Chapter 75
ALEXANDER
JingYi’s request for an audience with Emperor ShunLi was granted that same afternoon. They arrived at the Hall of Serenity, walking across the vast space to stand before the emperor’s throne once again. Nobles lined the edges of the chamber, silks whispering as they turned collectively.
He walked a half-step behind her, every instinct urging him closer, but he knew this was her stage. Still, he felt the weight of each gaze upon him—a foreign Alpha in the heart of an empire that hadn’t wanted him there.
Unfortunate for them: he was here for her.
From the ranks of the nobility, he caught a glimpse of High Princess LinXin. Her gaze met JingYi’s for a fleeting moment—a silent, steadying exchange. Then his wife’s eyes returned forward as if nothing happened, and he followed.
Twenty steps from the throne, JingYi stopped. She lowered herself to her knees and paid respects to the emperor; he did the same.
“May a thousand years of peace grace His Majesty the Emperor,” she greeted in Isseric.
“Rise, Shō Meisha.”
Alexander helped her to her feet and stepped back.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “I stand before you today to seek justice for a wound that has lingered for months, though I have not until now found the courage to speak.”
ShunLi leaned forward. “Speak. The court will hear your grievance.”
“When I was sent to Tremore by the late emperor, I was not sent alone. Three ladies of my father’s choosing were appointed to accompany me: MeiYün, daughter of Minister Liang of the Treasury; RenHuā, daughter of Lord Chao of the Imperial Academy; and LánYàn, daughter of General Han of the Defence Ministry. ”
A murmur swept the court—recognition, surprise, unease. From the corner of his eye, Alexander spotted a man in full armour sitting rigidly, fists on his knees. He’d wager the other two fathers were nearby.
“They were meant to guard my honour, to serve as my hands and voice in a foreign land,” JingYi continued. “Instead, when Omega traders descended upon us, they calculated my life was worthless. They pushed me from the carriage to save themselves, putting me straight into the path of danger.”
She turned to Alexander. “If it weren’t for Lord Wulfbane and his men, they would have succeeded.”
He laced his fingers with hers. The memory still burned—JingYi stranded outside the carriage, greedy hands closing in before his axe struck. The fury had only sharpened with time.
Before the emperor could respond, the three fathers rushed forward, each speaking for his daughter.
“Your Majesty, my MeiYün is gentle—”
“My LánYàn would never—”
“Trauma can confuse the memory—”
A hot wave of fury consumed him. His hand twitched against hers. He opened his mouth to speak, but her fingers pressed his—a silent request to let her lead. He stilled. Her gaze remained fixed on her brother. She waited until the fathers’ voices faded into anxious silence.
“There is no confusion,” she said, each word measured, even as he detected her rapid pulse where he touched her wrist. She was a fortress, but he knew the cost of holding the walls.
“I was pushed by Lady LánYàn. I saw Lady RenHuā’s face as she slammed the carriage door. I heard Lady MeiYün’s voice urging the driver to flee. These are not phantoms of trauma.”
She finally turned, her eyes sweeping over the three powerful men. Even under duress, she remained serene, her gaze holding no malice—only unshakeable truth.
“You describe a theory of their virtue. I present the evidence of their deeds, and I do not stand alone.”
She glanced at him, a cue. Now, every eye was upon him. He met the emperor’s gaze.
“Your Majesty, it was a staged abandonment. The High Princess was thrown into the attackers’ path; the carriage door was bolted against her. I investigated that same night. Three of my sworn knights witnessed the shove.”
He turned to the three fathers. “If you dismiss foreign testimony, consider what followed. These women complained of pouring her tea, insulted her lineage to her face. Their contempt was so profound that I, a stranger to your court, saw it plainly. To spare the princess their daily poison, I barred them from my hall and sent them home. The crime itself I leave for this court to judge.”
A tense silence followed. The three ministers looked struck. The court held its breath. ShunLi’s gaze, cool and impenetrable, remained on JingYi.
“This is a grave accusation,” he said. “It requires the testimony of the accused.” To the captain of his Imperial Guard, he ordered, “Fetch them.”
The court stood in agonizing silence—broken only by the rustle of silk and the shallow breathing of the three ministers.
Then the great doors swung open. The guard returned, escorting the three women.
To Alexander, they resembled fragile painted dolls—fine silks and elaborate hair stark against the unforgiving court.
He saw the instant they comprehended their peril: eyes darting from the emperor to their terrified fathers, and finally to JingYi.
When the women knelt, Emperor ShunLi let the silence press down. Alexander recognized the tactic—an interrogator’s trick, letting fear do the work.
When the emperor spoke, his voice was a low pronouncement. “You are charged with sacrificing the High Princess to bandits in Tremore. What do you say?”
LánYàn found her voice first. “Your Majesty, a tragic misunderstanding—the Princess must have fallen. We only sought to survive and raise the alarm.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened. Lies.
ShunLi turned to MeiYün. “And you?”
“I saw little—the carriage was dark—we were pulling her back when the door gave way—”
“It did not give way,” ShunLi said, voice hardening. “She was pushed. The High Princess said it. Lord Wulfbane’s men saw it.”
The colour drained from MeiYün’s face. She looked frantically at LánYàn—a silent plea for a unified story that would never come.
It was RenHuā who broke first. “We were afraid! We thought they would take her and leave the rest!”
The court erupted. ShunLi silenced them with a look. “I see. Your solution was to offer the High Princess to traders?”
“No! I never touched her!” RenHuā pointed a trembling finger at LánYàn. “She pushed her!”
“You lying viper! You said we’d be safer without her!”
“And you agreed!” MeiYün shrieked. “You said your father would protect us!”
Alexander watched, mesmerized and disgusted, as their alliance crumbled.
Then a new voice cut through, calm and clear.
“But you’ve always been that way, haven’t you?”
All heads turned. High Princess LinXin stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the emperor.
“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice resonating in the hushed hall. “Today’s crime is not an anomaly. Their cruelty is a practice honed over years within these palace walls.”
She turned her cool gaze upon the trio. “I have witnessed it since childhood. The whispers about the High Princess’s birth.
The ‘accidental’ ruin of her belongings.
I saw Lady LánYàn trip our sister during the dysentery outbreak—vials of medicine she’d formulated herself shattered on the stones.
Precious resources, wasted for petty amusement. ”
LinXin looked back to the throne. “Tremore was merely the final, logical extension of a lifetime of impunity. Their guilt is not for a single act, but for a lifetime of them.”
She descended into a formal kneel. “May Your Majesty punish them accordingly.”
A profound silence followed. A soldier’s testimony was one thing. A High Princess’s was the final, unassailable truth.
“The grievance is yours, Shō Meisha,” the emperor said. “What punishment do you ask?”
Alexander felt the shift in JingYi before he saw it. Her voice, when it came, was not loud but absolute. A blade of ice.
“The law is clear, Your Majesty. The punishment for treason is death.” A collective gasp rippled through the court. “They calculated my life was worthless. I ask you to answer them with a logical conclusion. I ask for their lives.”
The effect was instantaneous. One lady crumpled in a dead faint. The other two broke into ragged sobs. The fathers fell to their knees, voices rising in desperate chorus.
“Your Majesty, I beg you!”
“Please have mercy!”
“She is my only child!”
Alexander watched, blood running cold at the steel in his wife’s voice.
He studied JingYi’s serene face and understood: she wasn’t asking for vengeance.
She was building a pyre to make mercy burn brighter.
His eyes found ShunLi next. A spark of amusement flickered across the emperor’s face before vanishing. He too had seen it.
Just as despair reached its peak, the Dowager Empress rose from her seat. Alexander expected a counterstrike. Instead, he saw something far more interesting: a look of stark, unmistakable approval.
“The High Princess is correct,” the Dowager declared. “By law, death is the only answer.”
She let the weight of those words settle, watching the fathers’ faces crumple further.
Then, with the precision of a master strategist, she continued, “But, we are architects of a dynasty. A life spared forges loyalty far stronger than fear. A debt of lifelong service is a greater asset than three graves.”
She turned to her son and curtsied. “I have spoken, but the choice is yours alone, Your Majesty.”
Alexander leaned down and whispered in JingYi’s ear. “It is done. The fox endorses the crow’s hunt.”
He straightened, watching the Dowager resume her seat. He’d be a fool to think the old enemy had become a friend. But she recognized the next best thing.
ShunLi let the silence stretch, giving JingYi a long, considering look. For a moment, Alexander thought he would call her bluff.
Then he leaned back and sighed.
“The law is clear. The price is your lives. But a ruler who knows only law is a tyrant.”
He stood, his presence filling the dais. “Your lives are forfeit to the throne. I choose to spend that currency not on graves, but on loyalty. Your families’ status, wealth, and your very lives are now conditional on one thing alone: absolute, unquestioning fealty to the Crown. Do you accept?”
The relief that washed over the three fathers was profound. They pressed their foreheads to the cold floor, weeping with gratitude.
“We accept, Your Majesty! Thank you!”
The guards led the weeping ladies away. ShunLi returned to his seat and addressed JingYi.
“I cannot grant your request, Shō Meisha. I pray you find it in your heart to accept this judgement.”
JingYi bowed. “Your Majesty’s wish is my wish.” Her face was serene, but Alexander felt the tension still coiled within her.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “There remains one further matter. An older wound—concerning the rot within this court and the safety of its Omegas.”
ShunLi’s eyes sharpened. He gave a single grim nod. “Speak.”
“The Alphas who attacked me when I was fourteen,” she said, voice clear without a trace of the terror she must have felt. “You stopped them, but a weed trimmed grows back stronger. They believed their status granted them the right to take what was not theirs. That belief still festers.”
A different tension filled the room.
“The time for leniency has passed,” ShunLi said, his voice dropping into a register that promised violence. “We are cutting out the rot so a new golden age can take root.”
He scanned the hall. “The days when an Alpha’s birthright excuses monstrous behaviour are over.
The sons of Houses Shèn, Lan, and Taō will be stripped of their names and titles.
Their families will disown them or share their fate.
They will be sent to the limyerite mines in the eastern provinces where their worthless existence will finally contribute to the glory of X?en-Sarai. ”
Alexander looked from the resolute emperor to Jing Yi. His hand reached for hers, their fingers entwining.The formalities that followed were a blur of bowed heads and retreating steps. Soon after, they stepped into the late afternoon sun of the courtyard.
“It’s over,” he said.
“It is,” she agreed.
He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close, feeling the last of the tremors leave her frame. “You carried this burden for so long. You can set it down now.”
She nuzzled into the hollow of his throat. “I feel hollowed out.”
The sun warmed them where they stood. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Hollow spaces can be filled with better things. Your next performance will have far more flowers and far fewer politics.”
She leaned back, and the smile touching her lips was the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day. “Our wedding. May it be the last performance I do for this court.”
“The court will expect a spectacle,” he said, knuckles brushing her cheek. “But for me, it is the moment the world sees what I already know: I am yours. You are mine. When I look at you, I won’t see an audience. I’ll only see you.”
The last of her weariness left, replaced by a tenderness in his chest. She reached up to pull him down, and their lips met.
In the wake of their kiss, the tension of the trial finally shattered, and in its place: a shared future, bright and certain.