The master bedchamber of the East Palace was completely ridiculous.
In the North, our bedroom was massive but practical, filled with sturdy cedar wood, warm furs, and a glowing charcoal brazier.
Here, the room looked like a gold mine had exploded.
Thick, overly perfumed incense burned in the corners, making my nose itch. The futon was large enough to fit an entire squad of guards, draped in twelve layers of sheer, glittering silk. Every wall was covered in painted screens depicting soaring dragons and blooming lotuses.
And according to the terrifyingly quiet Warlord standing next to me, almost every single one of those lotuses was listening to us.
Akira and I stood in the exact center of the room. We hadn't spoken a single word since the Imperial Chamberlain closed the doors.
