The throne room was quiet.
It was always quiet now. Li Hua had seen to that. The guards spoke in whispers. The servants moved like shadows. No one laughed. No one argued. No one did anything without her permission.
She liked it that way.
She leaned back against the jade throne, her fingers tracing the carved armrest. Once, this throne had belonged to the Jade Jaguar Kings. Their symbols were still there, buried beneath layers of bear fur and dark paint, if you knew where to look.
She knew where to look.
She had spent five years learning every secret of this place. Every passage. Every weakness. Every soul she could buy or break or bury.
Five years.
She turned the iron crown in her hands. It was heavy. Ugly. Nothing like the delicate gold pieces she used to wear when she was the Bear King's mate.
Mate.
The word tasted like ash.
