At our daughter's funeral, my husband, the Grand Tutor, suddenly received an urgent message delivered by express courier from a hundred li away. Even my usually composed and self-possessed husband turned pale as he read it. He hurriedly took off his white mourning clothes and left without giving me a chance to question him. I stood there holding our daughter's memorial tablet, my fingertips white from gripping it so tightly. A secret order from the Emperor? My father is the Emperor's uncle. My husband is only the Crown Prince's Grand Tutor. What could be so urgent that he would ignore even the day of our daughter's burial? I wanted to see what secret order had left him so panicked.
