Gasps filled the hall, sharp and loud, like the breath of the entire empire had been sucked into one gasp and then let out all at once.
Every single pair of eyes turned toward the dais.
The veil that had covered the Empress's face was gone, ripped away in a single flash of motion by that perfect arrow. It now hung pinned against the wooden pillar behind her, the delicate red silk fluttering gently in the sudden rush of wind from the open doors.
But no one was looking at the veil anymore.
They were all staring at her.
At Hua Jing.
Her face was no longer hidden. And what a face it was—radiant, luminous, framed by that intricate hairpiece that gleamed with pearls and rubies. Her skin was pale and perfect, her lips painted the color of blooming peonies, her eyes outlined with kohl that made them seem even larger, more arresting. There was a faint flush to her cheeks, as if she had stepped from the cold of night straight into the heat of the throne room.
