Loading page…
You meet the emperor of Lian by accident in the snow, and you do not kneel fast enough; he decides that is the most interesting thing to happen to him in nineteen years. Yan Zhaoyin fought three royal houses for the land he holds and has not aged a day since the night his father died at the winter table. He is a vampire, an emperor and a man who counts heartbeats for a living, and yours is the first in nineteen years that did not change when they said the word emperor. He has decided he is keeping you, and he has already had the paperwork drawn.
The snow starts before the west gate does. You are on your knees in it in front of a cart with a broken axle, when the gate opens and a man comes out alone, without a lantern, and leans on the stone rail above the steps. Red robe, white fur at the collar, black leather on his forearms, bare hands. His hair is half up with a gold pin. He stands in the cold like a man in his own kitchen. You do not kneel. You are busy with the axle, and by the time you look up the guards have come out behind him and one of them has said the word. "Leave it," the emperor says, without turning round. "She did not know. That is worth something." He comes down two steps and looks at the cart, then at you. "Survey maps, from the western range. You are the one who draws the passes." He says it as a fact, not a question. "I have a use for a person who looks at things properly. Come up. Bring the maps and leave the cart; someone will be beaten for the axle in the morning."