I was awakened by the bright rays of mid-morning sun filtering through the holes in the ceiling and the rips in the paper windows. For a moment, I forgot where I was and merely lay still, reveling in the unexpected warmth.

How long had it been since I'd slept through the night? Certainly not since XiXi's death. But perhaps earlier even? Perhaps not since that snowy day two years ago, when I sat before the executioner's platform and watched Duke—disheveled and bloodied as he was—kneel before us and have his head clean sliced off. It rolled round and round on the ground, dying the snow a nauseous brown red; the Queen had smiled very coolly; Father looked exultant; I fought the urge to scream. Then they brought up Zhao Yun, whose handsomeness was disguised by a layer of grime and whose sharp grey eyes were wild with rage and despair. And I, who wasn't ordinarily very brave, had abruptly stood up and cried—

But come to think of it, where was Zhao Yun? I rolled up and stared about the quiet, sun drenched room. His small bundle of stuff had disappeared, so it appears that all he left behind was me. Stay with me until the end, he had said last night? A fleeting sadness—I shall be alone after all—then a pat on the back. Good job Shuang, you were right all along not to trust him, how wise you've grown, etc.

The door suddenly creaked open, and there he was again, his handsome face scrubbed clean, his raven hair still damp. He laughed at me and shook his head ruefully: Still not up? We leave when you're ready.

Ah, so he hadn't left just yet, I thought with a twinge of disappointment. Well, it was only a matter of time.

***

The forest, having cast off the mask of night, transformed into a sun-dappled woodland of wonder. The leaves swirled in the crisp autumnal breeze and lay to rest at our feet, forming a shimmering carpet of gold. He walked in front, turning to me occasionally with his lips upturned at the corners, as if he were beholding a small child. He always did think me a child.

The town was in full swing by the time we arrived. No longer lit by lurid lanterns, it had recovered its quaint provincial charm: along the main street, a colorful produce market laid out by peasants from the hinterland, and behind that, rows of shops and restaurants overflowing with people. Here, a farmer selling eggs by the dozen, there, old ladies bargaining over sugared plums.

We took a seat at a stall by the road and ordered two bowls of noodles.

"You might not like it," Yun cautioned. He needn't have worried though. I was never a picky eater, and besides, four days on the run would have starved that out of me.

As we waited, I glanced around listlessly. My attention was unwittingly captured by a strange sight by the town gates. Two men had just walked through, leading a pair of horses by the reins. And what magnificent horses they were! Blue-blooded akhal-teke, golden manes shimmering under the sun as they engaged in an elegant canter. A rare sights, in the capital, much less in a town like this. They were imported from out west and only the noblest of the noblemen had a chance of owning them. My brothers had a few and, come to think of it, so did Zhao Yun. Once, even I had asked for one, so bewitched was I by their beauty and power, but that had been silly. Girls have no use for such horses, I was told.

The men who led the horses could have been Zhao Yun, back in his prime. They were tall and regal, dressed in rich sables and ermines. When I squinted I could see that at least one of them, the one up front, was also uncommonly handsome, with a cold solemnity that lent him an attractive, unapproachable air. Who could they be? Certainly no peasants or townsfolk. Perhaps military...

My thoughts were interrupted by the server sliding a steaming bowl of noodles before me. The men and their horses were promptly forgotten—never had I been so enticed by mere beef and flour.

When I'd taken a few bites, Zhao Yun suddenly remarked, "You were looking at them."

I looked inquiringly at him through a bite of noodle.

"The men at the gates. Of course, they were handsome," he suggested, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes.

I barely managed to hold in a snort. Straight faced, I said quietly, "It's just that I fear they might be robbed, dressed like that and with those horses."

This being satisfactory, he turned back to pick at his own noodles.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

***

Zhao Yun has once been praised as being the most handsome man in the kingdom. Not having seen all the men in the kingdom, I can neither confirm nor deny. It's true though that he was tall in an elegant, reedy way—more so than my brothers—and had those sharp, aristocratic features that drew blushes from young ladies at court.

Like me, for example. When we first met, I had just turned fourteen and was ordered to show my face for the first time at the annual feast of the hunt.

It was a lush summer day, the kind of day that was rare in the Rong, where eight months out of the year was frigid and snow-laden. There was a part of me that was excited to sit outside in the radiant blooming gardens under the warm sun. The greater part of me, though, was jittery and wanted nothing more than to run from the watchful eyes of the shrewd nobles and their children, from the two-faced political speech they uttered, from the undercurrent of tension that pulsed through the whole affair.

For years, Father had clean forgotten about me. XiXi said it was great that he finally remembered and had fished me out of obscurity.

It's your chance, you know, she said in that matter-of-fact way of hers. You don't want to die here, in your rooms, all alone. That would be the worst fate. Maybe someone will take an interest in you. Maybe you'll marry well after all.

That was her mantra in those days. If I could just marry well, find myself a high-ranked husband, everything could be salvaged. My childhood years of lonely sequestration in my gilded chambers would be all worth it. With marriage comes power.

I wasn't entirely sold, but I was a silly girl of fourteen and there was still that bit of hope in me. Anyway, I subscribed from a young age to the philosophy of you go along to get along.

The King and the Queen sat up high on a dais at the front of the gardens. Us four royal children sat in a row on one side, followed by the children of other nobles according to their rank.

Jiang, the youngest of my three older brothers and the son of the Queen, sat to my left. For as long as I could remember, he'd hated me. I'm told it's his mother who encourages the hate and the little tricks he plays on me, because I look like my dead mother, whom she'd never forgiven for stealing the King's affections.

Jiang smirked ludicrously at me throughout the feast. He was up to something again, I thought with dread. I just knew it. Sometimes, I thought it'd be nice to marry off just so I can get away from him and his malicious laughter. But what was it this time?

Halfway through the feast, I found out.

Out of nowhere, while I wasn't looking, he deposited a small green snake onto my table. I watched with growing horror as it slithered up the platters of food, leaving a trail of slime. It stared me in the face and hissed. I let out a sharp scream at the sight of its forked tongue.

The feast came to a standstill, all eyes on me. Jiang was snickering softly; Father looked enraged; and everyone else wore sly grins of amusement. So that's the Princess, they must have thought. What an uncouth child. An embarrassment.

Then suddenly, just as the snake raised itself to my face, a hand shot out from my right and grab the snake by its neck, pulling it back. Suppressing a gasp, I turned gingerly and saw a languid youth take up his meat knife and slice the snake's head off.

He smiled at me, his cat like eyes curving into magnetic crescents, his hand still holding the wriggling body of the reptile, which he soon tossed aside with a careless flick of his wrist. "It's all right now, Your Highness," he said, his gentle voice soothing as a cup of warm tea.

There followed a torrent of whispers, and to my infinite gratitude, Jiang ceased his infernal laughter.

"Thank you," I had whispered with a deep blush, barely able to look at him.

His eyes twinkled. "It's my honor."

***

The whole thing was cringeworthy now that I think about it.

We spent the afternoon meandering through the shops, picking up some heavy boots, a thicker cloak for me, and some dry provisions for the road. No one recognized us, thankfully, though one of the shopkeepers did mention that a few days ago, imperial guards had barged in the city looking for a girl with large eyes and long hair in wedding robes.

"You two young men wouldn't have seen her on the road, would you?" he asked. Yun and I shared a look and shook our heads.

Everywhere we went, the women fawned over Yun and largely ignored me, his unimpressive younger "brother." This seemed to cheer him up immensely and, by the time evening descended, he was all smiles again.

"So tomorrow, we can depart at dawn for Chen An. From there, it'll only be a few leagues from Shan Yu, which is strictly Wei territory. They won't find us there."

I crinkled my nose in thought, musing softly, "I'm not so sure. We know it's the Queen, but perhaps she blamed the attack on the Wei? Father's wanted to send troops there for awhile--"

"Aren't you clever," he interrupted, amused. "It's a waste that the King doesn't take you as an adviser."

Don't I know it.

"So perhaps," I continued, "it's better if we--"

"Wait," Zhao Yun said, stopping abruptly. "Someone's following us."

My heart constricted and I looked around nervously at the busy little street with meandering townspeople. Nothing seemed amiss, though now everyone appeared suspicious.

"Look," his eyes alert, "I'll distract them and lead them away. You keep walking, back to the temple. You'll be safe there."

"What, by myself? I can't--what if--"

"You'll be fine," he said with a quick pat on my shoulder. "I'll come find you."

Then he darted away into a side alley like a flash of lightening and faded into the night. I stood motionless for a few minutes, staring after him. Nothing in the little street appeared different, no one else had moved at all. Only he was gone.

Was there really someone following us, I began to wonder, or had Zhao Yun lied to steal away for a few moments? And if so, why . . . ?