The Attendant's Resolve
gifts. Thank you, Master Sterling.” I took the food box, and he nodded. “Eat well. You have a long day ahead.” I opened the box to find warm dishes and a bowl of hot soup. My eyes stung. In this palace, only Master Sterling and Gia had ever truly cared for me. But Gia was gone, and Master Sterling was getting older. I didn’t know how much longer I’d have him.
The New Year passed in a blur of duties. The Emperor resumed his court sessions, and I returned to my post by his side, grinding ink and handing him memorials. One day, a report arrived from the northwest frontier. Seventeen had fallen in battle. The Emperor read the report in silence, his face unreadable. He set it down and said nothing. I stood frozen, the inkstone nearly slipping from my hand. Seventeen—the young guard who had taught me how to shoot a bow, who had carried me on his back when I twisted my ankle, who had promised to bring me back a wolf pelt from the northwest. He was gone. I bit my lip hard, forcing back the tears. I couldn’t cry in front of the Emperor. That night, I lit a stick of incense in my room and faced northwest. “Seventeen, you said you’d come back. You lied.” I whispered, my voice cracking. The incense smoke curled upward, carrying my grief to nowhere.
Spring came, and the palace gardens bloomed. The Emperor held a small banquet for the consorts. Lady Seraphina attended, pale and thin, but she smiled and spoke as if nothing had happened. Lady Valeria sat beside her, silent and watchful. Lady Grace fluttered about, laughing too loudly, trying to catch the Emperor’s eye. He smiled at her, but his eyes were cold. I stood behind him, pouring wine, watching the farce unfold. The Empress presided with grace, the young prince cooing in her arms. Everyone played their part. I was just a maid, a piece of the scenery. But as I looked at the Emperor’s back, I felt a strange pang. He had once been a boy who laughed freely, who set off fireworks with us servants. Now he sat on his throne, surrounded by women who feared or hated him, alone in a crowd. I shook off the thought. It wasn’t my place to pity him. I had my place, and I intended to keep it.