The room had no windows.
That was the first thing Soyeon noticed when they brought her here four days ago. No windows. There was only four walls of gray stone, a sleeping mat, a chamber pot in the corner, and silence so thick it felt like she was drowning in it.
They had come for her at dawn, three guards with expressionless faces, saying only: "By order of His Majesty the Emperor."
No explanation. No trial.
The first day, she had paced. Counted the stones in the wall. Tried to convince herself this was temporary, a misunderstanding, they would realize she hadn't actually poisoned anyone and let her go.
The second day, panic set in. What if they didn't let her go? What if this was it? What if she died here, alone, in a world that wasn't even hers?
The third day, she stopped counting time. Let the hours blur together. Servants brought food twice daily, rice, vegetables, sometimes soup, always cold. They bathed her, silent women with gentle hands and pitying eyes who wouldn't meet her gaze. Changed her into clean robes of plain cotton, stripped of all the fine silks and jade ornaments.
They never spoke to her. Not once.
The silence was worse than any interrogation.
By the fourth day, Soyeon had stopped trying to be brave.
She sat curled on the sleeping mat, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing. Her mind had become a broken record, looping the same desperate prayer over and over.
I want to go home. Please. Please let me go home.
Jiwoo, help me. I should have stayed in Seoul where I belonged. Mom, Dad, help me. Please. I don't want to die.
She thought about the wardrobe. That cursed, beautiful wardrobe that had brought her here. Where was it now? Could she even find it again? Would it even work if she did?
Would Liang Jian look for me if I disappeared?
The thought reared it's ugly head in her mind, and she hated herself for it.
Why did she care? He was a prince. She was nobody. A foreigner. A suspect. He probably didn't even remember she existed, off fighting his wars, securing his borders, while she rotted in this cell.
But she remembered the way he had held her on the horse. The way his voice had softened when he said you're safe. The way he had almost touched her face in that hallway, his eyes dark and conflicted.
You're even more hopeless than the dumbest Chinese drama female lead, she told herself fiercely. He doesn't care. He's probably glad you're gone. One less problem to deal with.
But the longing remained, a hollow ache in her chest that wouldn't fade.
I want to see him. Just once more. Just to know he's safe.
Footsteps.
Soyeon's head snapped up, her heart lurching.
The door opened.
General Wei stepped inside, his wrinkled face set in a tight expression. Behind him, two younger officials she didn't recognize filed in, carrying scrolls and writing implements. Witnesses, then. This was official.
"Lady Su Yan," General Wei said. "Please rise. His Majesty the Emperor has commanded your questioning regarding the poisoning incident four days past."
Soyeon stood on shaking legs. Her voice came out hoarse from disuse. "General Wei, I didn't—I would never—"
"Answer only what is asked." His eyes held a warning. Be careful. They're watching.
The officials arranged themselves, brushes poised over paper.
General Wei began.
"State your name and origin."
"Su Yan. From the far west."
"How did you come to be in the Imperial Palace?"
"I saved the Second Prince's life. His Majesty granted me residence as the prince's personal physician."
"On the day of the poisoning, where were you?"
"In the Jade Phoenix Palace gardens with Lady Xia and His Highness the Crown Prince."
"Did you have access to the kitchens prior to the incident?"
"No, General."
"Had you ever been to the eastern kitchens before that day?"
"No, General."
"Do you know the identity of the poisoned cook?"
"No, General. I had never seen him before."
"Do you possess knowledge of poisons?"
Soyeon hesitated. This was dangerous territory. "I possess knowledge of toxicology, General. As a physician, I must know how to treat poisonings. That's how I was able to save the cook's life."
"Could you have poisoned him yourself and then 'saved' him to gain favor?"
The accusation hit her, knocking the air right out of her lungs. Soyeon's eyes stung with tears she refused to shed.
"No," she whispered. "I would never. I'm a healer. I took an oath—" Her voice cracked. "I took an oath to do no harm. I would never poison anyone. Never."
General Wei's expression softened minutely, but the officials kept writing, their brushes scratching mercilessly across paper.
"Lady Su, you must understand the court's position," General Wei said, gentler now. "You are foreign. Your background is unclear. Your arrival coincided with increased incidents—"
"I didn't do anything wrong!" The words burst out. "I just wanted to help! I saved the Second Prince, I saved the cook, I've done nothing but try to help and now you're treating me like a criminal!"
The tears came then, streaming down her face.
"I didn't ask to be here," she sobbed. "I didn't ask for any of this. I just want—"
I want to go home. Please. Please let me go home.
But she couldn't say that. She couldn't explain that home was another world, another time, impossibly far away.
General Wei opened his mouth to continue, but the door slammed open.
Prince Liang Jian stood in the doorway.
Soyeon's breath stopped.
He looked like he had ridden through hell itself. His black robes were travel-stained and dusty. His hair had come partially loose from its tie, strands falling across his face. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and fresh cuts marked his arms and hands, some still seeping blood through hastily wrapped bandages. His chest heaved with exertion, like he had been running.
His eyes found hers immediately, dark and blazing with fury.
"What," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady, "is the meaning of this?"