One(snake)shat

My brother used to tell me stories on the nights when sleep refused to come, when winter bit through our tattered blankets or summer baked the ground beneath us until it felt like sleeping on coals. We had no roof back then, just whatever we could scrape together under temple awnings. The stories cost nothing, and they filled the hours better than complaining ever could.

He knew dozens, perhaps hundreds of them, from tales of generals who won unwinnable wars to crows deceived by foxes. But one stood out to me more than the others: the farmer and the snake.

The tale begins with a farmer who found a snake frozen stiff on a winter road. Poor thing, the farmer thought, so he tucked it in his coat and held it close against his chest where his body heat could thaw the ice from its scales. The snake slowly warmed, but the moment it woke, it sank its poisonous fangs into the farmer.

In his final moments, the farmer asked the snake why. Why repay kindness with death?

The snake's answer was simple: Because I am a snake. What did you expect?

My brother tapped my forehead twice after telling me this tale, the way he always did when he wanted me to remember something.

"Ying'er, some people will make themselves seem small and helpless so that you'll take pity on them. But don't trust them, not one bit!"

Funny how well I remembered that particular story.

Funnier that, when the time came, I didn't remember what my brother had told me.

***

Handan, State of Zhao

260 BCE, Warring States Period

The Chief Minister's laugh came too loud for the hour. He was a round man whose face had gone permanently pink from years of wine, and tonight it had deepened into something closer to the red threads of his hanfu. Even his usually kempt beard was damp from his drink.

"To the Grand Marshal!" He raised his cup so high that wine sloshed over the rim. "Holding Shangdang Fort with two thousand men against six! The histories will sing of it!"

I watched him drain the cup in three long gulps. My own cup sat untouched between my fingers, the wine gone from warm to cold over the past hour. I'd lost count of how many toasts the minister had made.

"At this rate," I said, "you'll drink the palace reserve dry before the month ends."

"Ha! Even if you win every battle - and I'd wager might, you terrifying bastard - the kingdom's going to fall anyway because of that second prince. Least I could do is deprive the enemy of our wine, eh? Let them march in to find nothing but empty jars and my corpse with a smile on its face!"

He paused.

"Emperor. I meant the Emperor."

My fingers wrapped around the cup's rim. The second prince was the kind of man who embodied everything I hated. He'd always been jealous, and he'd spent his whole life watching his elder brother receive everything he wanted: the throne, the ministers' favor, and a palace full of consorts eager to please him.

Then one morning, the first prince was found dead in his chambers.

The investigation lasted three days before the court declared it a suicide - suicide by a prince who'd never shown despair, with everything to live for, all suddenly dead by his own hand.

My brother went missing that same week. He was just gone, as if he'd walked out of the palace and disappeared into the night.

It was all far too convenient.

I'd worn his face ever since, binding my chest beneath his hanfu and carrying his name like my own. The Grand Marshal would live as long as I did, at least until I proved the current Emperor killed my brother and returned the favor.

"Careful, Chief Minister." I released my grip from the cup. "Wine makes men honest, and honest men make poor courtesans."

The minister chuckled. "It's not like the Emperor will hear me, Grand Marshal. That man's been bed bound for what, four months now? Might as well say what we think before Qin's army comes knocking and we can't say anything at all!"

He pushed the jug toward me.

"Now why don't you drink up? Don't tell me you worked your way up from the merit exams just to sit here like a monk. This is fine wine, Grand Marshal. The kind that costs more than most men earn in a year."

I pushed the jug away. "Not tonight."

"You know, you used to drink a lot back then. Did your miraculous revival make you queasy to wine?"

My hand stilled on the table. The official story was that my brother - I - had been gravely injured in battle. Everyone thought the Grand Marshal would die but then, just as suddenly, I recovered and returned to the palace.

It only worked because my brother and I has always been alike, both in appearance and in temperament. But wine? Wine was where we split. I'd tried it once, stolen from a merchant's cart, and nearly emptied my stomach. It tasted like rotten food and fire, and I couldn't understand why anyone would drink it on purpose.

"Wine just doesn't agree with me anymore," I eventually answered.

"Shame," He drained his cup again. "You were more fun drunk."

The minister kept going, rambling about our grain stores and how the quartermaster was probably stealing half of it as though he wasn't stealing from the stores himself. I'd spent months sitting through conversations like this one, all while getting no closer to the truth. The court was full of men like the Chief Minister - eager to drink wine and sing praises but utterly useless when it came to information.

So I'd changed tactics.

Three weeks ago, I'd let my hair down, unbound my chest, and slipped into the servants' quarters. According to my forged papers, I was a newcomer transferred from an estate along the outskirts and assigned to Consort Lian's household. Consort Lian had been the second prince's favorite before being bed bound. If anyone could get me to him, it would be her.

The Head Palace Maid had put me on kitchen duty my first day.

"Not like that!" Her hand shot out and snatched the knife from my hands. "Are you trying to make Consort Lian look like she employs fools?"

I'd been cutting vegetables wrong, apparently. She demonstrated the proper technique, then shoved the knife back in my hands.

"Again, and this time pretend you've held a blade before."

I bit back the response that I've held plenty of blades, just not for cutting radishes.

The Head Maid watched me for another moment, then her shoulders dropped.

"I apologize. That was harsh of me. It's just... Consort Lian picks at her food like a bird nowadays. I keep thinking if I make the dishes perfect enough, maybe she'll eat properly again."

Perhaps I could extract useful information from her.

"If I may ask, why is Consort Lian so troubled?"

For a moment I thought the Head Maid wouldn't answer, but then she sighed and picked up another vegetable to chop alongside me.

"The gift presentation was a week ago. All the consorts spent months preparing something special for His Majesty. As for Consort Lian, she worked herself half to death raising silkworms."

"Silkworms?"

"For the silk threads. She wanted to embroider a peacock, something worthy of an emperor. Do you know how difficult those creatures are to raise? They're more temperamental than newborns. She stayed up every night making sure they had fresh mulberry leaves, but when the day finally came, His Majesty didn't even bother to show up. All those sleepless nights, only to receive a single nod from the Empress."

The Empress. I'd been so preoccupied with coaxing information out of court ministers that I hadn't considered her. She was the late first prince's widow, now betrothed to the bed bound second prince to make his claim to the throne look legitimate. If she was receiving gifts on the Emperor's behalf and speaking for him...

The Chief Minister's voice cut through my thoughts.

"See something you like, Grand Marshal?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Don't be shy." He leaned back with a smug. "I would find myself staring too."

I followed his gaze across the garden, past the stone lanterns and flowering plum trees, to where the waterside pavilion resided over the pond.

The Empress was there, sitting at the edge of the pavilion, wine-red hanfu pooling around her. Even from this distance, she looked like a painting rather than a real person, with her pale skin and dark hair gathered into an elegant bun.

As I understood it, the Empress had locked herself away for weeks after the first prince died, playing the grieving widow so well that even Consort Lian's servants admired her devotion. So to see her outside her chambers was... strange, to say the least.

"If I were you," the minister said "I'd snag the Empress myself. Beauty like that doesn't come around twice."

"The Empress is married to the Emperor. What you're suggesting is a criminal offense."

"Criminal offense? Ha! Fratricide is a criminal offense too, but that didn't stop the current Emperor now, did it?"

I forced myself not to react.

"That man doesn't deserve the throne. Selfish, incompetent bastard spent his whole life whining about what his brother had. Now look at him, rotting in bed while the kingdom falls apart. He deserves everything taken away from him, including the Empress!"

I wanted to grab the minister by his wine-soaked collar and tell him to shut his mouth before he got us both caught, but I couldn't. The Grand Marshal wouldn't lose composure over ramblings of a drunkard. Instead, I pressed my hands flat against the table.

"Chief Minister, I understand your feelings. You were loyal to the late Emperor and you still are. But don't ever say that again, not if you still want your life."

The minister leaned across the table, close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath.

"You say that, Grand Marshal, but you agree with me, don't you?"

My hand shot out and snatched away his wine jug.

"That's enough wine for you."

"What? No, give that back!"

But I had already turned and walked away with the jug heavy in my right hand. The minister's protests faded behind me as I crossed the garden path toward the palace kitchens. Better to pour it out in the basins than let him talk himself into an execution.

I was halfway to the kitchen when a loud splash echoed across the yard.

I turned toward the pavilion. The Empress's wine-red hanfu were gone from where they'd been pooling at the edge, and large ripples had started spread directly beneath where she'd been sitting.

Is this woman so stricken with grief that she's decided to end her life by drowning?

My feet were already moving before I finished that thought. I couldn't let the Empress die not because I cared whether she lived, but because the Grand Marshal would've saved her. The Grand Marshal would dive in without hesitation, and right now I was the Grand Marshal.

I ran to the pavilion at full speed and launched myself into the cold water. The pond was deeper than it looked, and the weight of wet silk dragged me down. I kicked hard, breaking the surface just in time to see the Empress's head emerge directly in front of me.

For a heartbeat, I forgot where I was.

Water ran down the Empress's porcelain skin, which was made paler by the moonlight. Her hair had come loose from its bun, with black strands now clinging to her cheeks and neck. Droplets rested on her lashes, making her dark eyes luminous.

The Empress looked like a water spirit from one of my brother's stories, the kind that drowned men who stared too long. Then she started giggling, and the illusion in front of me disappeared.

I could only continue to stare. A lady, especially the Empress, shouldn't show a vulnerable expression like that in front of anyone, least of all men like the Grand Marshal. And wasn't she recently grieving the late Emperor?

"You really wanted to have wine with me that badly, Grand Marshal?"

Her words woke me up from my daze. I then followed her gaze down to my hand, where I was still clutching the Chief Minister's wine jug in a death grip. Even in the cold water, heat crept up my neck.

"Never mind that, Your Majesty. You mustn't kill yourself over the late Emperor!"

"Me? Over the late emperor? Now that would be foolish."

As I tried to make sense of her words, the Empress pushed her wet hair back from her face. This time, I could clearly see the amusement in her eyes.

"I happened to drop something very dear to me in the water, so I dove in to retrieve it."

I stared at her again. Had I, the Grand Marshal, hero of Shangdang Fort and victor of six impossible battles, really thrown himself into a pond, fully clothed and clutching a wine jug, to rescue a woman who didn't need rescuing…?

I bowed as low as the water allowed.

"This servant apologizes to Your Majesty for his presumption."

"Lift your head, Grand Marshal."

I raised my eyes but kept a slight bow. The Empress was still smiling.

"If you truly wish to apologize, you could help me find what I dropped."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'll retrieve it immediately. Might I ask what the item is?"

"Oh, you'll see."

I decided not to press her for an explanation, so I sucked in a breath and plunged beneath the cold water. The murky water left me nearly blind, so I could only sweep my hands across the pond bottom, where nothing but silt and smooth stones sat.

What am I doing?

The thought surfaced the more I felt around. Why am I groping around in a dirty pond for someone I couldn't care less about? Maybe embarrassment kept me going, or maybe I was simply trying to salvage what little dignity remained after that spectacular display I'd just made.

Eventually, my fingers brushed against something that wasn't silt or stones: metal. I closed my fist around it and kicked toward the surface. When I broke through, I noticed the Empress hadn't moved from her spot; rather, she was still watching me with that same amused expression.

I held up what I'd found between us: a golden hairpin made to look like a fully bloomed oleander. The petals were carved from pink jade and were so thin they looked ready to scatter in the wind. Dark green jade leaves curled along the stem, and at the flower's center sat a crimson jewel.

It was beautiful. Or deadly, if you knew what oleanders meant.

"Your Majesty."

The Empress looked at the hairpin, then at me, but made no move to take it.

"Your Majesty, is this not the item you seek?"

"It is, but I want you to put it in for me."

My hand stilled in the water. Every instinct told me that playing along with the Empress's game risked exposing my identity, but refusing now would likely draw even more suspicion.

"As Your Majesty wishes."

The Empress smiled before turning, presenting me with her back. Her dark hair rested on her shoulders, nothing like the carefully twisted-up bun it had been before.

I reached out and gathered the wet strands between my fingers, combing through them slowly. The motion came easier than it should. My brother used to do this for me when we were little, back when we had nothing but each other. He'd patiently work through the knots with his hands, never pulling too hard or complaining about how tangled they were.

I tried to imitate what my brother did, but it still took far longer than it should've. My fingers kept slipping, and twice I had to start over because the bun wouldn't hold.

Finally, I got it secured. I picked up the hairpin, studying it one last time before sliding it in. The petals caught moonlight as I did, casting pink shadows across my palm. It was clearly expensive - the jade petals alone were probably enough to feed a family for years.

Could it have been a gift from the late Emperor? That would explain why the Empress had said it was very dear to her.

I pushed the pin through her hair, then stepped back.

"It's done, Your Majesty."

The Empress touched the hairpin with one hand, fingers brushing the oleander petals. She was quiet for so long I started to wonder if I made a mistake, but then she spoke.

"You are not him, are you?"

At those words, it felt like ice had spread through my chest, colder than the pond water still soaking my hanfu.

How?

I'd studied my brother's voice and mannerisms until mine had disappeared. No one at court had ever questioned me, yet this woman had seen through it within minutes.

I forced myself to relax again. "Your Majesty must be suffering from shock. The cold water-"

"No, the Grand Marshal was always excellent at doing my hair, and he would've recognized this hairpin immediately."

She turned to face me, causing the water to ripple between us.

"Because he was the one who gave it to me."

My brother had given such an ornate hairpin to the Empress? When? Why? Had he known her, spoken to her, or touched her hair the way I just had?

I desperately needed to get out of this water, away from this woman who knows too much, but running would only confirm what she already suspected. I was trapped, and we both knew it.

"What do you want?"

"Not what I want. What we both want."

We?

I studied her face, searching for the trap in those words. She was the late first prince's widow, forced into marriage with the man who supposedly killed her fiancé. If anyone had reason to want the second prince dead, it would've been her.

"Are you asking me to kill the second prince?"

But killing him now would turn every eye in the court toward the Grand Marshal. I might have my revenge, but I'd also get an execution.

Suddenly, the Empress started giggling again.

"No, Grand Marshal. We both want company, of course."

…Company?

"Come to my chambers around this time tomorrow. I'll explain what I mean then."

The Empress didn't wait for my response. She simply turned and headed toward the edge of the pavalion. I watched her climb out, water streaming from the silks of her hanfu, and disappear into the gardens without looking back.

For a while, I stood alone in the pond, still with the Chief Minister's wine jug in my hand, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.

***

Sundown began to paint my office in red. I sat at my desk, studying the first report sent to me.

Enemy forces have advanced to the northern fort, but there's been no further movement.

I set the report down and picked up the next one, dated three days later.

Enemy forces remain stationed outside the northern fort. No attack has been attempted yet.

Then the one from yesterday.

Still no movement from the enemy. However, supplies are running low and morale is declining.

I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the wooden ceiling. The northern fort was weak. Everyone knew that supplies there were stretched thin and the walls had cracks wide enough to fit fists through. The situation was dire enough that the ministers had pulled me from my post on the western fort and sent here, closer to the northern fort. If the fort fell, the rest of Qin's army would be able to pour through our kingdom like water through a broken dam.

So why weren't they attacking?

Perhaps they were afraid. The Grand Marshal's reputation had grown the past year, and fear could make enemy generals cautious, but caution only went so far when victory was sitting right there.

They must be waiting for something. An opening, maybe.

I started drumming my fingers against the table. The more I dwelled on the enemy's strange behavior, the more my thoughts strayed back to the Empress's words from the night prior.

He was the one who gave it to me.

When I first arrived at the palace, I'd gone through my brother's belongings. I hadn't found a single letter nor anything that suggested he'd ever spoken to her.

Could it be a one-way affair? My brother had always liked women, collecting them the way merchants collected jade and other such jewelry. But he'd never been stupid about it. He knew what lines not to cross and sleeping with the late emperor's fiancé would definitely be one of them.

I straightened in my chair and rubbed at my temples, trying to clear my thoughts. When I turned toward the paper doors, I noticed the candlelight had faded.

Around this time tomorrow, she'd said.

I shoved the reports aside and headed outside. The palace corridors were empty at this hour, with most servants having already retired to their chambers for the night. I stayed out of sight, avoiding the main paths where the guards made their rounds.

The Empress's chambers sat in the western wing, far from where the Emperor rotted in his bed. When I arrived her door was slightly ajar, just enough for lamplight to spill into the corridor.

I stopped at the doorway and looked through the gap. The Empress stood with her back to me, her hands raised as she adjusted something in her hair. Her hanfu tonight was simpler than yesterday's, still a deep wine red but without much of the embroidery, and the loose collar left the back of her fine neck bare...

I quickly stepped back from the door and shook my head. Had I spent so long mimicking my brother that I inherited his urges?!

I forced my hand up and knocked twice against the doorframe.

"Your Majesty."

"Come in." Her voice carried that same amused tone from last night. "Have a seat."

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was smaller than I'd expected. It was modest with just a simple bed, a writing desk, and the low table where she'd been standing. A lamp burned on the desk, casting more shadow than light.

The Empress gestured to a cushion near the table. I crossed the room and settled on it, keeping my spine straight. She then settled onto her own cushion across the table.

"So, Grand Marshal, tell me about yourself and your brother."

I blinked. "Your Majesty?"

"Your brother. Tell me about him, and about you."

Was what she meant by company?

On one hand, I could lie. I could tell her some tale about a dutiful brother who died honorably in service to the kingdom. She would probably see through it in seconds, but at least I could keep my secrets close.

On the other, I could tell her the truth.

I looked at her across the table. The lamplight softened her features, making her look less like a painting this time and more like a real person. She'd lost her fiancé to murder, then watched the killer take his throne. And if my brother had truly given her that hairpin, if they had been close, then she'd lost him too.

No, pity was a luxury I couldn't afford, not here. The moment I start seeing the people of the palace as anything more than obstacles, I'd lose. But then the Empress spoke again.

"I miss him."

My chest tightened at those words.

"He..." I started, then stopped.

The Empress leaned forward slightly, and I kept going before I could think better of it.

"He'd steal rice cakes from street vendors and split them with me, always giving me the bigger half even when his stomach was growling louder. And he-"

The Empress held out a hand, stopping me mid-sentence.

"Wait, were those rice cakes from the vendors near the eastern market by any chance?"

I nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Those ones are terrible, far too oily and not enough honey! If your brother truly loved you, he should've stolen from the western vendors."

A laugh escaped me before I'd noticed.

"I'll be sure to pass along your critique when I see him in the afterlife."

"Good. Someone needs to tell him his taste in sweets was questionable at best."

She was smiling now, which should've unsettled me more than it did. Here was a grieving widow making jokes about rice cakes, but somehow I didn't mind.

"Go on," she said, waving her hand. "What else did he do?"

So I told her about how he'd tap my forehead twice when he wanted me to remember something important; how he convinced me we could fly if we jumped off a roof with stolen clothes tied to our arms like wings; how he'd trade his shoes for mine when mine wore through, even though his feet were bigger; and the strategy games we'd play with rocks and sticks, drawing maps in the dirt until we got blisters in our hands.

And then, without meaning to, I started talking about myself: how I learned to fight so I could help my brother out of scraps, and how I memorized every book I could steal or borrow, determined to prove I was just as clever as he was.

The Empress listened to everything, asking questions that made me laugh or think or both. Her eyes never left my face, and somehow that made it easier to keep on talking.

When had I last done this, spoken about my brother to someone who actually wanted to hear it?

The lamp had burned low by the time I finally noticed.

"Your Majesty, I should return to my quarters. They'll notice if I'm gone too long."

"Of course."

I rose quickly, bowed, and turned toward the door, but her hand caught my sleeve. I glanced back. She'd moved closer, close enough now that I could make out the fine details of her face in darkness, especially her lips, which were pink as oleanders and perfectly shaped.

"Your Majesty...?"

"Come back and keep me company in the future."

Before I could respond, she reached up. Her fingers touched my forehead, tapping twice in the way my brother used to.

"There. Now you'll remember to come back, Grand Marshal."

Heat rushed to my face. I stepped back so quickly I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"I- yes. Of course. Goodnight, Your Majesty."

I didn't wait for her reply. I hurried out of her chambers, doing my best not to think too much about the spot on my forehead where her fingers had lingered.

***

Many days passed since that night in her chambers.

I kept telling myself I wouldn't go back. The Empress was a distraction I couldn't afford, and every visit risked exposing my identity. But when the sun set and my duties ended, my feet carried me to her door.

She'd be waiting, usually with tea poured now. We'd sit across from each other and talk until the lamp burns out every time. Sometimes she'd ask about my brother or sometimes about the battles I'd fought. Other times she'd just tell me stories about palace life, about the absurd politics that happened behind closed doors. I learned she hated poetry because all the consorts wrote about longing, and that she could identify every plant in the palace gardens by smell alone.

On the nights I couldn't come - when I was sent north to defend the fort - those were worse. I'd stand on fortress walls watching the distance and think about whether she was still awake and had noticed I didn't come.

This is dangerous, you're getting too attached, I'd tell myself, day after day, but I always return with mud still on my boots, and she'd smile like I'd never left.

One evening I returned from a battle at the norther fort, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to wash blood off my arms and find my way to the Empress's chambers. But as I crossed the inner courtyard, I spotted Consort Lian's maids rushing past with baskets of laundry.

"-can't believe she just left without warning!"

"More work for us now. As if we weren't stretched thin already."

I felt a tinge of guilt. I'd forgotten entirely about my false identity as a servant in Consort Lian's household. They probably thought I'd abandoned them.

One of the maids rounded the corner and nearly collided with me.

"G-Grand Marshal!" She squeaked, face going pale before fleeing.

Strange. Maids should be trained better than that.

I stepped behind a nearby pillar and waited. Their voices drifted back from around the corner.

"Why did we run like that?"

"You haven't heard? The Grand Marshal's been sneaking into the Empress's chambers almost every night. They say he's been taking advantage of her while she's still in mourning."

Taking advantage of her while she's still in mourning.

Those words circled my mind as I made my way back to my office. I ended up pacing my office for so long that the lamp had burned down to nothing, and I'd lit another without even realizing.

If that was what the rumors were saying, I could tell the Empress we need to keep our distance until they died down. It was the logical choice, yet the thought of it made my chest ache.

When had I started needing those nights, the tea she'd pour as though my presence was assumed, and the sound of her laughter at my stories?

I stopped pacing.

No, let them talk. I'd faced worse than gossip.

Having made up my mind, I went up to the door and slid it open. The night air hit my face as I stepped into the corridor, but I barely made it two steps before palace guards blocked my path, a wall of them with spears leveled at my chest. The blades caught the outside lamplight, making them look like teeth.

The Chief Minister stood at the center of them all. His face had gone pale, nothing like the pink cheeks he wore after drinking, and his hands trembled as he held up a scroll.

"Grand Marshal Bai Ying, by order of the Imperial Court, you are hereby charged with high treason and regicide."

…What?

"The Emperor His Majesty was found dead in his chambers two hours ago. The Empress discovered the body, and the suspected murder weapon was recovered from your quarters by the Head Palace Maid."

No, this can't be true. I'd been nowhere near the Emperor's chambers!

"Chief Minister." I tried to keep my voice steady. "Clearly I've been framed. You know I had no reason to kill His Majesty."

"The evidence-"

"What evidence? A weapon conveniently found in my quarters after I return from the north font?" I stepped forward, causing the spears to be lifted higher. "Think about this. Who benefits from my execution?"

The minister's face twisted, but he didn't answer.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the corridor. The guards parted, and the Empress walked through. She wore the same simple hanfu as she had on my first night in her chambers, her hair once again hanging loose around her shoulders.

Relief flooded through me.

"Your Majesty." I reached toward her, though the spears kept me back again. "You believe me, don't you?

The Empress stopped just beyond the guards. I waited for her to speak, to tell them this was ridiculous, that I'd been with her nearly every night and she knew I couldn't have done this.

But she said nothing.

Instead, her gaze slipped from mine to the stone floor, and the silence stretched until it became clear that that was her answer.

"Your Majesty, please-!"

A spear slammed into the stone between us, the sound echoing through the corridor. The general who'd slammed the spear stepped forward, his face twisted with disgust.

"SILENCE, YOU MONSTER!"

Monster?

I looked at the guards, at the way they looked at me as if I were a depraved animal. Then it dawned on me: the nights I'd spent in her chambers, the rumors the maids had spread about me taking advantage of the grieving Empress. If the animalistic Grand Marshal hungered for the Empress, then of course he'd have reason kill the Emperor.

But why frame me?

The northern fort. Qin's army had been camping outside the kingdom's weak point, making no move even when victory was within their grasp. It wasn't because they feared the Grand Marshal's reputation. They were waiting for this exact moment - the moment I was executed for regicide. Once I was gone, the court would collapse into chaos. No general would be capable of holding the fort, leaving no one to stop Qin from sweeping across Zhao like floodwater.

The Empress would hand them the kingdom on a silver platter.

I looked at her again. That sadness on her face - was any of it real? Or had she practiced it the same way she'd practiced pouring tea, laughing at my stories, and touching my forehead with just the right amount of gentleness?

And that first meeting - had any of it been real either? The grieving widow, locked away in her chambers, supposedly so lonely that she longed for company. Had that loneliness been nothing more than another part of the act? Had she thrown the oleander hairpin into the pond on purpose, knowing I would retrieve it, knowing I would pity her enough to keep her company?

My brother's story came back, the one about the farmer and the snake.

Because I am a snake. What did you expect?

A laugh came up. The guards raised their spears even higher, probably thinking I lost my mind. Perhaps I had.

And the Emperor? My laughter died in my throat. If the Empress was the only one seeing him these past months, if she'd been speaking for him, receiving gifts on his behalf...

"He was already dead, wasn't he?"

The Empress went still for a moment. Then the sadness returned to her face, but I knew it for what it was now: another one of her acts, just like everything else I thought I knew about her.

The guards stepped forward, spears still raised. One seized my arm and wrenched it behind my back, but I didn't resist. What was the point?

As they hauled me past the Empress, I turned to take one last look. She finally lifted her eyes, and for a moment, they met mine.

But what I saw in front of me wasn't the Empress anymore. I only saw a snake, watching its prey take its final breath.