The River Pavilion sat at the edge of the city where the river widened and the banks turned to polished stone. It was an old structure, built in the style of a dynasty three generations removed, with curved roof tiles the color of jade and columns wrapped in carved peonies. The kind of place that announced, without words, that the people inside it had been powerful for a very long time.
I arrived with Shen Bao as my escort, my robes a deliberate choice: deep midnight blue edged in silver, the colors of a household that was not in mourning and was not hiding. The invitation we had secured listed us simply as a family of standing. No more, no less. It was enough.
