The Bright Moon Imprisoned Behind Palace Walls

The night we first met, he gazed at me across nine palace gates, starlight scattered in his eyes.

I clenched the dagger hidden in my sleeve and pretended to spill my wine by accident onto the hem of his dragon-patterned robe.

When our fingertips touched, his lashes quivered. “Princess, you can’t win this game of chess.”

Later, I knelt in the snow and begged him to take me away, only to hear his favored concubine ask from inside, laughing, “My lord, why do you always look toward the palace walls?”

He replied, “I’m watching... a little bird that doesn’t know when to give up.”