isn't because he's a