Chapter 158: Queen of Ashes

The throne room was quiet.

It was always quiet now. Li Hua had seen to that. The guards spoke in whispers. The servants moved like shadows. No one laughed. No one argued. No one did anything without her permission.

She liked it that way.

She leaned back against the jade throne, her fingers tracing the carved armrest. Once, this throne had belonged to the Jade Jaguar Kings. Their symbols were still there, buried beneath layers of bear fur and dark paint, if you knew where to look.

She knew where to look.

She had spent five years learning every secret of this place. Every passage. Every weakness. Every soul she could buy or break or bury.

Five years.

She turned the iron crown in her hands. It was heavy. Ugly. Nothing like the delicate gold pieces she used to wear when she was the Bear King’s mate.

Mate.

The word tasted like ash.

She had been his mate for years. Years of standing in his shadow, smiling at his allies, soothing his enemies, running his territory while he pretended he was the one in charge.

And what had it gotten her?

A cold bed. A distracted lover. A rival who had stolen his attention without even trying.

Bai Yue.

Li Hua’s grip tightened on the crown.

The cursed female. The one who had followed Tiě Xióng around like a lovesick pup, sending gifts, writing letters, throwing herself at him with absolutely no dignity.

Li Hua had hated her then.

But hate was simple. Hate was clean.

What she felt now was something else entirely.

She remembered the night everything changed.

Tiě Xióng had come back from Thousand Fang looking like a different bear. His eyes were distant. His voice was soft. He kept staring at the wall, lost in thought.

“What happened?” she had asked.

“Nothing,” he had said.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying. I’m… thinking.”

“About what?”

He had looked at her then. And for the first time in months, his eyes were confused.

“She’s different,” he had said. “Bai Yue. She’s not the same female.”

Li Hua’s blood had gone cold.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. She just… she changed. She fought a hydra. She made friends with dragons. She has a family now. Cubs. A mate. Multiple mates.” He had shaken his head, almost smiling. “She’s happy.”

She’s happy.

The words had burned.

Li Hua had smiled. She had nodded. She had kissed his cheek and told him she was glad he’d had a productive trip.

And then she had started planning.

The first year was the hardest.

She couldn’t just leave. Tiě Xióng would have noticed. He would have asked questions. He might have even tried to stop her.

So she stayed. She played the role of the loyal mate. She cooked his meals. She warmed his bed. She smiled at his jokes and laughed at his stories and pretended not to notice when he looked at the eastern horizon and sighed.

But at night, when he was asleep, she worked.

Letters. Messages. Promises wrapped in silk and delivered by shadows.

The southern jungles were unstable. The Jade Jaguar King was old, his heirs were weak, and his enemies were many. All they needed was a leader. Someone with vision. Someone ruthless.

Someone who understood that power wasn’t taken.

It was stolen.

~

The second year, she made her move.

She didn’t kill the Jade Jaguar King herself. That would have been messy. Traceable. Instead, she whispered in the right ears. She loosened the right tongues. She let the king’s enemies believe the coup was their idea.

They were fools.

They thought they were using her. They thought she was just a bear, a woman, a disposable asset.

They learned.

When the palace fell, when the king’s blood ran down the throne room steps, when the usurpers turned to claim their prize—

She was already there.

Waiting.

“I believe,” she had said, stepping out of the shadows, “that throne belongs to me.”

The usurpers had laughed.

She had killed the first one before his laughter finished. The second one ran. The third one begged.

She let him live.

She needed someone to spread the word.

~

The fifth year, she found the assassin.

He was a jaguar, old and bitter, with a scar across his throat that had ruined his voice. He had served the old king. He had survived the coup by playing dead.

He knew things.

He knew about the nursemaid who had fled with the infant prince. He knew about the caves where she had hidden. He knew about the child—Tao Zi—the last of the royal line.

“Find him,” Li Hua had ordered. “Bring him to me. Alive.”

The assassin had bowed. “And if he resists?”

“Then break his legs. I don’t care how you deliver him. Just deliver him.”

The assassin had left.

He never came back.

Li Hua had sent others. Some returned empty-handed. Some didn’t return at all.

But eventually, she learned.

The boy was in Thousand Fang.

With her.

Before that, she built her army.

Sun Bears from the western mountains. Rogue jaguars from the southern swamps. Mercenaries and outcasts and anyone who wanted gold more than they wanted to live.

She trained them. She armed them. She pointed them east.

And she waited.

The Blood Moon was coming. The ancient seal on the Heart of the Jade was weakening. Soon, she would have the power to destroy everything Bai Yue loved.

Not just Tiě Xióng’s attention.

Everything.

Now, she sat on her stolen throne, in her stolen temple, wearing her stolen crown.

And below her, in the darkness, a snow leopard cub waited in a cage.

Bai Yue’s cub.

Li Hua smiled.

“You took everything from me,” she murmured to the empty room. “My mate. My dignity. My future.”

She stood, the iron crown heavy on her head.

“Now I take everything from you.”

The door opened.

Grunt stepped inside, his massive shoulders hunched. “Your Majesty. The cub is secure.”

“Good.”

“The guards are in position. The traps are set.”

“Good.”

“The lowlanders…” He hesitated. “They’re closer than expected. They have a guide. Someone who knows the old paths.”

Li Hua’s eyes narrowed. “A guide?”

“A pangolin. A girl. She shifts.”

Líng.

Li Hua had heard whispers of the spirit-guardians, the ancient creatures bound to the jungle paths. She had thought they were myths.

Apparently not.

“Kill her,” Li Hua said.

“We’ve tried. She’s… ..slippery.”

“Then try harder.”

Grunt bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He left.

Li Hua turned back to the throne.

She thought of Tiě Xióng. Of the way he had looked at her when she told him she was leaving. Of the way he had said her name, Li Hua, don’t do this, as if she was the one making a mistake.

Fool, she thought. You never understood. You never saw what I was building.

You never saw what I could become.

She sat down, her fingers tracing the armrest.

Below, in the darkness, she heard a sound.

Soft. Small.

A child crying.

Ruì Xuě.

She smiled.

“Cry,” she whispered. “Cry for your mother. Let her hear you.”

The sound stopped.

Li Hua’s smile widened.

“Good boy,” she murmured. “You’re learning.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes.

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