Wei Ling shook his head, his face hard. "Stories won't help us now. Pei Rong's coming for it. If he takes it—"
Zhao Yan nodded once, his eyes never leaving the token. "Then he'll have the empire in his hands. The token is more than a symbol. It binds the loyalty of the old houses—no one will challenge him if he holds it."
He reached out, his fingers hovering just above the cool, luminous surface.
In that moment, it felt as if every breath he had ever taken, every oath he had ever sworn, had led him to this one instant.
The room was utterly silent, the world beyond the doors forgotten.
He thought of his father's hand on his shoulder all those years ago. Of the weight of the empire, of every life that would be shaped by the hand that took the Jade Token.
He let his breath out slowly.
And then, a voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Not so fast."
Zhao Yan froze, his fingers an inch from the token.
