"Empress—there's trouble in the roses!" Sun Qiaoqiao shouted, tumbling into the garden with mud on her sleeves and panic in her voice.
"Tell me quickly," Ye Shurong said, stepping out from behind a trellis, sleeves clean, expression amused. "Which roses died today?"
"A guard and I—caught," Sun panted. "De Consort's people—They're crowing already."
"Show me," Ye ordered.
They reached the flowerbed where a low hedge had been trampled into a crooked line. A young palace guard crouched over Sun Qiaoqiao, holding a torn cloth against her arm. He froze when he saw Ye Shurong.
"Move back," a woman in polished silk snapped. Fu Jin's retinue cut across the path with practiced malice. "This is a shameful sight. The Empress should see how lax the palace has become."
"Fu Jinchun," Ye said as she approached. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your inspection?"
De Consort Fu made a small bow that did nothing to soften the words she threw. "Empress, I found this maid in a most compromising state with a guard. This is indecency. It must be punished."
"How compromising?" Ye asked. Her tone was light. Her eyes were not.
"A servant and a guard together in the roses, the night—" one of Fu's ladies leaned forward and added relish. "They were entangled. A man of his station with a maid. The law is clear."
"Are you sure you won't confuse romance with improper conduct?" Ye asked. "You know
