The cold palace was nothing like the splendor the Empress had once known. The grand chambers of the Phoenix Pavilion, with their gilded walls and jeweled ceilings, were a faraway memory now. Her robes were no longer woven with gold thread or embroidered with phoenixes. The only fabric that now touched her skin was a coarse, dull-gray garment that scratched with every movement. Her hair, once adorned with jade pins and shimmering pearls, hung loosely around her face, tangled and greasy.
Only one maid had been assigned to her—a surly, disinterested girl who barely hid the disdain in her gaze. She swept the dusty corners of the room with languid strokes, making no effort to engage with the woman she once would have bowed to.
