It's an unaccountable cruelty, Claudius thinks. When he first heard Lan Wangji's mother was a prisoner, he found it easy to imagine -- some wives are little more than prisoners of war, taken from conquered countries and kept under watch and strictures until they've proven loyal. Some kings will declare their own queens traitors and, too soft-hearted to have them executed, make them languish in towers instead. The Cloud Recesses seem a civilized place, but not above such genteel barbarism. A soft-hearted clan leader could have an enemy wife, and two children by her, and still deny her freedom. It could even be considered a kindness, to let her to see those children's faces a fleeting once-a-month.

But what she got were glimpses of her children growing older. Month by month, each time a little taller, fitted with new robes and new manners, more and more suited for a world she could never be a part of. Was that kindness? Or further punishment? Was it a kindness to Lan Zhan?

When she died the elders told me she was gone, Lan Wangji said. Xiongzhang says she will be gone again today. Gone. What an unenlightening word, and there’s the cruelty. Every mother dies before her children, but how did Madam Lan die? What were her last wishes? Did she have time to speak them, and if she did, why couldn’t she speak to her children? Why weren’t they given anything but that vague word, gone?

Lan Zhan’s hand is so tiny in his, it quickens Claudius’s protective instinct. All he can do is be a gentle guide. “Tell me of thy last meeting with thy mother, Lan Zhan. How was she?”