Ashes in the Snowfall

"Why the hell did this mess land on me?" Prince Kaelen gasped to the heavens, the bitterness etched deep in his face.

By the time twilight swept over the flying eaves of Dawnspire Manor, the chandeliers had been lit one by one.

Within the dining hall, smoke from the incense coiled silently in the gold-inlaid boshan censer. A few seasonal dishes had been set on the lacquered table.

Duke Cyrien picked up a slice of marinated goose. Across from him, the second prince drained his third cup of bamboo-leaf wine. The jade belt clasp at his waist knocked lightly against the table's edge with a dull ding.

Kaelen slammed down his cup.

"Lord Peryn, that cunning fox—he stuffed the case scroll into my hands this morning in front of the entire Justiciary, muttering about 'His Majesty's orders' and how he couldn't interfere. He couldn't have distanced himself from it faster—looked like I was about to have him executed!"

Clink.

The silver chopsticks struck lightly against the rim of the porcelain plate.

Cyrien lowered his gaze as he ladled a bowl of beef stew, the rising steam masking his expression.

"Lord Peryn has long followed your lead, Your Highness. If he says His Majesty forbade interference… then perhaps it is so."

Kaelen's brow furrowed, fingers tracing the ice-crack glaze of the wine cup. "How did Father find out that Peryn was loyal to me?"

"It would be more surprising if he didn't know," Cyrien murmured, stirring the stew. A single bay leaf floated in the broth like a drifting petal.

"Our dear sovereign… is clearer in the head than any of us."

"My brothers all have their own alliances at court. Father's always been aware of that, and he's never stopped them. So why single me out now?"

"Perhaps because your star burns too brightly," came a voice from the door, the words veiled in the rhythm of the evening watch drums, like honey laced with needles.

A hand lifted the dark velvet curtain. A figure stepped across the threshold, skirt brushing away the faint dust on the threshold stone. Her gold hairpins trembled slightly, catching the chill of the night dew.

"You're back, Lady Yinhale," Cyrien greeted with a soft smile.

Lady Yinhale slipped off her silver-crane cloak and handed it to a maid.

The white jade ornament pinned in her hair glowed in the firelight, casting a lone silhouette against the wall—like a frost-plum inked from a winter scroll.

"Forgive me, husband," she bowed gracefully. "I was delayed." She nodded to Kaelen. "Your Highness."

"No need for formality," Kaelen helped her to her seat. "So late… don't tell me a storyteller in the southern quarter stopped your steps with some tale of 'the Sun rising, the Moon falling'?"

Yinhale lowered her eyes and smiled, producing a copy of the Diamond Sutra from her sleeve.

"The white plums behind the Temple of Mercy were in full bloom. I went to offer them at the altar. The abbot insisted on discussing Zen until sunset. Before I knew it, a day had passed."

She picked up an almond pastry. A few flakes dropped onto the cover of the scripture, right over the characters for "Mercy."

"I don't quite understand what Your Highness meant by 'the Sun rises, the Moon falls.' Who dares write such verses under the Emperor's gaze?"

Kaelen tapped his jade belt clasp twice against the porcelain plate. The oily gleam of the marinated goose wavered with the motion.

"It wasn't a poem. Though by now, I suspect there are already operas being sung about it. You haven't heard of the omen from yesterday?"

Lady Yinhale's jade bracelet struck the tea tray with a soft chime. Her hand paused mid-pour.

"Your Highness has never shown an interest in scripture," she said gently. "The Temple of Mercy is far to the east of the White Tiger Gate, nestled on the peak of Mount Xiqia. Facing the southern tributary, it has a stone stair with nine twists, shaded by ancient pines."

"It was overcast all day yesterday. I spent my time in the library tower. Didn't glimpse a shred of sky."

"Then you've likely not heard the rhyme either," Kaelen exhaled, his breath laced with wine.

"Oh?" Her tone chimed like a windbell touched by a breeze.

"The Sun ascends, the Moon falls,The banner of the North locks Heaven's walls.The Black Tiger weeps, the Dragon blinds—The true heir camps where the desert winds."

Cyrien recited the nursery rhyme, his fingertips brushing unconsciously against the table's edge.

Lady Yinhale laughed lightly, silk veil half-lifting to her lips.

"How clumsy. It barely scans. How did it spread so quickly?"

Kaelen laughed bitterly. "Exactly."

"So someone's been stirring the pot," Cyrien added.

"Whoever it was, they've dragged me straight into the fire," Kaelen groaned. "Father was furious when he heard. Now he's made me investigate the rumors."

Lady Yinhale smiled softly. "Perhaps Your Highness displeased His Majesty in some way."

"You make me sound like some useless wastrel who does nothing but stir up trouble."

"I dare not say so," she replied sweetly.

Kaelen rubbed his temples. "Don't say 'I dare not.' I've heard that phrase too many times this week—it gives me a headache."

Just then—

A black cat leapt from the beam above. The silver tag on its collar clinked against the stone floor with a crisp tinkle.

Cyrien caught sight of a figure just beyond the curtain, silhouetted in the flickering lantern light.

He walked silently to the doorway, but by the time he reached it, the figure had vanished into the night.

Kaelen was poking absentmindedly at the candied nuts in the glass dish. "Shouldn't we invite Kael to dinner too?"

"He disobeyed my orders and went out yesterday. Got himself frightened on the road."

Cyrien looked toward the far end of the corridor, where the lanterns swayed faintly.

"I've ordered him confined to his chambers for reflection," he said, but then paused, gaze sharpening.

"That boy… never learns."