“Highness, your father has summoned you.”

The handmaiden hovered in the doorway, hands tucked in her sleeves and eyes cast downwards. Huaye glanced at the door before returning her gaze to the mirror.

“You are not one of my handmaidens,” she said.

“I am new, highness.”

“Tell me,” Huaye mused, gesturing the girl over with a curled finger. “My father only summons me for one of two reasons. What would you guess his reason for summoning me would be today?”

The girl approached the dresser with trained obedience, placing herself behind the left shoulder of the Dage, awaiting her instruction. Huaye nodded towards an intricately carved jade box on the surface of the dresser. The girl lifted an ebony comb out of the box, and with gentle strokes, she combed.

“I am afraid I do not know, highness,” she replied, “the emperor did not say.”

Huaye frowned at her reflection. “Of course he didn’t.”

The girl remained silent to the comment, but in the mirror's reflection, her eyelids flickered. Another servant entered, carrying a tea tray. He placed the tray on a low table in the centre of the room and bowed before leaving. Huaye watched the servant through the mirror before returning her gaze to the girl.

“What is your name?”

“Suyin, highness.”

“That’s a pretty name. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it,” said Huaye. “Pour me some tea please, Suyin.”

The girl stopped combing and moved to the table. Huaye watched through the mirror, unblinking, as Suyin kneeled, her back facing the mirror. After a moment Suyin returned with the tray.

Huaye looked at the tray. “Suyin,” she said. “You have only prepared one cup. It is customary for my handmaidens to drink tea with me.”

“Forgive me, highness,” Suyin replied, “I did not think we were allowed.”

“I always share my tea with my staff. Does this make you uncomfortable?”

Suyin hesitated and glanced down.

Huaye smiled. “Isn’t it funny, Suyin,” she sighed, “the only thing that separates us is the circumstance in which we were born. Were I not the seed of an emperor, I might be a lowly maid, delivering half-messages to the Dage somewhere; combing her hair and helping her dress.”

The handmaiden did not reply, her eyes facing the floor. Even through the girl’s thick makeup, she had paled.

“Come now, Suyin,” Huaye continued, “I have invited you to drink tea with me. Would you reject this offer?”

Taking the teapot, Huaye poured the water into a cup and ceremoniously handed it to Suyin.

“Please, I insist.”

“I mustn’t, highness,” the girl stammered.

“Very well.”

Huaye placed the cup back on the tray and returned her gaze to the mirror. The handmaiden resumed combing.

“How does such a plain creature as yourself end up here, in a palace?” Huaye asked, “in the palace of Hendu, of all places?”

Suyin said nothing. Huaye watched her face in the mirror. Not even the slightest twitch. Poisoners were trained to be poised and well tempered, that was expected.

“Where does such a plain creature, with such a pretty name, crawl from?”

The girl's right eye gave the slightest movement. A knot met the tooth of the comb and for a moment, it snagged.

“My family hails from the Gen province, highness.”

“And what is a Gen assassin doing in my personal chambers?”

The girl froze. Huaye whipped around in her seat and seized Suyin’s wrist, digging her nails into the pale flesh. The girl dropped to her knees, wincing. Still holding her wrist, Huaye pulled back the sleeve to reveal the scar tissue of a brand, the sigil marked clearly. With her free hand, Huaye reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of large, gold scissors. Suyin’s eyes widened.

Huaye pressed the scissor blade against Suyin’s throat and whispered. “I know what you and my brother are up to, whore. How much did he pay you?”

She tightened her grip and the girl yelped.

“Please, highness…”

“You think there are secrets in this palace that can be kept from me?” Huaye demanded. “You think I can’t tell a poisoner when I see one?”

The girl squirmed in Huaye’s grip, tears smearing her makeup. “N-no, highness… I would never…”

“You have the audacity to lie to my face?”

“No. Please! It’s not what it looks like!”

Huaye turned back to her dresser, releasing her grip. Suyin slumped to the floor, clutching her wrist.

“Wugo,” she said.

From behind a curtain, stepped a figure. “Yes, highness?”

“Deal with this traitor.”

Suyin turned to face Wugo and paled. “Please, highness… not that, anything but that…” she begged, prostrating herself at Huaye’s feet, sobbing freely.

Huaye continued to stare into the mirror. “Convince me.”

Suiyin looked up. “Take my hair!” she begged. “Banish me! Anything, princess, please! I’ll leave tonight. You’ll never hear from me again, I swear!”

“Well,” Huaye replied, “you have tainted my sacred hair with your disgusting hands. I suppose it’s only fair if I took yours.”

“Of course, highness.”

The girl obeyed and rose to her knees. Sniffling, she began removing the delicate floral pins that held her hair in place, spilling it down over her shoulders. One pin, a bright golden flower inlaid with tiny rubies, caught Huaye’s attention.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, plucking it from the girl’s head.

“It was a gift, highness.”

“From whom?”

Suyin did not answer.

“I have a proposition for you, Suyin,” said Huaye. “You can keep your hair, your name, and your miserable life, in exchange for this little pin. What do you say to that?”

“Oh, thank you, highness!”

“Excellent,” replied Huaye, twirling the pin between her fingers. “Now get out of my sight.”

The girl gathered herself, bowed low and retreated out of the room.

“You were right, Wugo,” said Huaye. “She was an assassin.”

“Do not worry, highness,” said the figure quietly. “I will deal with her.”

“Make it quick.”

-

Huari strode through the corridor towards the throne room, his manservants in tow, trotting behind him like obedient terriers. Two soldiers waited at the doors. Upon his approach they moved, coordinated and fluid, each taking a handle and heaving the heavy wooden doors open. Huari passed them and hurried into the room, the doors closing behind him. He followed the carpet, striding towards a raised, golden dais at the far end. Soldiers lined the walkway, standing stiff and lifeless. Tapestries depicting scenes of great battles and parties lined the walls, their embroidered subjects dancing, brought to life by the flicker of the torchlight.

Stepping up to the dais, Huari bowed. The emperor sat above him, resting on a pile of plush silk cushions, weaved with threads of gold, his eyes closed as if in contemplation. To his left kneeled the empress, his mother, serene and resplendent as a swan. She was clad in white and red silk, her hair pinned high with gold wire, jewelled combs and vivid flowers of orange and magenta. She smiled warmly at him, nodding in acknowledgement of his presence.

Huari straightened himself. “You summoned me, father?”

The emperor opened his eyes to regard him momentarily, then closed them again. “Where is your sister?”

Huari shifted on his feet and glanced down. “I’m sure she will be here soon.”

“Then we will wait for her.”

The doors opened, and Huaye stepped in, approaching the dais with feigned humility. Her handmaidens bowed low as they followed. “Forgive me, father. I hope you were not waiting long.”

“Huaye,” the old man drawled, “I expect my first born to approach me in accordance with the order of their birth. Why are you late?”

“I had to dismiss one of my handmaidens,” replied Huaye. She shot Huari a glance and his face reddened. “She snagged my hair with a comb, and it broke. The ebony one. It was my favourite.”

“When I summon my children, Huaye,” the emperor replied, “I expect them to appear to me in a timely manner. You may discipline your staff when I am done with you.”

Huaye bowed. “Of course, father.”