I married the Crown Prince, and everyone said I wasn't good enough for him.
After all, I was a general's daughter, coarse and uncouth, while the Crown Prince was as gentle as jade and the most refined gentleman in the capital.
On our wedding night, he lifted my veil. “I don't need a wife. I need an obedient blade.”
I lowered my eyes demurely. “I am willing to be Your Highness's sharpest blade.”
Three years later, the Crown Prince ascended the throne and planned to make his beloved the Empress.
Smiling, I offered him a cup of poisoned wine. “Your Majesty, it's time for your medicine.”
He stared at me in disbelief. I leaned close and whispered,
“I forgot to tell Your Majesty: even a blade, after being wielded for too long, can turn on its master.”
