CHAPTER 6 : THE GRAND CONSORT
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CHAPTER 6
"Come inside," Lord Zhào YùXuān said, his voice hearty, trying to break the tension that his eldest son had just laid over the courtyard like a blade. "You must be tired from the journey. We have prepared rooms for you all. And my mother is eager to meet you."
Mother nodded, her hand tightening briefly on mine. "Thank you, Lord Zhao."
We followed them into the main hall, our footsteps echoing on the stone floor. The hall was large and austere — dark wood beams, high ceilings, weapons mounted on the walls as decoration. Not paintings of flowers. Spears. Swords. Bows. It smelled of wood oil and clean air, not incense.
At the far end of the hall, seated on a raised platform on a chair of dark rosewood, was an old woman.
She was small, her hair completely white and pulled back in a severe bun, held with a single jade pin. She wore robes of deep grey silk, simple, no embroidery. Her face was lined, her hands gnarled on the armrests. But her eyes — her eyes were sharp and bright as a hawk's.
This was the Grand Consort. The Zhao Patriarch's mother. The Regent Prince's grandmother.
Everyone stopped. We bowed, low and proper.
"Grand Consort," Mother said, her voice respectful.
The old woman studied us, one by one. Her gaze lingered on Mother, then moved to me, then to my brothers, then to MěiLíng.
Then she smiled. It transformed her face, softened all the lines.
"Come here, children," she said, her voice surprisingly warm, a little rough with age. "Let me see you properly. Come closer, don't be shy."
We approached the platform, uncertain. She reached out a hand to Hán Míng first, who was hiding half behind Mother. "And who is this little one?"
"Hán Míng, Grand Consort," Míng whispered, bowing again.
She chuckled and patted his cheek, her hand papery and warm. "You have your grandfather's eyes, child. General Su's eyes. Good. Strong eyes." She looked at Chén and Lì. "And you must be the scholars. Good. A house needs both swords and books."
She turned to MěiLíng, and her smile didn't falter, but her eyes… her eyes saw more. "And you, child. You are the adopted daughter. MěiLíng, yes?"
MěiLíng curtsied, perfect and low. "Yes, Grand Consort. It is an honor to meet you."
"Mm," the Grand Consort said, noncommittal. Then her gaze came to me. "And you are JiāYì. The real daughter."
I bowed. "Yes, Grand Consort."
She studied my face for a long moment. "You look like your mother. Good. She was always the prettiest of the Su girls, and the smartest. Don't let anyone tell you different." She reached out and took my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "Welcome to the Zhao house, child. You are safe here."
Something in my chest loosened. I hadn't realized how tight it was until that moment. "Thank you, Grand Consort."
She finally turned to Mother, and her expression softened completely. "RuìXī. My dear girl. Come here."
Mother went to her and knelt by the platform, taking the old woman's hands. "Grand Consort."
"You foolish girl," the Grand Consort said, but there was affection in it. "You should have come to me years ago. When that fool of a husband first started looking at other women. I would have set him straight."
Mother laughed, a watery sound. "I know."
The Grand Consort cupped Mother's face. "You are home now. Do you understand me? You are home."
Mother nodded, unable to speak.
---
While they talked, low and intimate, the three Zhao princes sat in one corner of the hall, watching.
Zhào Chányán sat apart, his back straight, his eyes fixed intently on the conversation between his grandmother and Sū RuìXī. He was listening to every word, his face unreadable.
Zhào YìChén and Zhào MíngYuǎn sat together on a bench, whispering.
"She doesn't look like a money grubber," MíngYuǎn muttered, watching Mother.
YìChén elbowed him. "You duffer. She's the granddaughter of General Su. The Su family is one of the top 5 elite families in the whole kingdom. They have more honor than gold. She doesn't need to grub for money."
"Oh. Right." MíngYuǎn looked chastened. Then curious. "Did you know… I heard Sū RuìXī also has a real elder sister who's a consort to the Emperor. Noble Consort Sū, actually."
YìChén nodded. "I heard that too. So she's not climbing. She's already at the top. She's just… choosing a different branch."
They both looked at their father, Zhào YùXuān, who was standing near his mother, looking uncharacteristically soft as he watched her talk to Sū RuìXī.
"You know," MíngYuǎn whispered, a grin spreading on his face, "I think this woman is perfect for Dad."
YìChén snorted, then grinned too. "For controlling Dad?"
"Yes! For making him wear good, royal, rich clothes which he hardly touches!" MíngYuǎn chuckled, remembering the morning. "Did you see him? He changed 25 robes before they came. Twenty-five! Our father, who wears the same training clothes for a week, changed twenty-five robes."
They both snickered, trying to be quiet.
They didn't realize their eldest brother was looking at them.
Zhào Chányán's cold voice cut through their giggles. "Want to know some more info about General Su's daughter, huh? You know quite a lot."
They froze.
Chányán stood up, his movements economical. "Aren't you going to welcome your guests? They're new here. Go. Make them feel comfortable. Make sure they are alright."
He looked at them, and his golden eyes were flat. "Now."
"Yes, gege," they said in unison, scrambling up.
Chányán watched them go, then turned to his father. "I have to go to the palace. Official work."
Lord Zhao nodded, distracted. "Go."
Chányán left, his boots silent on the stone, his back straight as a sword.
---
YìChén and MíngYuǎn looked at each other.
"We have to go upstairs," YìChén sighed.
"We do," MíngYuǎn agreed.
They hadn't been happy about their father's remarriage. Not at first. Their mother had been dead for almost ten years, and the house had been theirs. Quiet. Predictable. Their father's.
But thinking about it for a long time, on the training grounds, in the evenings… more kids of their own age wouldn't be a bad idea after all. It had been quiet for a long time.
"Come on," YìChén said. "Let's go see if they're comfy. Do they need anything."
They headed for the stairs.
---
Upstairs, a servant showed the Han family children their rooms.
The rooms were in the east wing, overlooking the training grounds. They were not like the Han manor rooms.
JiāYì's room was spacious, with a large window, a bed of dark wood with clean white linens, a writing desk, a bookshelf already half-filled with books on history and strategy, and a rack for weapons on the wall. The floor was polished wood, covered with a simple woven rug. There was no silk on the walls. No gold. Just clean lines and good craftsmanship. A brazier stood in the corner for warmth.
Chén's room was similar, but the bookshelf was full, and there was a larger desk.
Lì's room had a sword rack that was already filled with practice swords of different weights.
Míng's room was smaller, but had a window seat piled with cushions, and a small wooden horse in the corner.
MěiLíng's room was beautiful, but plain. No vanity table with a silver mirror. Just a washstand, a bed, a desk.
They stood in the hallway, looking at their doors.
"Well," Chén said, his scholar's voice careful, "let's see if we like this place or not. Three days. We can endure three days."
Lì was already opening and closing his door, looking at the swords. "These are good swords."
Míng just looked overwhelmed.
JiāYì stood in the doorway of her room, and felt a wave of relief so strong it made her eyes sting. She was happy to be with her mother. She was in a place where the walls didn't feel like they were listening. She looked at her hands and thought, with deep gratitude, Thank you. Thank you for the visions. Thank you for letting me see. Thank you for letting me change my fate.
MěiLíng stood in her doorway, watching JiāYì. Her expression was pleasant. Inside, her thoughts were sharp as glass. She looks happy. She thinks she won. She thinks she's safe here. MěiLíng smiled. We'll see. I always compete with you, JiāYì. In every term. In beauty. In grace. In the affection of our brothers. In the attention of men. And I always win. This will be no different.
JiāYì felt it. A prickle on the back of her neck. She turned her head slightly, and her power stirred, unbidden.
A flicker — fast, fragmented — MěiLíng, smiling, holding out a cup of tea to someone. A shadow falling. A gasp.She was trying to frame her.
JiāYì blinked, the vision gone.She understood .. so far her future foreseeing skills haven't lied to her .Her heart was beating fast. Something is going to happen. Soon.
She looked at MěiLíng, who was smiling at her sweetly.
JiāYì smiled back.
The game, she realized, had already begun.
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