The spar was over.

Samaya lay on the ground for a moment longer, staring up at the man who had so easily pinned her down. His weight pressed into her wrists, though not painfully, and his intense gaze lingered. She could feel his breath brushing against her face, sending an unbidden shiver down her spine.

“If you’re finished staring, Your Majesty,” she finally muttered, voice dry but tinged with exhaustion, “may I get up?”

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward in an almost smile before he released her wrists and stood, brushing dirt and straw from his robes. He extended a hand toward her, but Samaya ignored it, pushing herself up on her own. Her pride demanded as much, though her body screamed in protest.

She managed to stand, shaky but upright and took a step forward. Or at least, she tried to. Her legs trembled, then buckled beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground with an unceremonious thud. Pain flared in her knees and palms as they hit the hard earth.

“Damn it,” she hissed, trying again to push herself up. Her arms shook, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She’d overexerted herself, she realized belatedly, her illness having left her weaker than she cared to admit. Though she had recovered, the lingering weakness remained. She had not allowed herself time to recover from that due to her constant visits to the training field and the sleepless nights. She cursed her own stubbornness and pride.

Adrenaline had been the only thing keeping her going against the man. Now that the spar was over, her body gave away as easily as a house of cards.

“Lady Qing.” The Emperor’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of her thoughts. She didn’t look up, focusing instead on trying to regain her footing, but she heard him approach.

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, her tone clipped. “I don’t need your help.”

The next thing she knew, strong arms were lifting her off the ground. She gasped softly, her protest dying in her throat as the Emperor scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. His grip was steady and firm, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back.

“Put me down,” she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

“Be still,” he replied, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re in no condition to walk.”

Samaya’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. She struggled weakly against his hold, but her body betrayed her, limp and uncooperative. “I said, put me—”

“Don’t make Us drop you,” he interrupted, his gaze flicking down to meet hers. The slight edge to his voice silenced her, though her glare could have cut steel.

As they crossed the training grounds, Samaya became painfully aware of the whispers and murmurs around them. Her head turned slightly, and she realized they had an audience. And quite the audience. Servants, eunuchs, and guards lingered at the edges of the field, their eyes wide with barely concealed astonishment. Some appeared shocked, others curious, and a few exchanged knowing glances. Samaya was sure she saw some servants of Tianfengong. Beyond that, some low-ranking concubines from the nearby Tianengong - the Palace of Heavenly Favor, where the lowest-ranking concubines chosen by or for the Emperor stayed - whispered among each other. were those Ai and Mei? What on earth were they doing here?

Her humiliation deepened, and she clenched her jaw. The news of her sparring with the Emperor and then being carried by him was sure to spread like wildfire within the hour. “You’re making a scene,” she hissed under her breath.

“You think they wouldn’t have noticed if We left you to crawl back to your chambers?” he replied evenly, his gaze fixed ahead. “This is preferable.”

“For you, maybe,” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to salvage what little dignity she had left.

When they reached the steps leading to her chambers, the Emperor didn’t hesitate, carrying her up without pause. Ah-Liu was already waiting at the entrance, his expression shifting from concern to alarm as he took in the sight before him.

“Ji … my lady!” he exclaimed, hurrying forward. “What happened?”

“She overexerted herself,” the Emperor answered before Samaya could respond. “Summon a physician.”

“I don’t need a physician,” Samaya insisted, her tone brittle with fatigue.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The Emperor ignored her protest, carrying her inside and placing her gently on the nearest chaise. Samaya’s maids, Su and Min, appeared moments later, their faces pale with worry. They moved quickly, bringing water and clothes to clean her scraped hands and bruised knees.

“That will be all,” the Emperor said, his tone dismissive. Su and Min hesitated, glancing at Samaya for confirmation before bowing and retreating.

Ah-Liu lingered, earning a pointed look from the Emperor. “I believe I gave you an order, Eunuch.”

“Go,” Samaya said with a sigh, waving him off. He left reluctantly, casting one last worried glance over his shoulder.

Once they were alone, the Emperor folded his arms across his chest, studying her with an inscrutable expression.

“You’re reckless,” he said finally. “And stubborn.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she retorted, leaning back against the chaise.

His gaze softened, just enough for her to notice. “You should take better care of yourself. Your body is not invincible, Lady Qing.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Do you think I want to be like this? Weak? Helpless?”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You are neither weak nor helpless. But you cannot fight battles if you destroy yourself first.”

Samaya opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss for words. She hated that he was right, hated that his concern felt genuine. She looked away, her hands curling into fists in her lap.

The emperor stood at the edge of the room, his gaze heavy on her. The silence stretched until he spoke, his voice unusually soft. “You need to stop punishing yourself for Rin’s death.”

Samaya’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not—”

“You are,” the Emperor cut her off.

She stared at him for a long moment before scoffing and looking away. “You are being ridiculous, Your Majesty.”

“Am I?” He asked, stepping closer and leaning down. His expression was unreadable, but his tone carried the weight of certainty. “Not allowing yourself to recover, beating away at straw dummies until it hurts to breathe, spending sleepless nights walking around the courtyard … I know self-loathing when I see it, Ya’er.”

She gritted her teeth, hating the fact that he saw through her so easily and hating that name he called her.

“Is that so?” She asked, unable to hide the tinge of ridicule in her voice.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “It is so.” He tilted his head. “It is an expression We used to see in the mirror every day, for quite a long time.”

The words hung in the air, cutting through Samaya’s defenses. She looked away, her fingers curling tightly in her lap. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then, her voice broke the stillness, quiet and raw. “You were right.”

It hurt to admit that, her chest burned at the memories of Rin’s screams and scorched flesh, but she pressed on. “I shouldn’t have rushed into the court so recklessly. I should not have targeted the Kangs so openly. Kang Yanxin was a second son, a spare. I thought I could help Rin get her justice, help her see that monster pay the price for what he did to her.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. Her eyes burned and her throat itched, a familiar feeling, and it took everything in her not to break down. “But Rin paid for my arrogance.”

The Emperor’s gaze softened, though his posture remained firm. “What has passed is beyond your grasp now, Ya’er. Dwelling on it changes nothing. You must look forward, not back.”

The words stung. She clenched her hands so hard that her nails dug into her skin. “That is easier said than done. Rin is dead because of me and the man who hurt her is still roaming, even after killing a damn maid inside the Palace!”

“Careful, Lady Qing.” The man’s voice had hardened again. “Even the walls have ears here. You must speak carefully.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled softly. He was right. She needed to calm the fuck down. Her plan was going well, she did not need to be so wrung tight all the time. Those were the words she had once told her own maids. It was embarrassing to be reminded of them.

“The Kangs are powerful,” the man continued. “There cannot be a proper proceeding or even investigation against them. Unless there is proof.”

She blinked up at the man for a long moment as she came to a realization. “You want there to be proof.”

It was a statement. The Emperor did not deny it.

The man sighed softly and gently put a hand on Samaya’s head. “You should rest, Ya’er.”

As the Emperor turned to leave, she hesitated, then called after him. “Wait.”

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

Samaya reached into the drawer beside her bed, producing a folded piece of paper from a small compartment that she had carved into place. She held it out to him. “This,” she said quietly. “I found it on the maid. The note … does the calligraphy look familiar?” She asked softly.

The Emperor took the note from her, unfolding it with care. His eyes scanned the contents, his expression unreadable.

Samaya continued speaking. “A suicide, the dead connected to the Kangs somehow, a note with similar calligraphy. One of them connected to an attack on the Imperial Prince, and the other connected to an attack on one of the Emperor’s women. Is this enough to open an investigation?”

After a moment of deliberation, he looked back at her. “Do you trust Us with this?”

Her lips twitched in the ghost of a bitter smile. “I’m trying to find out.”

The Emperor studied her for a moment longer, then nodded, his voice low but resolute. “We will see what we can do.”

He left without another word, the note clutched tightly in his hand, leaving Samaya alone in the room, the weight of their conversation pressing heavily on her chest.