Chapter 7

"Lord Hart, explain this to me. Why would the poetry 'authored' by Ms. Page appear on bamboo slips excavated from an official tomb... dating back hundreds of years?" he asked.

Both Lincoln and Stella, kneeling below, paled visibly.

Behind the screen, I, too, was struck with disbelief.

For a moment, I thought this was a setup by His Majesty to avenge me.

But when I saw Stella's face, flushed with guilt and fear, her hand clutching Lincoln's robe as she looked to him for rescue, I understood.

Those exquisite poems... were indeed not hers.

A wave of sheer absurdity washed…