The palace guard downstairs recited his orders like a prayer: “His Majesty has decreed that no one is to approach the princess. Please leave at once.”
“Let her in!” Li Xinyue flipped the tangled braid that had been clawed at from her chest and fixed the guard with a stare that brooked no argument.
The man was the same soldier who had brought her breakfast that morning. He remembered the princess then—listless, forlorn—and now, seeing her suddenly upright and fierce, he blinked as if he were looking at a different person. For a long moment he hesitated, then, nervous, still refused entry.
Commander Xiao walked up and gave the man a solid smack on the back of the head that made him see stars. “Let them in.”
“But, Commander—His Majesty said—”
“In,” Xiao said, short and final.
Only then was Lian’er allowed to climb the stairs and enter the princess’s chambers.
When the door closed behind her, Lian’er breathed as if she’d been holding it for days. The flood of relief broke into sobs she could no longer hold back. “Princess, I worried all night you’d be left uncared for. Hongxiu kept saying there was no need—His Majesty will restore your title soon enough. But look at you now; without the title you can’t even sleep, you can’t eat. Even the gate guards bully you.”
Li Xinyue raised an anxious eyebrow. If Lian’er knew the truth about last night—how well she had been tended—she would drop her jaw. But the memory of that night burned with a different heat now: the man in those memories would soon belong to someone else. A sour guilt and a strange, quiet resolve hollowed her out.
Letting go didn’t mean she loved him less. It was simply that she couldn’t be the weight that dragged him down. Better he attach himself to Li Xinrong—legitimate, supported by the Lin family and the Crown Prince—than be stuck with a deposed, nameless lover. He deserved a future; he deserved honor.
“Lian’er,” she said, voice small but steady, “go tell Hongxiu to find Murong Jia and ask if she’ll lend us her grace. If she agrees, whatever she asks one day, I—Princess Yuanyang—will do my utmost to repay it.”
Lian’er saw the gravity on Li Xinyue’s face and understood instinctively that this was not a trivial request. Back in the servants’ quarters the news traveled slowly; they didn’t yet know the court had decided to marry the princess off. But Hongxiu’s visit to the Murong household had changed everything—Lian’er had only to ask, and Hongxiu came back with word.
Left alone, Li Xinyue curled against the pillows and folded her legs beneath her chin. Waiting made her feel like prey caught in a trap; she hated the helplessness. Even if Murong Jia would lend the grace, what if the emperor had already signed the marriage edict? What if something went wrong on the way? Her chest tightened as she pictured Chu Junyi’s face—remembered the way he’d pinched her chin and forced her into entanglement. That brief arrogance of his—“Chu Junyi is the only one who could match someone like His Highness”—made her cheeks burn with a shame that also stirred her heart.
“Chu Junyi,” she whispered with closed eyes, and the name made her pulse thrum like a distant drum.
Outside, the sun battered the streets in merciless heat. Chu Junyi strode from the palace gate, jaw hard, mind like a cauldron. The imperial edict granting the marriage had hit him like a stone. He’d planned to borrow Murong Jia’s favor to ask the emperor to have Princess Yuanyang married to him—he had thought that would close everything honorably. Instead the emperor had offered him to the Fourteenth Princess first and, worse, was likely to send Yuanyang west in a political match.
If that happened, all he could do was borrow the favor now to beg the emperor to restore Yuanyang’s status and exile her to a fief where she could live out her days and never return to the capital. As for him and Yuanyang—
Chu Junyi’s steps faltered. A coldness crept down his spine. Sweat prickled his forehead—whether from the heat or from a deeper ache he couldn’t tell—and his hands clenched at his sleeves. Perhaps he would have to let her go. He pictured himself once desperate and shameless in pursuit of her; now he might become the one who walked away. She would hate him for it. She would be right to.
“Princess!” someone called.
“Junyi!” The voice that answered was small, and when Li Xinyue lifted her head she scanned the empty room as if expecting to see him in the doorway. The ache beneath her breast refused to be soothed. She lowered her face again, fingers tracing the pattern of the carpet like compass lines to guide her away from panic.
Hongxiu had beaten Chu Junyi to Murong’s household. She’d told Murong Jia every word Li Xinyue had spoken and then, fearing refusal, even knelt and begged for the favor with her life.
Unexpectedly, Murong Jia didn’t give an outright refusal. Instead she demanded to see Princess Yuanyang in person.
Hongxiu, delighted, brought her straight to the princess’s residence. Thanks to Commander Xiao’s tacit arrangements, getting to the princess was far less troublesome than usual. The door swung open and bright sunlight slanted across the room, making motes of dust drift like tiny constellations.
Murong Jia stood by the threshold, hands folded in front of her, and gave a polite, poised bow. “Princess Yuanyang, what favor do you seek from His Majesty?”
“To be married.”
“To whom?”
Li Xinyue turned toward her, surprised by the directness. Murong Jia pressed her lips together, summoned bravery, and asked like a child who’d been given permission to speak her heart. “To my brother, perhaps?”
Li Xinyue blinked.
Murong Jia steadied herself. “I rarely meddle in my brother’s affairs—he’s always been the one looking after me—but this time I want to manage something for him. I have heard whispers that you once declared your feelings to my brother, and that he cares for you too. When he learned you might be sent away to marry the Western Jin, he knelt before our mother and begged for her consent to wed you. If you consent to marry my brother, I will lend you my favor. If you refuse, I will not.”
The quiet audacity of the offer stunned Li Xinyue. “You’re not afraid my reputation would bring ruin to your house? That my scandal might stain the Guogong residence?”
Murong Jia shook her head and grew serious. “The Duke’s family has spent generations building its name with blood and sacrifice. A few tongues wagging will not break it. Besides, our heir marrying a princess is fitting. You would marry as equals—we would marry into each other’s standing.”
Li Xinyue laughed, unexpectedly bright. She had known so little of Murong Jia beyond the pale clichés of a noble lady—but today Murong Jia surprised her, and in the best way.
“All right,” she said.
Murong Jia’s face blossomed into a smile that lit the room.