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The night was dark, the moon casting its pale light over the palace.
Clad in dragon robes, the young Emperor hurried through the long, twisting corridors, sword in hand, before bursting into the Dragon Roar Hall.
Like a man drowning, he slammed the doors shut, locked them, and stumbled toward a small round mechanism. His trembling fingers clutched it, twisting, turning, again and again, until at last the hidden chamber opened.
He darted inside. Only when his eyes landed on the old swallow kite lying upon the table did he finally breathe again. Relief washed over him. It was as though he had seized hold of his anchor at last.
The panic and dread faded from his face, replaced by a sudden, crystalline clarity.
That battered kite had always been his pillar of strength. It was this fragile thing that had given Ji Hu the courage to endure until now.
No matter what poisonous rumors spread outside about his mother and the Marquis of Freedom, no matter how many courtiers and common folk mocked him in secret, he remained unmoved, sometimes even quietly comforted. For he was certain that his father still existed, and that his mother...
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