The Queen returned to public life not with a whisper, but with a feast.
A morning ceremony for the Ancestors. A midday offering in the temple. And a sunset banquet "in honor of peace and prosperity among the consorts." But no one in the palace mistook it for generosity.
It was a performance — for the court, for the King, and most of all, for the women who might forget she still ruled them.
She wore black silk trimmed with white jade, the colors of mourning and purity — a subtle reminder of her loss, though the court still whispered about whether the Queen's stillborn child had truly been the King's.
Liora stood beneath the eaves as the Queen descended the banquet hall stairs. Lady Wen whispered, "She looks like a widow in her own palace."
But the Queen's voice, when she welcomed the gathered women, was warm. Controlled. Deliberate.
"We have lost much," she said, resting a hand over her belly, "but we still serve the same Heaven, the same throne. May the virtues of our house endure."
Applause followed. Liora's hands remained still.
---
Then came the surprise: the Queen announced the formation of a Women's Rites Council — a ceremonial committee made up of consorts, tasked with overseeing temple offerings, feast preparations, and palace rituals.
A small power. But real.
"And leading the Council," the Queen said, eyes calm, "will be Virtuous Consort Elira."
The air stilled.
Elira stepped forward with a bow, a smile hidden behind her fan.
Liora met her gaze across the room. There was no triumph in Elira's face. Only certainty.
---
Later that evening, a gift was delivered to Liora's quarters.
A lacquered box. Inside, a delicate scroll inked in a careful hand:
"All things done in light cast a longer shadow in the dark."
– Virtuous Consort Elira
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
---
The Queen had drawn new battle lines.
By elevating Elira, she let the rest of the harem know: Liora's rise was not blessed. She might bear heirs, she might wear the title, but she had not won the Queen's trust — or her protection.
Even more dangerous? She had isolated Liora without lifting a single blade.
The other consorts, especially the lower-ranked ones, would now hesitate before aligning openly with Liora.
And worse — the King had not intervened.
---
The following night, Liora received word that a minor concubine had been beaten — publicly, just outside the laundry quarters, accused of speaking out of turn about the Queen's banquet.
The girl's name was Jun.
She was barely fifteen, barely important, and already half-forgotten.
Liora sent for her.
When Jun was brought to her courtyard — limping, bruised, humiliated — Liora asked only one question:
"What did you say?"
Through cracked lips, the girl whispered:
"Only… that your robe was brighter than the Queen's. That you looked like the sun."
Liora exhaled, slowly.
"Then let them be afraid of shadows."
She ordered Jun moved into her personal household.
Not out of pity. Out of strategy.
The Queen had used a feast to move her chessboard.
Liora had just claimed a pawn.