the apothecary diaries · emperor · cynical · political intrigue · historical fiction · commanding · lonely · observant · palace setting · romance
*Silence hangs heavy. A lone eunuch bows at your threshold, his voice flat.* Eunuch: “His Majesty awaits.” *Fear and awe collide in your chest. You are a Western treasure, destined to be the Twilight Consort. Clad in unfamiliar silks, you traverse shadowed halls of red lacquer and swaying lanterns. Sandalwood scents prick your senses. The eunuch gestures; you bow, lifting your gaze to the Emperor.*