The holding chamber was Spartan—silk mats on a cold stone floor, guarded by two loyal but silent royal retainers. Maya was not officially a prisoner, but she was certainly not free. Her mind, however, was already far from the chilly room. It was consumed by the hidden weight in her sleeve—the tiny, tightly rolled cipher scroll.
She waited until the hour of the sleeping guards, holding her breath, listening to the rhythmic, distant calls of the night watch. Sliding the scroll out, she carefully unrolled the brittle parchment. The symbols were unlike Joseon characters; they were fluid, stylized, almost hieroglyphic, but centered on the image of the Sankofa bird and a striking lioness head.
Maya didn't read the script; she felt it. A faint humming seemed to resonate in the bone of her forearm. The symbols were the language of West-Seu, her forgotten homeland, and they translated into a dizzying rush of history. The script confirmed her lineage—she was Princess Anansi, heir to the West-Seu throne, displaced by a brutal coup twenty years prior. The Sankofa was not just a pendant; it was a mobile, encrypted seal, and its bearers formed the secret society dedicated to reclaiming the throne: The Lionesses. The name itself—Anansi—filled her with a strange mix of sorrow and purpose.
The scroll contained a single, critical instruction: Seek the Matron of the Inner Court. The Lioness will reveal herself.
The next day was a blur of supervised activity. Maya was officially designated as a temporary "Royal Ward," a move by Crown Prince Dong-jin to protect her from Prime Minister Choi's immediate grasp. This proximity, however, placed her directly in the den of vipers.
It was during a mandatory instruction session in the Grand Library that Maya encountered Lady Ji-su. Ji-su was a Matron of the Inner Court, overseeing the education of minor noblewomen. She was severe, impeccably dressed in rich, deep greens, and her presence commanded an immediate, respectful distance.
Maya was attempting to translate an obscure Joseon text—a task designed to test her ignorance—when Ji-su glided silently toward her. She didn't speak a word about the task. Her eyes, dark and intelligent, locked on Maya's.
"The patterns in the ceiling," Ji-su murmured, her voice a low, melodic whisper that only Maya could hear. "They are dizzying, are they not? Too many lines, too many false paths. Focus on the core symmetry, Ward Maya."
Maya's pulse leaped. The comment sounded mundane, but her subconscious screamed. She instinctively looked down, and as she did, Lady Ji-su's head tilted—a brief, almost imperceptible movement. It was not a bow of respect. It was a slight, subtle Lioness nod. A confirmation. A moment of recognition passed between the two women, a silent, profound commitment to the destiny that bound them. Maya felt an immediate surge of relief and purpose. She was no longer fighting alone.
Later, observing Ji-su from across the hall, Maya saw the hidden strength in the older woman's posture. She realized Ji-su had been watching her since she arrived, assessing her resilience and her ability to survive the court's scrutiny. Ji-su was not just a Matron; she was a master strategist, hidden in plain sight.
The first step was complete, but the danger of discovery loomed large. Every word, every glance, every movement in the palace was a calculated risk. Maya had to learn to move like a spy and think like a princess. The Lioness nod was her lifeline, signaling the start of her true apprenticeship.