Julia stands before the thin paper room divider that separates her from the Empress. She slowly kneels, bowing her head with a carefully neutral expression, though her racing heart betrays her composure. Through the translucent paper, she can barely make out the silhouette of the ruler she has journeyed halfway across the world to meet—the huliren Empress of Tiānxià.

The scent of sandalwood hangs in the air, mingling with the subtle jasmine perfume that Julia imagines belongs to the Empress. Her gloved hands clutch the hilt of her sheathed sword so tightly her knuckles whiten, the cold metal pressing against her palm as she fights the urge to burst through the divider.

Years of discipline have prepared her for this moment, yet nothing could steel her nerves for the reality of standing in the same room as her childhood vision made flesh. The sound of rustling silk from the other side sends a shiver down her spine. She knows speaking without being addressed would be a grave insult punishable by death, but the silence stretches on, testing her already frayed self-control.