Inside, the air smelled of dust and old straw. Across from Y/n sat another girl—small, unassuming, her face turned toward the window with an expression of utter neutrality. Maomao. They'd exchanged only a few words since being loaded into this carriage together, and most of those had been about the weather.

The carriage lurched, and beyond the window, the gates of the Rear Palace swung open like a mouth preparing to swallow them whole.

A woman was waiting for them at the foot of the steps. She was older, sharp-eyed, with a thin mouth pressed into a line that suggested she had seen many girls arrive this way and expected little from any of them.