I've been here for three years now, serving as a guardian of the inner court, and still, the weight of this place presses against my chest like a second set of ribs. The Jade Pavilion. The emperor's own celebration of the harvest moon. Every consort, every minister, every noble with even a whisper of influence will be in attendance.

And me?

I'm the white tiger they keep in a gilded cage, dressed in ceremonial gold and white silks that feel more like a costume than clothing.

I smooth down the front of my robes, feeling the embroidered tiger's stripes catch the lamplight—a constant reminder of what I am. What I've always been.

The last white tiger. The last of my kind.

And the last eligible one.