Just three days after the Emperor's public dispy of favor, Mia was awakened before dawn by pounding on her door. She had barely risen from her bed when the entrance burst open, revealing Lady Chen fnked by four pace guards.

  "Concubine Song," Lady Chen announced, her voice hard with satisfaction, "you are ordered to appear before the Imperial Tribunal immediately."

  "Tribunal?" Mia clutched her sleeping robe tighter. "What accusation—"

  "Silence!" Lady Chen snapped. "You will be informed of your crimes at the tribunal. Come now, or be dragged."

  Peony had appeared from her small adjoining room, eyes wide with terror. "Please, let me help my mistress dress properly—"

  "There is no time," Lady Chen cut in. "The tribunal convenes at the Emperor's command and cannot be deyed."

  This detail made Mia pause. The Emperor's command? Something was wrong. Jin-Wei would never—

  Before she could complete the thought, two guards seized her arms. A third bound her wrists with coarse rope, the rough fibers biting into her skin.

  "This is unnecessary," Mia protested. "I will come willingly."

  Lady Chen's thin smile held no warmth. "Traitors are afforded no courtesy."

  Traitor? The accusation was so unexpected that Mia fell silent as they marched her through the concubine quarters. Women emerged from their chambers to witness her disgrace, whispers trailing in her wake. Noble Lady Zhao stood watching, satisfaction evident in her smirk.

  The Hall of Supreme Harmony, normally reserved for the grandest imperial ceremonies, had been transformed for the tribunal. Three carved chairs on the elevated ptform were occupied by stern-faced officials in formal robes. To the side sat the Empress, resplendent in imperial regalia, her expression one of grave concern that didn't reach her cold eyes.

  The Emperor's throne, conspicuously, was empty.

  Mia was forced to her knees on the stone floor before the tribunal. Her thin sleeping robe provided little protection against the chill of early morning, and she struggled to maintain her composure as she surveyed the assembled officials and witnesses.

  "The Imperial Tribunal is convened by special decree to address crimes against the throne," announced the central judge, an elderly man Mia recognized as Minister Wang Tao—the Empress's uncle. "Bring forth the evidence."

  A pace guard approached, carrying a cquered box which he presented to the tribunal with reverence. Minister Wang opened it carefully and removed a folded paper.

  "This document was discovered hidden among the books recently delivered to Concubine Song," he decred. "It contains detailed information about pace defenses, guard rotations, and the Emperor's schedule—information that could only be intended for those who wish harm upon His Imperial Majesty."

  Gasps rippled through the assembled witnesses. Mia stared in disbelief.

  "That's impossible," she protested. "I have no such document. The books were sent directly from His Majesty!"

  "Silence!" thundered Minister Wang. "The evidence was discovered by loyal servants during a routine inspection. Furthermore, investigation has revealed communication between the accused and known enemies of the throne."

  He produced another document. "This letter, in the accused's hand, was intercepted being smuggled from the pace to associates of her disgraced father—men who have been plotting against the imperial family for years."

  Mia's mind raced. Both documents were obvious forgeries, but expertly crafted. The Empress had pnned this meticulously, timing it precisely when the Emperor would be unable to intervene.

  "Where is His Majesty?" Mia demanded. "He would never allow this false accusation!"

  Minister Wang's face darkened. "His Imperial Majesty is in private meditation at the Temple of Heavenly Peace, as is customary before the Dragon Boat Festival. He has been informed of your treachery and has authorized this tribunal to proceed in his absence."

  Another lie. The Emperor had given her no warning of any temple retreat in his message. This was the Empress's doing—isoting Jin-Wei while she moved against Mia.

  "I demand to see His Majesty," Mia insisted. "These accusations are fabricated!"

  "The Emperor's heart is troubled by your betrayal," the Empress interjected, her voice carrying perfect notes of sorrow and disappointment. "He trusted you, elevated you from nothing, and this is how you repay imperial favor—by plotting with traitors against the throne."

  Mia turned toward her accuser. "Your Majesty knows these charges are false."

  "I know that my husband was blinded by whatever spell you cast upon him," the Empress replied coldly. "Fortunately, the plot was discovered before harm could come to him."

  Minister Wang cleared his throat. "The evidence is conclusive. Concubine Song has conspired with enemies of the throne and betrayed His Majesty's trust. The penalty for such treason is death."

  Though she had expected it, the pronouncement still sent ice through Mia's veins. The Empress had moved more decisively than anticipated, fabricating not just a minor offense but a capital crime.

  "However," Minister Wang continued, "in recognition of His Majesty's former favor, and at the compassionate urging of Her Imperial Majesty, the sentence is commuted to permanent confinement in the Cold Pace, with no possibility of imperial visitation or pardon."

  The Cold Pace. Even hardened criminals feared that fate more than a clean execution. Located at the furthermost northern corner of the Imperial City, it was where concubines who had committed grave offenses were sent to live out their days in isotion and deprivation—forgotten, but kept alive as a cruel mercy.

  "The Empress is most merciful," Minister Wang decred, bowing toward her. "Let it be recorded that justice has been tempered with compassion."

  The Empress inclined her head graciously, the perfect image of reluctant duty. "While my heart grieves for my husband's disappointment, we cannot allow sentiment to endanger the throne. Take her away."

  As the guards yanked Mia to her feet, she caught the Empress's gaze. For a brief moment, the mask slipped, revealing naked triumph in those beautiful, cold eyes. This was no mere punishment—it was a decisive move to eliminate Mia permanently from the game of power.

  "His Majesty will learn the truth," Mia said quietly, for the Empress's ears alone.

  "By the time he returns from his 'spiritual retreat,' you will be nothing but a regrettable memory," the Empress replied, her voice equally soft. "The Cold Pace has a way of erasing people from the world. Even emperors eventually forget those sent there."

  The journey to the Cold Pace was deliberately humiliating. Bound and dressed only in her thin night clothes, Mia was paraded through public areas of the pace where servants and officials could witness her disgrace. By midday, when they finally reached the isoted northern complex, she was exhausted, hungry, and struggling to maintain her composure.

  The Cold Pace belied its name. While the regur pace was cool and pleasant even in summer, this neglected complex trapped heat like an oven. Built centuries earlier as quarters for imperial retives, it had fallen into disrepair, with crumbling walls, overgrown courtyards, and stagnant ponds thick with mosquitoes.

  "Your new home, traitor," announced the captain of the guard as they stopped before a dipidated building. "These quarters are more than a conspirator deserves."

  The structure might once have been beautiful, but years of neglect had left it barely habitable. The roof sagged dangerously, the wooden floors were warped, and the windows were covered with paper rather than proper screens.

  Inside was no better—a single room with a straw mat for sleeping, a cracked chamber pot, and a low table missing one leg. A barrel of water and a small sack of rice sat in the corner, the sole provisions for her survival.

  "Food and water will be replenished once every ten days," the guard informed her as he cut the ropes binding her wrists. "Try to escape, and the next meal won't come at all."

  "Does the Emperor know where I've been taken?" Mia asked, rubbing her raw wrists.

  The guard ughed harshly. "The Emperor has forgotten your name already, woman. No one comes back from the Cold Pace."

  After the guards departed, Mia explored her prison. The complex housed twelve simir structures scattered across overgrown grounds, all in various states of decay. From two of them, she glimpsed hollow-eyed women watching her through cracked doors—other forgotten prisoners of imperial disfavor.

  Her own quarters were secure despite their disrepair. The door had been reinforced with new locks, and the courtyard wall, while crumbling in pces, was topped with freshly installed spikes. Even if she managed to leave her quarters, the entire Cold Pace was surrounded by a high wall patrolled by guards specifically tasked with ensuring no one escaped.

  As evening approached, the heat of the day gave way to unexpected chill—the reason for the complex's name becoming apparent. Without proper insution or heating, the neglected buildings offered little protection against the night air.

  Mia wrapped herself in the thin bnket provided and huddled in the corner of her room. In her inventory, the silver locket containing the three fragments of Noir's soul pulsed with unusual intensity, as if responding to her distress.

  "I know you're there," she whispered to the empty room. "I haven't forgotten our purpose."

  But as darkness fell and the sounds of the pace—so distant now—faded into silence, Mia found herself fighting against despair. The Empress had outmaneuvered them, separating her from Jin-Wei at a critical moment and fabricating charges serious enough to justify permanent isotion.

  Even if the Emperor discovered the truth, how long would it take? The Grand Chancellor was returning, the Wang family consolidating power. Every day she remained here was a day the Emperor faced his enemies alone, without her guidance or support.

  A rustling outside her window interrupted her thoughts. Mia tensed, ready to defend herself against whatever night creature had found its way into her quarters. Instead, she heard a soft scratching, followed by an even softer voice.

  "Concubine Song? Are you there?"

  Mia approached the window cautiously. "Who asks?"

  "A friend. Or rather, a friend of a friend who watches with distant eyes."

  The cipher. This was one of the Emperor's Eyes.

  "I'm here," she confirmed.

  A small package slipped through the tear in the window paper, followed by a whispered message: "His Majesty was drugged during his morning tea and taken forcibly to the temple. He has only just regained consciousness and learned of your fate. The Eyes are gathering evidence of your innocence, but it will take time. Until then, you must survive."

  "Tell him I'm well," Mia whispered back, not wanting her mysterious visitor to report her true condition.

  "He sends this to sustain you. We will return when we can, but the Cold Pace is heavily watched. Be cautious."

  With that, the presence disappeared into the darkness, leaving Mia clutching the small package. Inside she found dried meat, fruit, a small fsk of clean water, and most precious of all, a tiny scrap of paper bearing Jin-Wei's handwriting:

  The plum blossom endures winter's cruelty. I have not forgotten. Wait for me.

  Mia pressed the note to her heart, new determination repcing her earlier despair. The Empress believed she had won by isoting Mia in this forgotten corner of the pace. She didn't realize that Jin-Wei had awakened more fully to his power—and to their connection—than in any previous world.

  "I'll wait," she whispered to the night. "As I've waited across lifetimes before."

  Days in the Cold Pace blurred together in a monotonous rhythm of survival. The summer heat intensified, turning Mia's quarters into an oven during daylight hours. Without proper ventition, the air grew stifling, thick with dust and the smell of decay. At night, strange noises echoed through the abandoned complex—the scurrying of rats, the calls of night birds, and occasionally, the weeping of other prisoners.

  On the third day, Mia ventured out to meet her fellow captives. Most were too broken by their confinement to risk conversation, but one—an elderly woman who introduced herself as Lady Wei—offered guarded friendship.

  "I was the second wife of Minister Wei before he fell from favor twenty years ago," she expined as they sat in the shadow of a crumbling wall. "The Empress of that time feared I knew too many court secrets, so here I remain, long after my husband's execution."

  "Twenty years?" Mia couldn't mask her horror. "With no contact from the outside world?"

  Lady Wei's ugh was hollow. "Oh, the isotion is not complete. Guards bring provisions. Occasionally a court official visits to question me about ancient scandals. But freedom? No, that dream died long ago."

  "The current Emperor wouldn't allow such injustice if he knew," Mia said.

  "Emperors come and go, but the Cold Pace remains," Lady Wei replied. "We are the empire's inconvenient memories, easier forgotten than acknowledged."

  Her words haunted Mia through the long days that followed. Would Jin-Wei's promise hold? Or would the Empress's machinations eventually force him to abandon her as previous emperors had abandoned Lady Wei and the others?

  On the tenth day, as promised, guards brought fresh provisions—meager rations of rice, dried beans, and water barely sufficient to sustain life. That night, one of the Emperor's Eyes returned, bringing another small package and news from the pace.

  "The Grand Chancellor has arrived with a rge military escort," the spy whispered through the window. "He cims they are needed for the Dragon Boat Festival security, but many believe he pns to solidify the Wang family's control over the throne."

  "And the Emperor?" Mia asked urgently.

  "He has returned from the temple but moves cautiously. The Empress watches him closely, and many officials who might support him have been sent to distant assignments. He searches for proof of your innocence, but the forgeries were expertly crafted."

  The news was grim, but the package contained treasures—clean undergarments, a small knife concealed in a hairpin, medicine for the rash that had developed on Mia's arms from the heat, and another note:

  The Dragon Seals are ready. The lotus blooms in three days. Be prepared to walk through fire.

  Three days. Whatever Jin-Wei pnned would happen soon—during the Dragon Boat Festival, when the court would be gathered and the Grand Chancellor's forces would be positioned throughout the pace. It was both the most dangerous and the most opportune moment to act.

  But what did he expect her to do from within the Cold Pace? Even with the knife, she could hardly fight her way past armed guards. And "walk through fire"—was that metaphorical, or a literal warning of what was to come?

  The answer arrived unexpectedly the following day, when Lady Wei appeared at Mia's door with unusual urgency.

  "Come quickly," the old woman hissed. "There's something you must see."

  She led Mia to a section of the Cold Pace that appeared completely abandoned, the structures so deteriorated they seemed on the verge of colpse. Behind one such building, partially hidden by overgrown vegetation, was a small shrine dedicated to the kitchen god.

  "This was once the Cold Pace's kitchen, back when more prisoners lived here and were provided proper meals," Lady Wei expined, pushing aside the rotting wood of the shrine. "The cooks maintained this shrine for good fortune. But more importantly, they built this."

  She revealed a narrow tunnel just rge enough for a person to crawl through, hidden beneath the shrine's ptform.

  "It leads beyond the Cold Pace walls," Lady Wei whispered. "Built generations ago by a sympathetic cook who fell in love with one of the confined concubines. I discovered it ten years into my imprisonment, but..." She gestured to her frail body. "I was already too old, with nowhere to go if I escaped."

  Mia stared at the dark passage in disbelief. "Why show me this now?"

  Lady Wei's eyes held an unreadable expression. "Because st night, for the first time in twenty years, someone left a message at this shrine." She handed Mia a scrap of silk bearing a crudely drawn lotus flower. "It matches the embroidery on your night clothes—the ones you wore when they brought you here. I believe someone is sending you a sign."

  The lotus. Jin-Wei had written The lotus blooms in three days. This tunnel was her way out—her path through the metaphorical fire of escape and its dangers.

  "Lady Wei..." Mia began, uncertain how to express her gratitude.

  The old woman shook her head. "I've watched many women die slowly in this pce, their spirits broken long before their bodies. You still have fire in your eyes. Use this chance, and perhaps remember an old woman when you're free."

  Mia embraced her, this unexpected ally in the most hopeless of pces. "I promise, when this is over, I'll come back for you."

  Lady Wei's smile was sad. "Live your life first, child. Then worry about old ghosts like me."

  That night, Mia meticulously prepared for escape, hiding small amounts of food in a pouch made from torn clothing, fashioning a crude torch from wood splinters and oil from her mp, and tying back her hair with the knife-pin easily accessible. Whatever awaited her beyond the tunnel, she would be ready.

  Two more days passed in agonizing slowness. On what would be her final night in the Cold Pace, Mia couldn't sleep, her mind racing with questions and fears. What if the tunnel had colpsed? What if guards waited at the other end? What if Jin-Wei's pn had already failed?

  In the darkest hour before dawn, as she finally drifted into restless sleep, a tremendous crash jolted her awake. Outside, shouts and the sound of running feet filled the night air. Through her window, an orange glow illuminated the sky.

  Fire. Not metaphorical, but real—consuming the outermost buildings of the Cold Pace complex.

  Guards rushed past her quarters, focused on the bze that was spreading with unnatural speed, driven by the summer-dry wood of the ancient structures. Prisoners emerged from their quarters in panic, creating chaos that drew the guards' attention away from the perimeter.

  This was it—her signal, her chance. Amid the confusion, Mia slipped out and made her way to the kitchen shrine. The fire was spreading rapidly, but still concentrated on the opposite side of the complex. Soon, however, the entire Cold Pace would be engulfed.

  Walk through fire, Jin-Wei had written. Now she understood.

  The tunnel entrance was just as Lady Wei had shown her, obscured by vegetation but accessible. Without hesitation, Mia dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the darkness, the sounds of shouting and crackling fmes fading behind her.

  The passage was longer than she had expected, twisting beneath the Cold Pace walls for what felt like an eternity. Dirt crumbled from the ceiling, threatening colpse with each movement. Several times she had to dig through partial cave-ins, her hands bleeding from the effort.

  Just as her strength began to fade, a faint glimmer of pre-dawn light appeared ahead. With renewed determination, Mia pushed forward, finally emerging into the underbrush beyond the Cold Pace walls.

  She had barely caught her breath when a hand cmped over her mouth. She reached for her knife, but a familiar voice stopped her.

  "The moon reflects the sun even in darkness," Fei whispered, the recognition phrase of the Emperor's Eyes.

  Mia rexed slightly. "As winter plum blossoms endure the frost," she completed the code.

  Fei released her and gestured urgently toward a covered cart waiting some distance away. "Quickly. The fire was our diversion, but it won't occupy the guards for long."

  As they hurried toward the cart, Mia gnced back at the Cold Pace. Fmes now engulfed nearly half the complex, lighting the night sky with hellish orange. Even from this distance, she could hear the shouts of guards and the screams of prisoners.

  "Lady Wei," she gasped, stopping suddenly. "There's an old woman still inside—"

  "Already taken care of," Fei assured her. "All prisoners were evacuated before the fire was set. They've been moved to the temple complex under guard, ostensibly for their safety."

  Relief flooded through her as they reached the cart. Inside, clean clothes, water, and food awaited her.

  "Change quickly," Fei instructed. "We must reach the pace before dawn. The Dragon Boat Festival begins today, and with it, the Emperor's move against the Wang family. Your presence is essential."

  As the cart rumbled toward the main pace complex, Mia changed into the clothes provided—not the robes of a concubine, but the practical garments of a pace servant, perfect for moving unnoticed through the crowded festival preparations.

  "How is His Majesty?" she asked as she braided her hair in the simple style of a working woman.

  Fei's expression grew somber. "Fighting for his throne—and possibly his life. The Grand Chancellor has brought over two hundred armed men into the pace under the guise of festival security. Many believe a coup is imminent."

  "And my alleged treason?"

  "We've identified the forger who created the false documents, but he died mysteriously before we could extract a confession. Without proof of your innocence, the Emperor can't officially pardon you without creating a rift with the Empress that the Wang family would exploit immediately."

  Mia nodded, understanding the precarious bance Jin-Wei was navigating. "Then I remain a fugitive."

  "For now," Fei agreed. "But the Emperor has the Dragon Seals—the ultimate symbol of imperial authority that even the Grand Chancellor cannot challenge. He pns to use them today, during the festival, when all court officials will be present to witness."

  The cart passed through a side gate of the pace, the guards waving it through with barely a gnce at the festival supplier's seal it carried. As the first light of dawn touched the eastern sky, they stopped in a secluded courtyard where Fei helped Mia disembark.

  "The Emperor awaits you in the Cloud Pavilion behind the Ancestral Temple," he said. "From there, he will expin the role you must py in today's events."

  Mia touched the silver locket in her inventory, feeling the fragments pulse with unprecedented intensity. Today would determine not just her fate or Jin-Wei's, but the future of this entire world.

  "I'm ready," she said, straightening her servant's robes. "Let's finish what we started."