Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A half-day’s journey separated the Tyrtellian border from Point 38; perhaps a mite less. Han Wenqing had made good time, but the sun had long since disappeared behind the mountains by the time he saw any indication of civilization other than the shoddy dirt road beneath his horse’s hooves.

This deep into the Damalgan Range, the air was colder and thinner than he was accustomed to. He was Tyrtellian through and through, but he had been born in the Almarshan Desert. Some part of him had never gotten used to the way the mountains’ chill sank into bone and lingered. It was not for no reason that he wore a cloak almost all the time.

In the darkness, his enhanced senses allowed him to navigate the somewhat treacherous terrain. Point 38 was not awfully difficult to reach: that would defeat its purpose. However, it was well-hidden and almost annoyingly out of the way, requiring him to take the less-traveled paths through the wilderness.

Han Wenqing worried for almost two hours that he had gotten turned around somehow, but eventually he noticed tiny talismans hanging from branches here and there, almost unnoticeable in the shadows. Then he came across a post standing tall on the side of the road, more talismans pinned to its wooden surface. Symbols for protection and clear sight decorated the stone charms.

Superstitious, in his opinion, but the post was how he knew he was close.

He didn’t realize how close until somebody stepped out from the cover of the trees, startling both him and his horse.

“Your Majesty.”

Han Wenqing released the hilt of the dagger sheathed at his hip and slowly drew his hand out from underneath his cloak.

A young woman stood a deferential distance away, eerily still. Her shape was outlined in moonlight, but it was impossible to discern her features until he drew nearer, his horse snorting fussily as he complied.

She had pale eyes—some mysterious shade of blue—and pale skin. Dark, cropped hair added a certain sharpness to what may have otherwise been a delicate appearance.

Han Wenqing dismounted, his boots thumping against the ground. The chirping of insects and other nighttime creatures had a calming effect on him, such that he sounded not at all as disgruntled as he felt when he said, “I suppose you’ve been sent to meet me?”

The woman bowed. “That is indeed the case. You may call me Soft Mist.”

The introduction was somewhat unexpected, but Han Wenqing supposed it made sense to use a code name. “I am Han Wenqing.”

When she straightened, Soft Mist had a somewhat amused look in her eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. Come with me, the safehouse isn’t far.”

Han Wenqing swept his cloak behind him as he followed her, his horse’s reins in his hand. It was then that he noticed she was as scentless as a common beta.

That…didn’t make much sense. He understood that members of the Phoenix had to be enhanced in their majority; they wouldn’t be such a force to be reckoned with otherwise. And the lack of scent was more suspicious than reassuring to his nose. It was only logical, therefore, to surmise that Soft Mist was no beta.

Had these agents assumed they were working with a halfwit? What was the point of this deception? Soft Mist was either an alpha or an omega; did they want to make him guess which was her designation?

The deception, obvious as it was, shouldn’t have irked him as much as it did. He was the king of Tyrtell and the Phoenix were gaining notoriety in the criminal underground. In light of their vastly different standings, a certain level of secrecy was to be expected, he reminded himself.

At least Soft Mist was more respectful than he had imagined an agent of the Phoenix to be. They could get along.

Han Wenqing was about to ask how far was “not far” when Point 38 emerged from around the next bend in the road. It was a broken-down building with little to recommend it as a shelter other than the fact that it was upright. Ancient traces of paint clung to its corners, and the wooden boards nailed onto random sections of wall indicated that repair jobs, when they occurred, were hasty.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Soft Mist said quietly, “but that’s the intent.”

“Hm. Where should I leave my horse?”

“Just over there if that’s all right. I’ll settle him into the barn in a bit.”

After the horse was secured to a nearby tree, they came to the door. It was barely noticeable, just as rundown as everything else, but the way it blended into the wall was admittedly ingenious.

Soft Mist entered before him, then gestured him inside with a sweep of her hand. By now, Han Wenqing’s annoyance had faded into curiosity. Much of his life prior to ascending the throne had been spent engaged in activities of questionable legality (at best), but his experience with hideaways began and ended with the Tyrtellian Civil War.

The interior of the building was not quite so poor as its exterior might lead one to believe. It was, in fact, very sturdy and serviceable, and certainly larger than it looked.

It sported a rather odd layout, though. The front door opened into a hallway, which led to another hallway, and another hallway beyond that. Soft Mist navigated them with a deftness that spoke of her familiarity with the location, and Han Wenqing found himself wondering if all Phoenix safehouses were meant to be mazes.

Right when he was about to question the necessity of such measures—Point 38, at least, was hidden enough—they emerged into a wide open space with high ceilings, supply crates piled in the corners, and sparse furniture. A few lamps hung down from the exposed ceiling beams, swaying gently in the air, and a row of sleeping bags tucked up against the far wall rustled with movement.

Several pairs of eyes stared at him.

Han Wenqing stared back, caught somewhat off guard. He knew what ten people looked like; he’d faced thousands at a time, united in the capital or on the battlefield. Yet ten people seemed like a rather large amount when he recognized that he was responsible for them.

He was responsible for a whole country; it shouldn’t have shaken him so. But it did.

“Right this way.”

Soft Mist was standing at the wall near the entryway, in front of a door he had not noticed. Of course not, he thought disgustedly; he had been too distracted by the younglings. And it was unsettlingly dark in here besides.

When Soft Mist opened the door, a rectangle of warm light spilled out. Han Wenqing strode past her, curious as to who else of the Phoenix he was about to meet.

Inside were three large chairs arranged so they faced each other in a loose circle. Up against the plain walls were two cabinets and a small table that may have been a writing desk once upon a time. Compared to the modesty the rest of the building exuded, this study-like space seemed extravagant.

Standing near the middle of the room was a man.

His outfit was much more eye-catching than Soft Mist’s shapeless knee-length coat. He was dressed almost entirely in white, from his long-sleeved jacket with its wide lapels, to the shirt and vest he wore underneath, to the fitted trousers. But the utility belt slung around his hips was soft brown leather, as was the knife holsters on his left arm and thigh and his tall boots—dashes of darkness in an otherwise pale visage. The only outliers were the bright red scarf wrapped around his neck and the washed-out gray stitching on his coat.

Gold earrings glinting, the man smiled casually and took a step forward. Soft Mist closed the door behind Han Wenqing and left the two of them alone.

“I’m Lord Grim,” said the man, holding out a hand. “I’m glad to speak to you in person, Your Majesty.”

Han Wenqing’s eyebrows almost flew off his face even as he calmly reached out to shake Lord Grim’s gloved hand.

This was, according to rumor, the leader of the Phoenix. Definitely enhanced, and dangerously intelligent. He was also the person Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie had been corresponding with for the past three weeks.

Like Soft Mist, however, his scent was little more than nothingness. Even a beta's scent would have more substance.

“The sentiment is shared,” Han Wenqing said for politeness’s sake. A face-to-face meeting with Lord Grim was bound to be interesting, if nothing else.

Lord Grim moved back toward the chairs. Han Wenqing noticed that his jacket, which appeared short from the front, was longer in the back. He wondered what weapons Lord Grim could be hiding beneath all that cloth.

Well. Certainly no more weapons than Han Wenqing was hiding under his cloak.

“Do sit,” said Lord Grim. “We still have some matters to discuss before you meet the younglings.”

They made themselves comfortable in their chosen seats, right across from each other. Though there was only one lamp illuminating the room, it was just enough to highlight the startling gold of Lord Grim’s eyes.

“Go on,” Han Wenqing said after a beat of silence.

Lord Grim paused, then said, “Firstly, I’ll be the one accompanying you to the capital. I’m afraid the other agents present have work to attend to elsewhere. However, among the three of us, I have the most combat experience. I can say with the utmost confidence that you’ll be safe with me.”

Han Wenqing couldn’t help but snort. “I’m capable of ensuring my own safety.”

Lord Grim smiled. “I’ve no doubt, but protecting ten other people on the road may prove difficult even for a warrior as illustrious as you. And ideally…” Here Lord Grim made an expression of vague distaste. “Ideally, those younglings wouldn’t have to use violent force to defend themselves. Not for years yet. You understand?”

Han Wenqing pursed his lips and nodded. He didn’t want any of the younglings to get hurt, nor give them a reason to believe he couldn’t protect them. He was certain they would fight, if push came to shove—it was the least of what they were trained to do—but he could admit it would be nice not to have to worry about traumatizing a bunch of teenagers.

…Traumatizing them more, he should say.

“Wonderful. Secondly, we’ve managed to gather provisions for about twelve days of travel. We should be able to make it to the capital within that time. Unless, of course, you have reason to believe otherwise…?”

The look Lord Grim gave him was so pointed, it took all of Han Wenqing’s restraint not to scowl outright. How he could have learned about the assassination attempts in the capital so quickly, Han Wenqing might have killed to find out.

“I covered my tracks,” he replied coldly. “There should only be one person who knows where I am and the route I intend to take.”

Lord Grim seemed skeptical, but rather than comment on it, he only said, “We’ve already picked out a route, so of the many things Adviser Zhang may know, our movements aren’t among them.”

Han Wenqing frowned. “You take too many liberties.”

“I take my responsibilities seriously. The route I’ve laid out is one that will take us near some allies we can trust, in the event of an incident.”

Allies… Han Wenqing frowned. Other Phoenix agents, or affiliates? If this was Point 38, did that mean the Phoenix had thirty-seven other safehouses scattered across the continent? How many of them were in Tyrtell?

A certain level of secrecy is to be expected, he told himself sternly. Stop thinking too much.

Lord Grim was watching him closely. Something about his gaze was…challenging. Han Wenqing had to fight the urge not to bristle in return.

He drew his cloak tighter around his neck, letting the brush of the furred mantle distract him from his admittedly unfriendly thoughts. He didn’t know why he was suddenly tense, as if preparing for combat. But he’d not allow his instincts to lead him astray: Han Wenqing would be better served compromising with Lord Grim than arguing with him.

Han Wenqing let out a carefully even breath and said, “Then I’ll follow your lead. As long as we arrive at Thousand Peak City in one piece, I will count our mission a success.”

Some of the tension immediately drained from the room. Lord Grim’s stiff expression softened with approval and surprise for a moment. It seemed the wariness was mutual.

Han Wenqing internally celebrated this minor progress. Lord Grim had surely expected an argument, a show of temper, but he would find Han Wenqing wasn’t like the petty kings of other countries; nor like the proud, thoughtless alpha warriors who treated every issue as aggressively as a battlefield encounter. He wouldn’t quarrel over a triviality; he was committed to their mission.

The sooner Lord Grim could trust in that, the better they would work together.

“May I know the details of this route, or will it be a surprise?” Han Wenqing asked archly.

Lord Grim leaned back in his chair with a hum. “Well, we won’t be going straight down Thousand Peak Pass, not as long as we can avoid it. Most of the first half of our journey will be spent traveling along the foothills. Our first stop within your borders will be Dolaski, and then, if nothing goes awry, Chalk Town, where some contacts of mine can put us up comfortably. Afterward, we’ll be close enough to the capital that we can be a bit more brazen.”

Han Wenqing nodded as he contemplated this route. He was perfectly familiar with Thousand Peak Pass. Though small compared to the whole of Tyrtell, it was also where most of the country’s population resided. The closer to the capital they got, the more densely packed the towns and cities would become, and once they were past Chalk Town, they could easily blend in with other travelers.

“Any objections?” Lord Grim asked after Han Wenqing had been quiet for a while.

Han Wenqing raised his eyebrows the slightest bit. “None. It’s quite in line with what I had planned.”

“Is it?”

“Hm. I wouldn’t have been as subtle. Frankly, I don’t believe there is an urgent need to conceal our approach up to Chalk Town. But I can’t fault your caution.”

Lord Grim seemed satisfied with that answer, going by the way the faint upturn of his lips turned into a reserved smile. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. I can only hope our journey will be as peaceful as you imagine.”

“Whatever happens, I will take care of it,” Han Wenqing said firmly.

But Lord Grim only frowned. “What I need is for you to take care of them. They are the priority.”

Han Wenqing paused at this. After a moment, however, he nodded. “And so I will act in their best interests, this I assure you.”

By the slant of Lord Grim’s slow smile, he didn’t quite believe it. Han Wenqing didn’t think he would. How would a king ever deem it appropriate to endanger his life in favor of people who weren’t even his recognized subjects?

But they were going to be his subjects soon enough. That was the whole point.

“Very well,” Lord Grim said as he stood, apparently eager to move on. “As enlightening as this conversation has been, I do believe it’s time to introduce you to our charges.”

Lord Grim opened the door and stepped out, clearly expecting Han Wenqing to follow. Han Wenqing huffed and got to his feet. This man was clearly not as deferential as Soft Mist. The king in him was displeased, but he didn’t take offense. He wasn’t Lord Grim’s king, after all, and this wasn’t his territory, literally and figuratively.

From the shadows that lay outside of the lamps’ reach stared the watchful eyes he had faced earlier. Lord Grim approached slowly, Han Wenqing a small distance behind him.

One of the pairs of eyes detached from the group, manifesting into a body and then a face as they padded closer. The face was that of a young man, maybe a teenager. He had dark, soft hair—though not as dark as Lord Grim’s—and a gentle expression.

“This is Ash,” Lord Grim introduced. “He’s spent the most time with the younglings.”

Han Wenqing nodded his acknowledgment.

Ash sketched a brief bow at Han Wenqing, then turned to Lord Grim uncertainly. “Is everything…?”

“Yes. Why don’t you make His Majesty known to them? It will go better if you do it.”

Han Wenqing was focused on discerning the shapes and scents of the people behind Ash, but he spared a surprised glance for Lord Grim.

It did not go unnoticed. “I arrived only hours before you,” Lord Grim explained shortly, “so I haven’t had the chance to learn much more than their names. Ash is better suited for introductions.”

“They can hear you,” a voice called out sullenly. “Why don’t you just hurry up and get the greetings out of the way?”

Ash coughed and looked over his shoulder. “Lord Grim is only being considerate. Let’s not be rude, all right?”

“It’s rude to talk about people like they’re not there.”

“I apologize,” Lord Grim said with a slightly raised voice. To his credit, he sounded only a tiny bit amused and not at all impatient. “However, some explanations will be necessary for this operation, and I’m the one whose job it is to give explanations.”

There was more than one grunt from the group. At this point, Han Wenqing’s eyes had finally adjusted to the odd lighting situation—much harsher than the gentle starlight outside—and he could see the younglings with some clarity.

They were, it appeared, all adolescents, apart from a single small child who looked to be about ten (not that Han Wenqing had enough experience with children to really judge). Their scents were a bit muffled, but he knew they were all enhanced. A majority were alphas, and there was at least one omega.

It was exactly as he’d been told. They were truly somebody’s escaped pet projects, left with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The Rift Wars were three years past; what was the likelihood some of them had seen a battlefield?

Child soldiers trained in a time of tentative peace… Han Wenqing felt out of his depth, but he could hardly admit to that, could he? So Han Wenqing said to Ash, “By all means, introduce us.”

Ash’s naturally large eyes widened, and he glanced between Lord Grim and Han Wenqing before nodding. “Right…”

Ash took the lead, Han Wenqing right behind him and Lord Grim behind them both. Now that he had finished his preliminary assessment of the younglings, he realized Ash was the same as Lord Grim and Soft Mist: scentless and well-hidden.

Han Wenqing sighed. He wasn’t especially interested in getting to know anyone but the younglings. Before coming here, he had made all kinds of promises to leave well enough alone. It just rankled a little that these agents insisted on the charade regardless.

Well. Perhaps it was force of habit. He could understand people with their pastimes developing lifestyles based on caution.

And it seemed that, for one reason or another, they had been helping the younglings conceal their scents, too. For now, they were only dampened enough not to be immediately obvious to anyone in the vicinity, but they should be identifiable up close.

Han Wenqing stopped when Ash did, a comfortable distance from the group, who arranged themselves into a line. They had been sitting on their sleeping bags, huddled together, but now they stood and spread out a bit. Some, however, stood out more boldly than others. A few subtly used their companions as shields.

It took effort, but Han Wenqing reined in some of the steel he normally projected and tried to show them… Well, not a friendly face, because Han Wenqing wasn’t good at summoning those kinds of expressions, but something less haughty, less cold.

He let down his guard, just a bit, and allowed his posture to relax enough that some of the inherent threat of his presence could be overlooked.

Ash gestured at a brown-haired boy whose dark gaze was rather intense.

“This is Qiu Fei, fifteen years old.”

Han Wenqing nodded at the boy, who nodded gravely back, never taking his eyes off him.

“Lu Hanwen, twelve years old. He’s the youngest here.”

Lu Hanwen was tiny, as Han Wenqing had previously observed, but he had a kind of wiry toughness to him that implied he’d already seen a lot of hardship. Something about him was strangely bright, though, and the hesitant smile he gave Han Wenqing was somehow relieving.

“Hello,” he chirped, waving halfheartedly.

“Hello.”

There was a hint of a smile in Ash’s voice when he spoke next. “Mo Fan, eighteen. He’s a quiet one.” A pause. “And an omega.”

At this distance, Han Wenqing had a hard time pinning down individual scents. Mo Fan’s was muddled enough by the others’ unique signatures that Han Wenqing wouldn’t have known him to be an omega if Ash hadn’t indicated as much.

Mo Fan seemed as cautious as Qiu Fei, though his expression was notably flatter. He hung back from the main group, sticking closer to the shadows’ depths. He was also rather short and slim, such that Han Wenqing wondered if he was malnourished.

When neither of them did or said anything, Ash moved on. “Er… This is Luo Ji, seventeen.”

“Good to meet you,” Luo Ji said, peering at Han Wenqing curiously. He seemed to mean it.

“Likewise.”

“And this is An Wenyi, eighteen. Though they seem a little mismatched, these two tend to stick together,” Ash said with some humor.

An Wenyi sniffed. “Somebody needs to keep an eye on him.” He studied Han Wenqing with a gaze only marginally less intense than Qiu Fei’s. “Your Majesty.”

“Don’t feel obligated to address me by title,” Han Wenqing said evenly. “In fact, it’s probably best if you don’t, especially when we’re on the road.”

There was a well of incredulity in the subtle arch of his eyebrow, but An Wenyi shrugged and nodded. “Hm.”

“The king here is undercover,” Lord Grim said from behind Han Wenqing, “so it’s best to treat him normally when we’re around other people.”

There were nods of assent down the line.

“All right, well, this—”

“I’m Tang Hao,” said the boy, squinting at Han Wenqing. “Sixteen, alpha.”

Now Han Wenqing was the one raising his eyebrow. “Hello, Tang Hao.” He thought this might be the same boy who berated them prior to the introductions.

Tang Hao grunted at him, mistrust clear on his face. His posture dripped hostility. If Han Wenqing were a lesser alpha, he may have felt threatened. In reality, he only felt sorry about how disconcerting Tang Hao must find all this.

Ash watched the interaction with a slight frown, but he chose not to comment and moved on.

“The young lady is Dai Yanqi, also sixteen.”

“Good evening,” Dai Yanqi said, then hurriedly followed up with, “Are all kings like you?”

Han Wenqing was a little taken aback. He wasn’t at all sure how to answer that question, but in the end, he went with the obvious truth: “No, not all.”

“Huh,” was her reply, and somehow Han Wenqing knew this was not the last he would hear of the topic. Dai Yanqi was clearly not as shy or withdrawn as her companions.

“Lou Guanning,” Ash said next, nodding at the boy in question. “Seventeen. His story is a little different…”

“I’m quite sure I was born into minor nobility,” said Lou Guanning readily enough. He was more outwardly at ease than the other younglings, his diction somewhat distinct. “But I don’t remember much about my family.”

This certainly hadn’t been mentioned to him. Han Wenqing glanced over his shoulder at Lord Grim, who only looked back impassively.

“We’ll see what we can do to find your family,” Han Wenqing said slowly, turning to regard Lou Guanning. “In fact, we’ll do our best for all of you.”

Surprisingly, it was Qiu Fei who spoke up. “Most of us don’t recall enough about our families to know who to look for.” More quietly, he added, “Besides, it’d be easier for them if we stayed away.”

Han Wenqing frowned, wishing to contradict that claim but ultimately unable to. Most of these younglings, and others like them, were born to beta parents. Families that could produce enhanced children every generation were nobility in most countries; a holdover from times long past, when the enhanced were the indisputable rulers of the continent.

Lou Guanning must be an exception. It was quite bold of traffickers to take a noble son, and that they succeeded was as infuriating as it was baffling. Scattered alphas and omegas with no background were much easier to steal, even if they were harder to find.

That being the case, the younglings’ families probably weren’t any more equipped to protect them now than they were when their children had been taken. While Han Wenqing knew they had been trained to protect themselves, it wasn’t exactly a simple matter for enhanced individuals to live in this world without backing. That was why many joined armies and paramilitary forces even when there was no draft or obligation to do so, hoping to make a name for themselves. Others married into nobility to gain access to allies and resources they would otherwise be deprived of.

Han Wenqing was aware that, likelier than not, the younglings before him would go down one of these two paths. But even if their choices were limited, at least they would have a choice in the first place.

“It would probably be easier,” Han Wenqing agreed eventually, “but that doesn’t mean you never have to see your families again. If we can find them, we will.”

“Whoever my family is, if I can at least let them know I’m alive…” Lou Guanning ducked his head, his voice rough.

Ash reached out to touch his shoulder gently. “I’m sure His Majesty will find a way.”

Han Wenqing wasn’t confident enough to make any promises, so he simply said, “Being a king has its benefits.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore Lord Grim chuckled at that. Han Wenqing didn’t turn to check.

“These last two are twins,” Ash said after Lou Guanning had composed himself. “Shu Kexin and Shu Keyi, fourteen. Shu Keyi is an omega as well. Um…separating them is ill-advised.”

That sounded like a lesson learned from experience. Han Wenqing was curious, but after taking a moment to study the rather unfriendly countenances of the sisters, he could already imagine the potential for trouble. While they didn’t radiate as much aggression as Tang Hao, they seemed twice as suspicious of him.

“I’ll take that into account,” Han Wenqing told Ash, though he looked into the sisters’ eyes as he spoke.

The alpha, Shu Kexin, harrumphed coldly, and Shu Keyi crossed her arms. “I’ll make it clear now,” said the former, “my sister is my priority. I don’t care what I have to do to keep her safe.”

Shu Keyi nodded in agreement.

“I understand,” said Han Wenqing. He didn’t have siblings of his own, but he had a whole country. That had to count for something. “All of you are my priority as well.”

“You can’t think we’re that naïve, can you?” asked An Wenyi with an air of indifference that seemed to be characteristic of adolescents everywhere. “You’re a king. Your own life comes first, and even if it didn’t, anyone is entitled to self-preservation.”

Han Wenqing narrowed his eyes and was about to say something—he didn’t quite know what—when Lord Grim piped up.

“That’s why I’m here. Even if His Majesty has his hands full, I can step in. And I’m no king.”

“You’re the leader of the Phoenix,” Dai Yanqi pointed out.

“The Phoenix can survive without me.” Lord Grim now stood on Ash’s other side, facing the group directly. “And despite what you think, a country can survive without its king. They’ll just put another one on the throne,” he added in a joking tone.

Han Wenqing wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that. It would certainly be better for his peace of mind if he didn’t assume Lord Grim found the possibility of his untimely demise a nonissue.

“I’m not sure why we’re all talking about dying in the first place,” Han Wenqing said after a moment. “The situation isn’t so dire, from what I understand.”

Lord Grim chuckled. “You’re right, I suppose.”

None of the younglings seemed inclined to contradict them, and instead just stared at them uncertainly. Han Wenqing forced himself not to cross his arms or otherwise react. He honestly didn’t know what else to say or do.

Ash was quick to take the initiative. “I’m going to prepare dinner. Would anyone like to help?”

Qiu Fei, Dai Yanqi, and Luo Ji stepped forward. They wasted no time in following Ash to the other side of the room, where they lit more lamps on the walls.

It looked like nothing less than a hasty retreat. Han Wenqing snorted softly and, with no other choice, turned to face Lord Grim.

Lord Grim merely tilted his head.

“I assume we’re leaving in the morning?”

“Naturally,” was Lord Grim’s reply.

It was a good thing Han Wenqing was already exercising his self-control, otherwise he’d be tempted to roll his eyes.

Instead, he turned back to the remaining younglings, who were already melting into the shadows and settling down.

He wracked his brain for something to say. Han Wenqing had never been good at dealing with younglings, not unless they were military, and twenty-somethings weren’t really younglings anyway. The noble sons and daughters he had met were conscientious of social status in all their interactions. Commoner children—well, Han Wenqing had had little to do with them since he became involved in politics and warfare. And that had been many years ago.

In the end, he managed to come up with something relevant but sufficiently cavalier: “Let’s hope for a pleasant journey.”

Chapter Text

Ye Xiu was up at first light, as was his preference. Today, though, he had insisted Tang Rou and Qiao Yifan join him before breakfast in Point 38’s makeshift study.

When Qiao Yifan came in from the communal area, he scanned Ye Xiu first, then the corners of the room. He offered only a quiet greeting before moving to light more candles. The building had no windows, so it was always dark indoors. The single lamp Ye Xiu used to read was apparently not good enough for Qiao Yifan.

Ye Xiu smiled to himself. He was sitting in his favorite chair with a few letters in his lap. He already knew their contents, but he skimmed through them again anyway, as was his custom.

Eventually, the door creaked open and in slipped Tang Rou with a nod of hello. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ye Xiu replied, setting the letters aside for the moment. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” echoed Qiao Yifan, finally taking a seat.

When they were all sitting, Ye Xiu first turned to Tang Rou. “You encountered nothing of interest during patrol?”

Ye Xiu already knew she hadn’t—she wouldn’t have waited until morning to tell them something was amiss.

“I didn’t,” Tang Rou confirmed. “All was quiet. Around midnight I did a second circuit and I just came back from a third. It appears the king wasn’t followed, and if there’s anyone looking for the younglings in this region, they haven’t caught on to us.”

Qiao Yifan blinked at her. “I hope you were able to get some sleep.”

Tang Rou smiled. “Don’t waste your concern on me—I’m quite all right.” Which seemed to be true. There weren’t even dark circles under her eyes.

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Qiao Yifan protested.

Before they could get into a tragically polite debate on the relevance of one’s concern regarding another’s long night, Ye Xiu addressed Qiao Yifan. “And how fared our charges throughout the night? Did they sleep well?”

Qiao Yifan was the only one of them who was sleeping in the communal area with the ten younglings. Besides this room, there were a few others for storage and sleeping scattered throughout the building, and Ye Xiu had chosen to rest in one. There were simply not a lot of ways to elegantly insert himself into the younglings’ routine, especially when Qiao Yifan had already taken the role of caretaker and protector. Ye Xiu was only a distant authority in their eyes; it was best if he didn’t intrude on them.

To maintain a safe distance, Ye Xiu had shared quarters with Tang Rou last night. Han Wenqing had been given the room next to them—and hadn’t that been a nerve-wracking experience, sleeping so close to one of his most competent adversaries, only a wall between them.

Former adversary, he reminded himself. He was no longer the enemy general to Han Wenqing’s warrior king. For all intents and purposes, they were strangers.

“They still have a habit of assigning someone to watch duty through the night. They even rotate shifts,” Qiao Yifan said with a huff. “But as a whole, they’re sleeping more soundly than they did when they first arrived here.”

Ye Xiu couldn’t help but sigh, sad and a little disappointed. It pained him that mere children felt the need to plan and prepare for potential attacks. He had received that kind of training at a young age, too, but his situation was…different.

“I suppose that’s to be expected,” Tang Rou said into the thoughtful silence that had befallen them.

Ye Xiu hummed. “I only hope they’ll be able to trust the king and I enough to follow our directions. Otherwise, this mission may end in failure, especially if we run into trouble.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Senior. You’re a very trustworthy person.”

Ye Xiu gave Qiao Yifan an arch look. Was that a jest?

Tang Rou grinned a little. “It’s true. Besides, I have no doubt the little ones appreciate competence. You’re the ideal companion for them.” She paused. “As is the king, I suppose.”

“They’ve been trained to respect perceived superiors,” Ye Xiu rebuked gently.

“It’s instinctive to want to put your faith in someone who is stronger than you. Prove yourself not to be a threat and they’ll accept you.” Tang Rou raised an eyebrow. “And I know you’re perfectly aware of this. It’s why you volunteered to escort them.”

There was a lot more to his decision than that and Tang Rou knew it, but Ye Xiu heard the unvoiced question and dutifully replied, “Right though you may be, it is also true that a conflict between myself and the king might inspire some feelings of…doubt in the younglings.”

“Do you expect a conflict to break out?” Qiao Yifan asked worriedly. “We might still be able to alter the plan…”

But Tang Rou was already shaking her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Indeed, changing the plan at this time wouldn’t bode well for our alliance with the king.” Ye Xiu frowned. “It’s not that I expect a conflict; it’s only that I’m quite used to viewing Han Wenqing as a personal threat. I’m confident that I can keep my reactions hidden from the younglings, but from Han Wenqing himself? Debatable.”

Ye Xiu was a good actor, but Han Wenqing was no slouch. His powers of observation shouldn’t be underestimated, and after years of war, his instinct for danger was fine-tuned.

“I didn’t know you were so familiar with each other. Do you think he might recognize you?” Tang Rou asked, and now even she sounded worried.

He wanted to say no, but Ye Xiu couldn’t reassure them with complete honesty. There was always a chance Han Wenqing would recognize him, regardless of what he did or didn’t do. There was always a chance that animosity might spark between them, regardless of what Han Wenqing did or didn’t know. So Ye Xiu only shrugged.

It was a chance he had to take. They had never had to relocate ten people at once to the same city. Was it the best idea to involve a warrior king plagued by assassins with a group of runaway child soldiers? No, but it was the best compromise they could reach.

The younglings had made it clear they wouldn’t be separated. Han Wenqing had made it clear he was the best person on his side to oversee their transfer. Ye Xiu put himself in the middle to steer them clear of undue strife, like assassination attempts on the road or underaged combatants getting lost in the wilderness.

Now, though, he wondered if joining this already volatile mixture was the same as adding fuel to the fire.

“Senior…”

“It’s too late to doubt my decision now,” Ye Xiu said at last. “Whatever happens, I’ll see the younglings safely to Thousand Peak City. Even if he knows who I am, I don’t believe Han Wenqing will betray his word. If he decides to actively pursue the Phoenix because of me…” Ye Xiu paused for a moment. “It’s possible we may have to withdraw from Tyrtell temporarily and take root somewhere else. But it’s not as if we never had to consider similar measures before.”

Tang Rou and Qiao Yifan glanced at each other, then at Ye Xiu. They nodded in acceptance.

“You’re the boss,” said Tang Rou. Her smile returned. “And we follow your lead for the same reasons those younglings will.”

“Now is not the time for sentimentality, agent,” Ye Xiu scolded, but his tone was amiable. Then, a little more seriously, he added, “Thank you for your trust in me. The younglings will be in good hands.”

“We know,” Qiao Yifan said warmly.

“Is that all, then?” Tang Rou asked. “Will you be leaving right after breakfast?”

“We will, but there is something else…”

Qiao Yifan and Tang Rou straightened.

Ye Xiu brandished one of the letters he’d been reading. “There is some concern over the new Eracenti general, Sun Xiang, who’s little more than a boy, apparently,” Ye Xiu said with a grimace.

“I’ve heard of him,” Tang Rou said. “Is something the matter…? Besides the obvious, of course.”

“It’s said he’s begun campaigning in the Tyrtellian borderlands.”

Qiao Yifan’s eyebrows rose. Tang Rou just blinked. “Isn’t Eracent in the midst of a civil war?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Ye Xiu replied. The words Eracent and civil war were enough to make him weary. He’d had quite enough of Eracent’s civil wars in his life.

Somewhat outraged, Tang Rou said, “That’s nonsense.”

“It’s always been Tao Xuan’s way,” Ye Xiu said, not a hint of his bitterness showing through his voice. “He uses conflict to incite the masses and frames the success of his warriors as a reflection of his own ability. Nothing unites a wary, broken people like military accomplishments. Everyone wants a part in the greatness. If Tao Xuan paints himself as the representation of greatness, more people will follow him.”

“And the other factions?”

“Their military power is slight. Tao Xuan controls the bulk of the Eracenti armies. He’s not going to back down, and he has no reason to.”

“Other than not tearing his own country apart,” muttered Qiao Yifan.

Ye Xiu sighed. “If he cared about collateral damage that much, we could have avoided a lot of strife these ten years. As it is, he’s using Sun Xiang not unlike how he used me. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the most recent reports on the situation.”

The two of them quietly contemplated this news. Ye Xiu didn’t speak about his past very openly, but his closest companions were aware of it. Everybody in the Phoenix was aware to some degree. It was a security risk, to be sure, but the knowledge of Ye Xiu’s experience cemented his position as their leader. Tang Rou had the right of it: strength inspired faith.

Unfortunately, Tao Xuan knew this principle all too well. In a way, Ye Xiu had learned its applications from him. Today’s society was conditioned to be intolerant of weakness, and that intolerance often outweighed the fear of subjugation by greater powers. The strong, or those who masqueraded as such, used this to their advantage. Sometimes they meant well, like Ye Xiu did with the Phoenix; sometimes they didn’t, and resorted to deplorable, underhanded tactics to secure others’ compliance.

Ye Xiu didn’t like to let his thoughts linger on what tactics Tao Xuan had employed in relation to him. He sighed, tucking his feelings away where he could analyze them later, and said, “Let’s not concern ourselves over it too much. I thought you should be made aware of it, but this is a problem for our kingly friend to resolve. We have our own purpose.”

* * *

Breakfast was a whirlwind affair, mostly because Ash recruited Lord Grim and Soft Mist to help with the cooking. The younglings were not particularly eager to be off, so while they didn’t actively stall, they still went about their business slowly.

Han Wenqing was admittedly impressed; they barely had to do anything to begin with, yet they still managed to drag their feet.

He debated whether they weren’t wholly on board with the current arrangement or just dreading the change in their lives. Zhang Xinjie had done research on Han Wenqing’s behalf when they first started talks with the Phoenix and had warned that young people who’d grown up without an adequate amount of stability typically clung to routine. While Han Wenqing had no idea what the younglings’ lives had consisted of before the Phoenix took them under its wing, fleeing from their keepers must have been a hectic experience on its own, and adapting to the present circumstances couldn’t have been easy, either.

But Han Wenqing had faith that the younglings would quickly adapt while they were on the road. It wasn’t as if it was such a long journey anyway. He was more concerned with what they would think of the new lives that awaited them in the capital, but he was determined to make it as painless a transition as possible. Spending the next ten days or so with them would hopefully grant him more insight into their personalities and allow him to place them with suitable families.

By the time breakfast was over, Han Wenqing found himself looking forward to the challenge.

Hidden behind the bulk of the building, there was a small barn where Point 38’s occupants kept their animals. There were only four stalls inside, just enough to accommodate the four adults’ mounts. As for the younglings…

“We’re going in that?” An Wenyi demanded.

“What’s wrong with it?” Lord Grim asked, amused.

That was a wagon—two wagons, actually, each pulled by two oxen. They looked like they’d been taken straight out of a merchant caravan, with their brightly colored frames and the pale canvas stretched overhead to cover passengers and cargo alike.

Unsure whether an offer of assistance would be appreciated, Han Wenqing watched as crates of food and various other supplies taken from inside the building were loaded into one of the wagons. The other remained mostly empty.

“Are we all going to fit in there?” Dai Yanqi wondered with no small amount of trepidation.

“It’s more spacious than it looks.”

“Will you and the king be on horseback, then?”

Lord Grim smiled. “Yes, of course.”

“You couldn’t have gotten horses for the rest of us?” Lu Hanwen asked.

Han Wenqing almost smiled at the childish disappointment on the boy’s face. “Leading ten horses all the way here without drawing attention is a nearly impossible task,” Han Wenqing told him.

Lu Hanwen seemed a little embarrassed once he thought about it, but he only nodded meekly. The others also settled down, quickly hiding their disgruntlement behind careful neutrality. They might raise some objections, on account of whatever trust they placed in the Phoenix, but they were too well-trained to complain to people they probably viewed as their commanders.

Rather than dampen his spirits, this realization only made Han Wenqing more eager to be off. The sooner they could arrive at the capital, the sooner these younglings could benefit from healthy relationships with authority.

Once they finished loading everything up—it didn’t take long at all, really—the children also climbed into their designated wagon one by one. The canvas cover was, at the very least, adequate protection against the intense sunlight.

Han Wenqing and the three agents mounted. The wagons formed a train: the children first, the supplies second. The oxen pulling the first wagon were attached to Lord Grim’s horse with a rope, and the oxen right behind it were similarly attached to the first wagon’s rear.

The four riders exchanged glances, and on some invisible signal, promptly took to the mountain road.

The morning in this part of the Damalgan Range was misty and a little chilly, but that was probably a consequence of the time of year more than anything. In the autumn, the vegetation grew thinner, which meant there was less cover from the breeze. But it also meant travelers were a bit more exposed to sunlight than in the spring and summer, so in the end, it wasn’t so bad.

By necessity, Han Wenqing rode somewhere near the middle of the train, Lord Grim ahead of him, with Ash and Soft Mist taking up the rear. He imagined those two would split away from their group at some point—the arrangement they agreed on only accounted for him and Lord Grim, who had already admitted Ash and Soft Mist had other things to do. He had no idea what other business the Phoenix had; he wondered if he would ever see the agents again, or if their paths were only meant to cross this once.

The younglings were quite silent in their wagon; Han Wenqing thought he heard a whisper or two, but the rustle of leaves and grass and the creak of wheels over the rough road were enough to drown out anything specific. He kept his attention concentrated on their surroundings, straining his senses to catch any hint of a threat.

It was a quiet start to their journey, but it didn’t last long.

“Oh, Old Wei!”

The exclamation drifted to him from ahead, causing him to straighten in his saddle. Beneath him, his horse snorted with anticipation. Han Wenqing patted his neck absentmindedly.

“I didn’t know you could wake up so early,” Lord Grim continued, still in that slightly raised voice. He was likely trying to communicate that whoever had just shown up was not an enemy.

Han Wenqing focused a little harder and caught the faint sound of what might have been footfalls on dirt and a scattering of pebbles. Then a somewhat grumpy voice called, “Is that how you greet me when I’ve come all this way just to deliver your mail? Ungrateful wretch.”

“Hand it over already, then. You’re standing in the middle of the road.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Han Wenqing noticed Ash appearing from around the second wagon. His horse drew abreast of Han Wenqing’s.

“Don’t worry, it’s just another one of our agents,” Ash told him quietly.

“I figured as much.”

Ash smiled briefly, his face even more youthful in the light of day. As he rode ahead of Han Wenqing, probably to go greet this newcomer, he thought he caught a whiff of a perplexing scent—but he didn’t have time to think much of it before it was gone.

“Little Ash! How wonderful, you’re here, too. Sadly, there is no mail for you.”

“Hello, Senior. It’s been some time.”

“Is that girl around?”

“Soft Mist? Of course, she’s at the back.”

“And the…you know.”

“Yes, he’s also here. So do try to be discreet.” That was Lord Grim.

“What, in the middle of the wilderness? Fine, fine. Discretion is what I do,” said the agent grandly. “Give this to him, would you?”

“Yes, all right, now make yourself scarce. We can’t have you scaring the younglings away with that ugly mug.”

“Ungrateful! How dare you—”

The rest of the conversation devolved into name-calling and banter. Whoever this Old Wei was, he seemed awfully happy to waste his time ribbing Lord Grim.

Ash reappeared shortly, carefully skirting the edge of the road, and held out an ivory envelope to Han Wenqing. His smile was a little bashful. “You can ignore them, they’re always like that.”

Han Wenqing took the envelope with some interest. Ash didn’t wait for him to say anything, retreating to the back of the caravan to rejoin Soft Mist. Ahead of them, Lord Grim and Old Wei continued their mock argument.

“Are you going to read that?”

Han Wenqing glanced up and saw Lou Guanning peering at him around the drape of cloth that concealed the interior of the wagon. “Eventually. Riding and reading simultaneously is not always the wisest thing to do.”

“We’re moving so slowly, though,” Lou Guanning pointed out. Hesitation, then: “I can read it aloud to you.”

“Thank you,” Han Wenqing said after a beat, surprised at the boy’s offer, “but I’m afraid the contents of this letter are for my eyes only.”

Lou Guanning stared at him for a moment before he nodded and withdrew, letting the cloth fall back into place. Han Wenqing rolled his shoulders and sighed into the furred collar of his cloak. He had no idea what to make of that exchange.

Then he glanced at the envelope again, prodding at its smooth edges with his gloved fingers. He had been telling the truth: riding and reading was not always wise. But they were moving at quite the leisurely pace, Lord Grim was distracted, the two other agents were relegated to the back of their little train, and his horse was hardly going to wander off the road and tip over a ridge. It was as close to privacy as he was going to get for a while.

Han Wenqing carefully undid the wax seal and lifted the letter out of its envelope. The soft paper unfolded easily in his hands.

There were three sheets in total, each one covered front to back in Zhang Xinjie’s slanted, constrained handwriting. Han Wenqing skimmed the polite greetings, studied the report of the court’s recent affairs with some wry amusement, and then finally arrived at the true object of his attention.

Though the court has kept on as it always has, and the lords and ladies and other nobles have hesitated to make nuisances of themselves as they usually do, I am afraid the investigation has not proceeded as smoothly as we may have hoped in your absence. The momentary peace your departure brought has allowed us to trace the assassins’ trail up to a certain point; all we know is that they are surely not from the city, and have found lodging in various locations throughout the town center as well as the surrounding boroughs. We have not been able to confirm their identities nor track them to their present location, both of which lead us to believe that they departed as soon as you did.

This is not an unexpected turn of events. We did suspect they would try to follow you or retreat as soon as you vanished. But unfortunately, they left too little behind for us to unravel their motivations or the identity of their employer. Despite this, I am reluctant to concede that our gamble may have been in vain. There is certainly more to be uncovered if only we know where to look. If we can track the assassins’ path out of or into the city, then we may be able to come to more productive conclusions.

It would be remiss of me not to warn you, however: it is entirely possible we gave ourselves away at some point. The assassins may come for you, and I am confident in saying there are more than two or three as we thought. Do not take any unnecessary risks; do not reveal yourself to anyone unless you are sure they may be trusted. Guard yourself carefully, my king, and return as soon as you can. Whether you are safer out there or in the walls of Skystone remains to be seen, but it is my opinion that you are as needed here as ever.

Han Wenqing sighed as he lowered the paper. It wasn’t as if he’d been certain of the investigation’s success when he’d left, but he’d still hoped there would be more to it than this. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. And wary, as well. He did not think the assassins would be able to find him all the way in the Damalgan Range—tracking people through the mountains’ wilderness was ever an endeavor. But once they were a little closer to civilization…

Should he tell Lord Grim? The thought of his reaction made Han Wenqing grimace, but keeping secrets from a new and untried ally was not conducive to building trust. On the other hand, this news might strain their fledgling relationship to the point of breaking. If Lord Grim decided to call off this venture of theirs, what would happen to the younglings?

He’d made some assurances when they spoke yesterday; a king’s word was supposed to mean something. Lord Grim would be within his rights to take the younglings, but Han Wenqing was determined to see the younglings safely to new homes. Did this information matter, when he intended to follow through on his end of the agreement regardless? It wasn’t as if Lord Grim hadn’t been aware of Han Wenqing’s troubles beforehand.

Han Wenqing decided he would inform Lord Grim of the potential danger as soon as they stopped for lunch. By then, he would surely have thought of something to say—some argument to convince him that there was no reason to revise the bulk of their plan.

After ascertaining that Lord Grim was still occupied with his foul-mouthed agent, Han Wenqing continued reading.

Intelligence has come in from border patrols. The Eracenti general we spoke of, Sun Xiang, has been harassing the townships to the south. The proximity to the capital has concerned many, and as a result we have had no choice but to redirect sizable forces to meet this threat. The truth of the general’s intentions remains to be seen, but I cannot help but draw parallels to our clashes with Eracent in the past. Their king is as greedy as he ever was and just as ambitious in war—and Sun Xiang has so far proven to be very receptive to his commands. Although he is young, he is fierce, and tales of his strength have bolstered the flagging Eracenti armies who still claim loyalty to the crown. There are many who fear what may happen should such emboldened soldiers make their way into our territories. The Eracenti government has never been particularly attentive to the war crimes their armies commit, and that was when Ye Qiu had charge of their forces. It is supposed that Sun Xiang has not the kind of honor that would demand he rein in the rampant lawlessness and depravity that corrupts the ranks of his soldiers, if he is even aware of it at all.

Another invasion attempt? was Han Wenqing’s first, immediate thought. He vividly recalled the civil war that had swept through Eracent like a vengeful wave of destruction two years ago, the conflict that had broken out between Tyrtell and that bloody country shortly afterward—a brief but stunning war that Tyrtell ultimately won.

The Eracenti king was stirring the pot again, but one year wasn’t enough to wash clean the stain of defeat. Tao Xuan couldn’t be so stupid as to challenge Tyrtell again this soon, could he? And with all the problems he was facing on his own turf…

Han Wenqing found it especially confounding that somebody as green as Sun Xiang had earned the favor of the famously suspicious Tao Xuan. Ye Qiu had still been Tao Xuan’s prized general when Eracent lost over a year ago; Sun Xiang couldn’t do any better than he had, especially when Eracent’s political infighting had only worsened since. Their armies would likelier be torn apart at their own hands before they ever did more than aggravate the Tyrtellian soldiers patrolling the borderlands.

Once he reassured himself, Han Wenqing skimmed through the rest of the letter—consisting of a lot of detailed information about anything a king might concern himself with—and tucked the papers away into the envelope they came in.

Lord Grim’s lively conversation with Old Wei seemed to have dropped off; he could still hear their voices, but they were too quiet to make out. The sounds of nature easily overtook every minor noise, providing them all with the illusion of isolation.

Hours passed in this calm fashion. Han Wenqing even dozed in his saddle, only straightening when farewells were exchanged between Lord Grim and Old Wei, who vanished so thoroughly into the wilderness that Han Wenqing never so much as glimpsed his shadow. The peace that followed was even more profound than before.

By the time they left harsh terrain and bumpy trails behind for a flatter, smoother road, it was already well past noon, the sun rising high above the surrounding mountains.

“We’re stopping! Lunchtime,” Lord Grim called from ahead, and the wagon in front of Han Wenqing veered into the grasses beside the road.

Han Wenqing followed without thought, blinking the sleep away from his eyes. In seconds, he was as awake as could be, and their surroundings came into sharp focus.

The leading wagon emptied almost as soon as they stopped, the children hopping out of the back with an enthusiasm and energy born of hours of inactivity. They took in the sparse trees and rolling hills around them with curious, attentive eyes. Some of them walked around in the yellowing grass, kicking at stones and studying the shapes of the plants. A short distance away, the lonely road disappeared around the bend of a rocky, barren knoll.

They were alone. They were safe. Han Wenqing rode a slow, careful circle around their halted procession just to be sure. He noticed Soft Mist, now on foot, flitting from shadow to shadow beneath the trees.

When he returned, Lord Grim had already dismounted and was carrying a foldable table and several blankets from the supply wagon. He dropped the table to the ground, then handed out the blankets to some of the children with instructions to spread them out on the grass.

In a few minutes, a large and rather disorderly picnic had been arranged. The unfolded table, low and wooden, held several dishes of various shapes and sizes, which were passed around at request. A short distance away, a small campfire was tended to by a very content-looking Ash. He piled the empty dishes with more food and didn’t stop until everyone was satisfied.

Han Wenqing sat next to Lord Grim. There was a comfortable amount of space between them, but something in Han Wenqing still tensed at the proximity. It wasn’t like when they had sat down together in that dark room in Point 38. This informal mealtime seemed so much more intimate, and something about it…bothered him. It just didn’t seem quite right.

Lord Grim caught him looking once and arched an eyebrow. Han Wenqing held his gaze for a long moment, as if trying to discern what he felt about this—if he was as confused as Han Wenqing—but his golden eyes gave nothing away.

While they ate, there wasn’t much chatter, just some friendly but brief exchanges here and there. Once they were all done and relaxing in the mixed shade and sunlight, however, conversation broke out.

“We’ll be parting ways with Ash and Soft Mist,” Lord Grim told the younglings. “You might want to say your goodbyes.”

Ten pairs of eyes turned to the agents in question. “You’re leaving already?” Lu Hanwen whined.

Ash smiled a little. “We’re sorry to go, but I’m afraid it’s necessary.”

“Why, though?”

“There are a lot of other people who need our help, and tasks that need doing. I’m sure we’ll see you again in Thousand Peak City.”

“You’ll visit?” Dai Yanqi demanded.

“Of course,” Soft Mist agreed solemnly. She didn’t seem to be nearly as close to the younglings as Ash, but she was familiar enough that they weren’t eager to see her go.

There was some more talk of what they would do when they all met in the capital again, during which Lord Grim got up and began quietly packing up. Han Wenqing helped him, and the rest of their party soon joined in.

Even though they were ready to be on their way, they still lingered, sitting in what could be generously called a loose semi-circle under the cool cover of the trees. Some of the younglings dozed, while others remained alert. Han Wenqing leaned against a tree trunk and watched the play of sunlight on the grass around him.

“Your Majesty,” one of the boys said suddenly, and Han Wenqing lifted his head.

Qiu Fei was staring at him. Han Wenqing blinked slowly and said, “Han Wenqing is fine.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Qiu Fei admitted.

“It’s fine. What is it?”

The rest of the party observed them curiously; even the dozers seemed to have roused.

Qiu Fei hesitated for a moment and glanced at Dai Yanqi. Then, face and voice carefully blank, he said, “You’re a warrior king, aren’t you? That’s what they say.”

“I am.”

“You lead your armies personally, then.”

“Yes, when I can,” Han Wenqing said, struggling to remain neutral. Was this a safe topic? He had no idea. “But the title of warrior king also refers to the fact that I earned my position.”

“Through combat?”

Han Wenqing rolled his shoulders. “Yes. Tyrtell suffered under civil war when I was about your age, and I joined my family in the fight. We wanted to reform the government and oust the line of beta kings. It took years, but we eventually succeeded, and by then I was the face of our faction. From there, it was just a matter of legitimizing my right to the crown.”

Qiu Fei seemed satisfied with that answer because he didn’t ask anything more. Han Wenqing was puzzled, but before he could determine the purpose of his questions, somebody else spoke up.

“If this happened when you were a teenager, then you must have started your military career early.” Luo Ji paused. “Or were you not part of any formal military?”

“I was part of a paramilitary force,” Han Wenqing replied, “which functioned much the same way as any army. But since we defended political beliefs rather than territory or peoples, our work tended to be very specific.”

“What do you mean?”

“Guard duty, mostly. Spying, sometimes. Subterfuge and sabotage. It was an open secret that every faction had at least one assassin to call on.”

“Assassination?” Tang Hao snorted. “Politicians can’t ever face anyone head-on.”

“I’m a politician, technically, as are most nobles,” Han Wenqing said, amused. “And for how much we criticize them, they’re more cutthroat than we can ever claim to be.”

“That’s not exactly worthy of praise,” An Wenyi pointed out.

“No, but when you’re fighting a war, even a political one, it pays to be ruthless.”

Nobody said anything to that, though a lot of the children were looking at Han Wenqing like they’d never seen him before. He wasn’t sure if he’d made a good impression or not just now, but they certainly weren’t about to treat him like a pushover after this.

“And since becoming king,” Lord Grim suddenly said into the silence, “I’m sure you’ve experienced the ruthlessness of politicians firsthand, no?”

“Indeed,” Han Wenqing said, tension forcing his spine straight.

“I suppose we’re all warriors in our own ways. Whether we use words or weapons, we are all willing to go to great lengths to achieve our goals,” Lord Grim mused.

Han Wenqing narrowed his eyes. “…Indeed.”

“Even assassination can seem like such a small thing next to the size of one’s ambitions.”

Han Wenqing glared at Lord Grim as subtly as he was capable of, which wasn’t very subtle at all, and decided to take the offense. “And you, Lord Grim? How did you come to be in your position?”

But Lord Grim didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “That’s a long story. I formed the Phoenix with some like-minded people, and by virtue of being one of the first members, I was expected to head our operation.”

“It helps that he’s good at it,” Soft Mist added, a hint of humor in her tone.

Lord Grim waved at Soft Mist. “This is also one of our first members. Today, she’s a dignified and respected agent. Or something like that.”

It was more information than Han Wenqing had expected to receive. “So, by your standards, Soft Mist is a senior agent.”

“Precisely.”

Han Wenqing looked at Ash. “And have you been with the Phoenix for very long?”

“Oh—almost as long as Soft Mist, I suppose,” Ash said thoughtfully. “Senior… er, Lord Grim recruited me rather by accident.”

“That tends to be the case with most of our agents,” Lord Grim said with no small amount of amusement.

Han Wenqing frowned. “By all accounts, the Phoenix has been active for the better part of a year. You’ve managed to expand very quickly in that time.”

In other words, Han Wenqing couldn’t believe so many people had been recruited merely by accident. The Phoenix surely required outrageous amounts of manpower to cause so much chaos in the underworld in mere months. They were combat-capable, extremely organized, and widespread. There was nothing accidental about it.

“You’d be surprised at what can result from simply being in the right place at the right time.”

That said, Lord Grim refused to share anything more. The refugees glanced between them, scrutinized Ash and Soft Mist, and whispered quietly among themselves. They weren’t even subtle about it. Judging by Tang Hao’s ever-present glower, they might be trying to make a point. But what that point may be, Han Wenqing could only guess.

After a snoozing half-hour of repose, the younglings started getting up and walking around, shaking the lethargy from their limbs. The adults followed suit, cleaning up any remaining mess and making sure the wagons were travel-ready. It would be getting dark in a few hours and they had little time to waste.

Ash and Soft Mist mounted their horses first. Most everyone gathered around them, offering a few last words of farewell. The younglings were reserved in their thanks and goodbyes, but their sincerity still shone through.

“Until we meet again,” Ash called warmly, waving. They rode off into the hills shortly after, following a path only they saw.

Han Wenqing crossed his arms as he watched them disappear over a hilltop. “Where are they headed?”

Lord Grim just chuckled. “You’ve asked more than your fair share of questions today, Your Majesty. Come, we should make it to Dolaski by nightfall.”

Han Wenqing was willing to concede the point, but the mention of Dolaski gave him pause. He recalled the contents of Zhang Xinjie’s letter.

“It’s best that we remain as discreet as possible until we’re deeper into Thousand Peak Pass,” he said finally.

Lord Grim, who was watching the children load into their wagon, turned and revealed an expression Han Wenqing had no name for. Arch and a little smug, and at the same time incredibly unimpressed.

“Is that so,” was the extent of his answer. He gave Han Wenqing his back and strode over to his waiting horse in judgmental silence.

Han Wenqing sighed. He knew they would have to discuss the problem eventually, but at least for the time being, Lord Grim seemed willing to let it pass without comment. It was more mercy than he would have expected from someone as sharp-edged as Lord Grim.

Something told him it wouldn’t last.

Chapter Text

The sun had nearly touched the horizon when they stopped outside of Dolaski.

“Let’s set up camp here,” Ye Xiu suggested, eyeing the slope of the hill before them. “We’ll have good cover.”

Beside him, Han Wenqing prompted his horse forward with a nudge of his legs. “I’ll have a look around, then; you get started with camp.”

Ye Xiu hummed his agreement and turned his head to face the watching younglings gathered at the rear of their wagon. He smiled. “Time to get off.”

They wasted no time, scrambling out of the wagon like their lives depended on it. In contrast, Ye Xiu dismounted his horse unhurriedly. He secured her to the supply wagon, removed her tack, and attended to her needs. Only then did he focus on the younglings.

His charges had an unfortunate amount of energy after staying cooped up for most of the day, so it was no trouble to get them to cooperate with his efforts in setting up camp. They seemed at least adequately versed in the art of outdoor living and didn’t require much instruction.

It didn’t rain much in this region at this time of year, so Ye Xiu hadn’t bothered to pack tents for everyone. There was a large tarp they could prop up if need be, but otherwise, they would be sleeping under the stars. He did quietly mention to the two omegas that they could sleep in the wagon if they felt it necessary, but Mo Fan only stared at him blankly while Shu Keyi just looked bored.

“Is there any reason we should take the wagon?” she asked.

Ye Xiu shrugged. “Even with a watch, our safety isn’t guaranteed when we’re out in the open like this. Anyone who might want to ambush us could single you two out if they catch your scent. If you’d rather not risk that kind of exposure…”

Shu Keyi sniffed and threw her shoulders back. “I, for one, am perfectly willing to face down anyone who dares to target me.”

By then, Mo Fan had already disappeared, apparently feeling no need to justify his decision or even straightforwardly refuse the offer of the wagon. Ye Xiu sighed, more for show than anything—he hadn’t truly expected them to make the cautious choice—and waved Shu Keyi away.

He remembered being like them once—in fact, he was still like them, from a certain point of view. He could hardly remember a time when he had openly lived as an omega because so much of his existence was spent in the perpetuation of one lie or another. First, the lie that he was an alpha, and now, that he was a beta. His deception had provided more safety than any amount of caution ever had.

Ye Xiu searched the supply wagon for the scent neutralizers and hauled out the entire crate. The noise it made when it dropped to the ground instantly drew the attention of the younglings.

“You know what to do,” he said at their alert expressions.

Slowly, they all came forward and took a small packet from the crate. There was enough to keep them in the clear for the entire journey, but these neutralizers were admittedly not of very high quality. It wouldn’t conceal their scents completely, just muffle them.

For the time being, however, they served their purpose. Whatever traces the younglings left behind would be sufficiently muddled to throw off anyone who’d think to track them by scent.

Han Wenqing returned just as the younglings had finished queuing up behind the two wagons. He dismounted and approached Ye Xiu, eyeing the activity with no small amount of suspicion.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re applying scent neutralizers,” Ye Xiu replied evenly.

Han Wenqing raised an eyebrow at Ye Xiu, then said, “The camp looks decent enough. We’re not going to keep the fires going all night, will we?”

“Of course not. We have enough readymade rations to avoid a campfire, and once we settle down, I’ll put out the lamps.” It was Ye Xiu’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You did mention a need for discretion.”

“So I did.” Han Wenqing didn’t look uncomfortable, per se, but he didn’t look to be perfectly at ease, either. Ye Xiu was fascinated by this weakness in his defenses.

“And are we going to discuss that now?”

Han Wenqing met his eyes squarely, all sign of weakness gone. “You tell me.”

Ye Xiu regarded him for a moment. He’d been aware of Han Wenqing’s kingly difficulties before they met at Point 38, and while he didn’t want the children to have to endure that kind of environment, he acknowledged that Han Wenqing was…reliable, in his way. He had given his word that he would keep the younglings safe. If nothing else, whoever came for Han Wenqing would be too diverted—or too dead—to make a move on their charges.

“I’ll tell them we’re heading into town,” Ye Xiu said in a somewhat hushed tone. “We need to pick up some supplies. We’ll talk on the way.”

Han Wenqing dipped his chin fractionally.

Ten minutes later, they had crested the hills surrounding their little camp and were navigating the paths through a farmer’s field. There was no light emerging from the farmhouse in the distance, nor from any of the outlying residences they passed as they headed into the town proper.

Dolaski was a small town. It had been a great city once, as evidenced by the crumbling ruins of a massive arena that stood next to its main square. Centuries upon centuries ago, alphas and omegas would duel in those grounds, showing off their strength and vitality even as they upheld the honor of their nations. The need of those ancient warriors to prove themselves, their desire to find worthy mates, and the convenience of restrained violence had, in many ways, allowed the kingdoms of old to live in peace.

But of course, the kingdoms of that fallen age had been led by the enhanced more often than not.

They lived in a different world now. A world led not by the supposedly hot-blooded, instinct-driven enhanced, but by beta kings and queens who treated the enhanced like commodities; threats to be issued against their enemies.

“There is a movement in court to restore that arena,” Han Wenqing said thoughtfully.

Ye Xiu glanced at him, absently resting the length of his umbrella over his shoulder. “Truly? It would take a lot of resources.”

“Yes, but history remembers Dolaski and its tournaments fondly. This place used to be so grand… Ever since the population started to center and grow around the capital, however, much of it was destroyed, for practicality’s sake.”

“More people, more mouths to feed,” Ye Xiu said reasonably. “Homes nobody occupied in trade for farmland—it’s not bad. If you intend to restore the arena, will you seek to rebuild the old city as well?”

Han Wenqing shook his head as he stared up at the imposing outer wall of the arena. “That’s only a fool’s dream. What was can never be again. And I don’t believe anyone here would agree to it, no matter all the glory their ancestors once may have shared in.”

As one, they looked around. The square was largely empty, though enough lamps were lit that the townsfolk shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss nightly activities. In Gale Gobi, Ye Xiu’s childhood home, all the squares had been lively with song and dance well into the midnight hours. There had been food and drink for everyone and no regrets the next morning.

But Dolaski was much reduced compared to Gale Gobi, or any of the colorful cities in New Weir. The people here were conditioned for survival. They were farmers and workers, craftsmen and hunters. Tyrtellians had ever been serious and steady in temperament; outside of a few yearly celebrations, they were not given to levity.

“I suppose Dolaski doesn’t get a lot of visitors, now that it’s most assuredly not a tourist attraction,” said Ye Xiu as they walked out of the square and toward what could generously be called a commercial area.

“No. There is at least one inn here, though, so it’s not as if it’s out of everybody’s way.”

“It’s just not usually their stop,” Ye Xiu finished wryly.

Han Wenqing snorted. “Well, there’s nothing to see, and most of the wares cater to rougher lifestyles, not luxury. There is a lot of good hunting beyond the border.”

Ye Xiu didn’t think there was much of a distinction between Tyrtellian territory and no man’s land this far out. What few settlements existed in the deep mountains almost seemed like extensions of this harsh nation.

“It’s all the same to me,” Ye Xiu said.

“Technically,” Han Wenqing said, with some consternation, “I can’t impose the king’s law on Tyrtellian subjects who wander into no man’s land. Hunting is good here, too, but out there…”

“I see.” Ye Xiu had wondered about that, but the crown’s powerlessness in this regard perplexed him. “You can’t do anything to…rein in these wayward subjects?”

“It’s not a priority. Perhaps I will have to make it one at some point. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to settle all of the Damalgan. That would just cause me more problems.”

Ye Xiu had to chuckle at that. He didn’t disagree—the Damalgan Range was a wonderfully convenient buffer between Tyrtell and the Janar Region. Han Wenqing would have to be mad to throw that out. Not to mention that, if he were to expand northward, Wuvio and Somasou would almost certainly try to stop him, and who knew what could happen then. The Rift Wars were still too recent to risk it.

Ye Xiu pointed his umbrella at a shop nearby, still lit and presumably open for business. “Let’s have a look at our options, shall we?”

Most of Dolaski’s shopkeepers preferred to close by nightfall, but many of them were still organizing their wares for the next day, counting and separating money, or cleaning up. They were happy to welcome a couple of latecomers into their shops, especially latecomers who appeared to have heavy purses.

At the fifth shop they stepped into, where they had found enough rations to keep their charges fed for a day, the shopkeeper commented on the arrival of so many strangers this late in the year.

Han Wenqing glanced up from his open purse. “Strangers?”

“Well, it’s normal to get some hunters at the start of spring, but they always come back as winter’s settin’ in,” the shopkeeper explained. “And during the winter, nobody wants to be this close to the worst of the cold, but summertime brings buyers with a penchant for rare furs and the like. Gets quite lively around that time of year. But the fall’s a quiet season—some hunters return early, but other than that—”

“Who’s in town besides us? Do you know?” Ye Xiu smoothly interrupted. He could sense Han Wenqing’s tension, and he shared it.

“Humph! Can’t say I do,” the shopkeeper admitted grumpily. “Glimpsed ‘em, though. I never did see more questionable characters.”

“Questionable?” Ye Xiu echoed.

“Suspicious, y’know. Weren’t dressed for mountain weather—didn’t have cloaks like the gentleman here—or gear like you. Always kept their hoods up and heads down. They skulked about like thieves, but we hardly ever saw them, so there was no confrontin’ them about it.”

“And how many were there?”

“I only saw two.”

Ye Xiu exchanged a weighty glance with Han Wenqing, who silently left a pile of coins on the counter. “We’ll be taking those dry rations.”

The shopkeeper deftly counted the money and nodded at Han Wenqing with a practiced smile. “Take two bags, then. Thanks for your business, sirs!”

Ye Xiu hefted one sack onto his shoulder while Han Wenqing took the other. They left the shop quietly, their eyes scanning their surroundings on reflex as soon as they stepped into the cool evening air. Night crept over the sky, slowly settling in, no clouds to hide the moon’s brilliance. Despite the relative darkness that had engulfed the street, it only took a moment for their enhanced vision to adjust.

“I think,” Ye Xiu said carefully, “that you should return to camp. I’ll investigate our hooded strangers.”

“You mean you’ll check if anyone tries to follow me.”

Ye Xiu shrugged. It wasn’t out of the question that they had gone unnoticed, but the chances weren’t high. If these strangers were the assassins that had plagued Han Wenqing in Thousand Peak City, then the king was the best bait to lure them out.

Han Wenqing glared at him for a moment, then jerked his chin in the direction of the square. In silence, the two of them stalked deeper into the darkness.

Han Wenqing led them to a particularly sheltered corner, in the shadow of an old, partially intact statue. He set down his sack of rations and crossed his arms. “What are you going to do if you find them?”

“Kill them.”

It seemed that wasn’t the answer Han Wenqing had been expecting, though he didn’t seem especially surprised. “You against two assassins? Mind, we’ve been led to believe there are more than two.”

“I’ve dealt with assassins before, and I’m perfectly capable of dealing with more than two opponents at a time,” Ye Xiu said dismissively, setting his own sack down. The contents clunked awkwardly against the ground. “This is a good opportunity to solve your problem.”

“Whoever is behind them might just send more assassins.”

“That’s a problem for the future, not a problem now,” Ye Xiu replied dryly. “As it is, if these assassins are allowed to follow you out of this place, the younglings will be in danger as well.”

“It’s not that I object to taking action, I only take issue to the fact that you seem to have no plan.”

“I do have a plan.”

“Which is?”

“Kill them.”

It was almost too dark to really appreciate the full power of Han Wenqing’s scowl. Ye Xiu smiled.

After a moment, Han Wenqing grunted and bent down to pick up both sacks. “Fine. If you get yourself killed, don’t come crying to me. I’ll be waiting at camp.”

“I’ll try to send at least one your way,” Ye Xiu said humorously. “Wouldn’t want you to miss all the action.”

“How considerate.” Han Wenqing turned his back on Ye Xiu, but before he walked more than a few steps, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t die.”

Ye Xiu didn’t say anything in return; he was already heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

“He’s not alone.”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll have to split up eventually.”

From the shadows, they watched—never for too long, for fear of giving away their presence, but long enough that they never lost track of their target. He didn’t seem to be hiding anyway.

“I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to show up here,” came a quiet murmur.

A hum. “Maybe he’s just that confident.”

“Stupid. Even an alpha warrior has weaknesses, and we’ve studied his extensively.”

“Are you really going to bemoan a job made easy?”

“What if the one with him is enhanced, too?”

Silence. Nobody had to say that their odds of success in such a case would fall to almost nothing.

“Remember: there’s good money on the line.”

“Whatever.”

“Wait—where did they go?”

“Keep an eye out.”

The edges of the king’s cloak fluttered slightly as he strode out of the square. He was alone.

Then—a glimpse of white and red in the darkness. A hair-raising sense of danger. Someone hissed.

“Make haste—we must follow the king. Don’t let the other one see you.”

* * *

It was on the very fringes of the town proper that they came for him.

His subtler senses warned him of company, but Han Wenqing only glanced at his surroundings—sleepy houses with large gardens, stables and barns, chicken coops and pigpens. The only light came from the moon and the emerging stars. In a town like this, everybody went to bed early, only rising with the sun.

Without turning his head or stiffening his posture, Han Wenqing considered the worst-case scenario: that Lord Grim had failed, that he had been killed, and now Han Wenqing was entirely on his own.

That’s not possible, a voice whispered. Han Wenqing barely registered it.

There was a faint scent lingering in the air, something which seemed to indicate weapons newly sharpened and polished, and an eerie silence that enshrouded the stretch of road he walked on. Not the silence of a small town at night, but the silence of a hunt well underway. Han Wenqing could feel a prickling on the back of his neck and a subsequent sweeping sensation in the bottom of his gut, like he was falling and hadn’t realized it yet.

Were his stalkers the same hooded figures that had been haunting Dolaski? The same assassins that had hounded him in the capital? The ones that escaped Zhang Xinjie? If they were enhanced…

Han Wenqing set his questions aside. Now was not the time to hesitate.

“You may as well come out,” he called, and the shadows seemed to deepen for a moment before movement exploded around him.

Han Wenqing dropped the sacks on his shoulders to the ground without a second thought, fists up and ready.

There were five of them, as far as he could tell, all dressed in muted colors, skin covered and faces concealed. They didn’t bother with shouting or declarations of intent—they did not demand his surrender. They simply surged at him, a wave of bristling steel and clenched fists.

Han Wenqing jumped over the sweep of a leg and ducked a rapid-fire series of punches. His cloak billowed behind him as he propelled himself out of their midst with a well-timed leap. The muscles of his legs shuddered as he practically flew over their hooded heads and rolled upright from the dirt, now beyond their immediate reach.

With practiced synchrony, the five of them turned to follow him, spreading out once more. Han Wenqing did not recognize their formation, but he’d already caught on to their game—he wasn’t about to let them surround him.

Are they enhanced or aren’t they? He strained to catch a hint of their scents, but nothing struck him as alpha or omega. Then he decided it probably didn’t matter. They were assassins.

And assassins didn’t fight the same way as everyone else, enhanced strength or no.

Luckily, Han Wenqing had faced down more than a few assassins in his day: such was the lot of a king with his history. He braced himself as his attackers closed in, feeding the fury inside him and letting it cloak him like armor.

He needed to protect the younglings. He couldn’t lead these people to their camp. I need to protect the younglings.

He struck.

The first to fall was downed with a palm strike to the solar plexus, and Han Wenqing permanently removed them from the fight by kicking their temple. He stepped over the prone form as the remaining assassins hesitated for a bare moment, clearly waiting to see if their companion would stir.

Han Wenqing sniffed disdainfully and raised his fists again. “Don’t waste my time.”

The next moment brought with it another rush of movement, as well as another victory. A second assassin went down when Han Wenqing struck at his leg. A masculine sound of pain erupted, followed by a helpless snarl as the man dropped heavily to one knee.

“Aim for the throat!” he hissed at his companions, his cold fury an almost startling contrast to the heat of Han Wenqing’s anger.

Han Wenqing turned away from the downed man for just a moment, showing him his back. As expected, the man (their leader?) staggered to his feet even as the other assassins aimed their weapons—and then Han Wenqing spun back around, brandishing a knife.

Blood gushed from the slash on the man’s neck, deep enough that his head was half-detached from his body before he could even react.

Two down. Han Wenqing flexed his fingers. Gave a challenging glance to the three remaining assassins. You’re next.

The difference between five and three was massive. Their formation was looser, easier to maneuver around. Han Wenqing probed at their growing weakness, stoked their impatience. A grim battle-calm had already enveloped him, but he was confident in his victory.

Then, just as he was about to grab another assassin, he realized something was wrong. His vision was spotted at the edges, and his movements were slower than he was used to. Something seemed to be muffling his senses, drowning out the sounds of battle until only a faint roaring remained.

His fingers trembled. The assassin slipped out of reach.

Without thinking about it, he raised a hand to his partially bare throat. Had they managed to…?

A chuckle reached him even through the disorientating haze, and Han Wenqing realized the assassins were circling him, carefully positioning themselves for what they certainly believed would be their final, fatal attack.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins spiked, such that it temporarily washed away the static invading his awareness. Han Wenqing lurched at the nearest assassin, the slim blade in his hand slanting just so.

He didn’t typically use any weapons beyond his fists and feet (unless one counted armored boots and gloves), but these people were too well-trained to be dealt with in such a…satisfying fashion. If he wanted to end this soon, he needed to play it a little differently. They were expecting him to use brute force—so instead he would use precision and subtlety.

The slim blade was stuck between his fingers, a claw that jutted ominously from his descending fist. The assassin choked out a cry as it punched through the base of their throat, right above the cradle of their collarbone.

Han Wenqing let the blade slide back down into the sheath on the inside of his forearm, gripped the assassin’s head between his hands, and twisted. Snap.

Han Wenqing smiled and turned, eyes narrowing—

A weight slammed into his back, nearly toppling him. He braced himself on the collapsing body before him, but it was already limp and lifeless. He crashed into it, then rolled instinctively as arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He was about to break free when the assassin raised their knee and hit his hipbone just so.

Pain flared, the shock of it more effective than the actual sensation. Han Wenqing let out a grunt, his mind blanking as he tried to understand just what they had done—it shouldn’t hurt this much!—and then the other one was on top of him as well.

His ribs ached in protest as the assassin’s weight settled atop him. A long, curved knife gleamed from above, coming down with bewildering speed toward his—chest? Throat?

Before he could process anything, before he could try to defend himself, the scene…shifted sideways.

Dizzy, he was so dizzy. And damp. There was something on his face.

Han Wenqing tasted dirt. He blinked at the ground below him as he painstakingly rose onto his hands and knees, his hip still stinging and his senses distorted, but otherwise all right.

What just happened?

With a quiet groan, Han Wenqing stood unsteadily and looked around.

Instead of three bodies scattered across the road, there were four. The fifth hit the ground almost right in front of him, arm twisted and belly stained with blood.

The hush that had befallen him and deadened his senses receded suddenly. Everything was painfully sharp in that moment.

Protect the younglings.

A half-second later, Han Wenqing stomped down on the assassin’s throat, promptly crushing it. A gurgling sound emerged from the broken figure and weak hands clutched fruitlessly at his ankle.

Then another figure entered his line of sight and crouched on the assassin’s other side. Han Wenqing must have been overestimating himself because he hadn’t even seen this sixth person.

Walls of black constrained his vision. He was already beginning to feel unbalanced again, pain clouding his thoughts, but—he had to protect the younglings. He couldn’t die here. So he planted his feet and braced himself.

The newcomer stabbed their blade right through the half-dead assassin’s eye.

A short, hoarse gasp, and then silence.

Han Wenqing realized the newcomer was dressed differently from the hooded assassins, who were so swaddled in concealing cloth that they were genderless and barely distinct from one another. This person was, confusingly enough, dressed all in white. Definitely not an assassin.

A moment later, his eyes locked onto the brightness of the scarf wrapped around their neck, which even the moonlight couldn’t entirely bleach of color. Unconsciously, something in him relaxed.

Then Han Wenqing blearily focused on that pale face and—laughed.

“So you’re…alive after all.”

Lord Grim smiled back as he stood. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I may have given you more than you could handle.”

Han Wenqing didn’t want to dignify that with a response, but the words came out of his mouth unbidden: “Handled it just fine.”

“…What’s the matter with you?”

A blur. Warmth. There was still something on his face—blood, maybe? But more importantly, there was warmth. Han Wenqing pressed himself closer to the source of that incredible heat. He hadn’t noticed how cold he was.

“Han Wenqing… Han Wenqing! What happened?”

“Think they…got me with…something,” Han Wenqing slurred. He wasn’t sure the sounds he made were comprehensible, but never let it be said he didn’t try. “Neck.”

The warmth touched his throat, stroking gently over his skin. He growled instinctively—he didn’t want anybody touching his neck. But the voice—Lord Grim, it was Lord Grim, he was alive—shushed him.

“You might be right. Look, I’ll carry you back to camp—you’re going to be fine. Your symptoms seem to suggest a concussion, but—”

The rest of what he had to say abruptly faded into an indistinguishable murmur. Han Wenqing wondered if he really wasn’t concussed. Lord Grim would have mentioned if he were a medic; how was he so sure Han Wenqing would be fine? Han Wenqing could be dying for all he knew.

But…Lord Grim wouldn’t let him die, would he? They still had a mission to complete.

His sight and hearing came in and out of focus, but it hurt his head to make sense of what was happening, so he stopped trying. Instead, Han Wenqing shoved his face closer to the heat, inhaling as deeply as he could despite the numbness that seemed to strangle every piece of him.

At least he wasn’t in pain anymore.

“You’re clingier than I expected.”

Han Wenqing hummed; it was all he could do. Those words rang so clearly… He should be insulted, probably, but he wasn’t. The warmth meant safety, and Lord Grim was the warmth. He was…he felt like…he smelled…

Omega, Han Wenqing tried to force past frozen lips. He doubted he succeeded.

Lord Grim might have said something, but Han Wenqing was no longer listening.

Chapter Text

“Whoa! What happened?”

Ye Xiu grunted as a small horde of curious teenagers flocked around him. “Someone lay out a sleeping bag in the wagon and get a flask of water. Tang Hao, Qiu Fei, help me with him.”

There was a moment of stillness, then the horde burst into action. Some scrambled to follow Ye Xiu’s instructions, while others made way for the scramblers. Tang Hao and Qiu Fei, the sturdiest of the lot, took some of Han Wenqing’s weight as Ye Xiu let his prone body slide off his back. His umbrella nearly escaped his grip with the sudden shift in balance.

It was a fumbling mess and undignified to the extreme—for them and for the king—but they carried him over to the wagon without incident. By then, someone had already unrolled a sleeping bag on the floor beside a folded blanket, a lamp, a tangled pile of cloth, and two flasks of water. A few of the children lingered nearby as they painstakingly loaded Han Wenqing inside.

“I don’t know where the treatment kit is,” An Wenyi said quietly from Ye Xiu’s left.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t seem to be seriously injured,” Ye Xiu replied with a grunt, lifting Han Wenqing by the ankles as Tang Hao and Qiu Fei hauled him inside, hands wrapped around his upper arms. “They got him with something. A paralytic poison if I had to guess.”

An Wenyi nodded, doubt crossing his face before it blanked into a neutral mask.

“But what happened? Was he attacked?” Luo Ji asked. An Wenyi tried to shush him, but he only received an irritated glance for his trouble.

“Yes, he was attacked. I’ll tell you more when we have him settled down.” And with that, they got all four of Han Wenqing’s royal limbs inside the wagon.

Ye Xiu hopped in after them and carefully situated Han Wenqing atop the sleeping bag. Then he looked at Tang Hao and Qiu Fei, who were standing at Han Wenqing’s head and catching their breath. “Thank you for your help. You two can go for now.”

They hesitated, but when they glanced at Han Wenqing’s unmoving form, they nodded and skirted around him. Their shoulders brushed Ye Xiu’s as they passed.

Tang Hao hopped off the wagon without fanfare, but Qiu Fei paused. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

Ye Xiu had already moved to kneel near Han Wenqing’s head. He was sorting through the cloth, his umbrella on the floor beside him, when Qiu Fei’s quiet question made him look up. “He’ll be fine.”

Another nod and Qiu Fei was gone.

Nobody was left at the wagon’s entrance. The camp beyond these canvas walls was eerily silent; not even the rustle of grass could be heard. If not for the lamp glowing cheerily on the bench next to him, it would have been an unsettling scene.

Ye Xiu doused a piece of cloth in water and gently started wiping Han Wenqing’s blood-smeared face. Underneath, he was bare of bruises or cuts, so it was safe to assume the blood wasn’t his. There was a small red spot on his throat, just beneath his jaw—a point of entry.

Assassins were truly conniving bastards. They must have been well-funded to afford such a poison—and well-versed in killing enhanced warriors to use it.

After Han Wenqing’s face was cleaned, Ye Xiu proceeded to divest him of his cloak and boots, and after a moment’s thought, his shirts. He didn’t take the undershirt off all the way, only unbuttoned it so he could examine his chest. He lifted the hem, too, and felt around his ribs and abdomen for signs of debilitating injury.

While he conducted his investigation, Han Wenqing’s eyes cracked open. Ye Xiu felt their weight on him like teeth at his throat.

“Hello,” he said softly, “I see you’re back with us. I don’t know if you can understand me or not…”

A faint sigh followed by two deliberate blinks. Ye Xiu decided to take that as an affirmative.

He didn’t even try to hide his relief. “Good. You were insensible—it worried me. But I think you’ve only been paralyzed. I’ve come across these kinds of poisons before, though I have no personal experience with them. If I remember correctly, you’ll be perfectly mobile by morning or sooner, depending on the dosage. I didn’t find anything worse than bruises on you, just a lot of hidden weapons.”

His faintly teasing smile, or maybe the reassurance in his words, seemed to sooth Han Wenqing. He closed his eyes again, taking in a deep breath before slowly exhaling. Something about his expression, even stiffened by the poison, appeared more relaxed.

Ye Xiu buttoned Han Wenqing’s shirt and tried to straighten out his rumpled appearance. There was no way he was going to get the man into the sleeping bag without some help or a lot of effort, so he instead unfolded the blanket and laid it over Han Wenqing. As he arranged his arms into a more comfortable position, something suddenly occurred to him.

Carefully gripping one of Han Wenqing’s wrists, he peeled off his glove—reinforced, as expected—and checked on the flesh underneath. His knuckles were red, but not torn; the bones all seemed to be in place.

Ye Xiu smiled slightly. He studied the other hand as well, and even as he felt for breaks or swelling, he thought about the surrealistic circumstances he now found himself in. These very hands had rained blow after blow down on Ye Xiu, and now he was handling them tenderly. How times changed.

“You’re fortunate we’re not enemies anymore,” Ye Xiu murmured to the sleeping Han Wenqing. “But even then, I don’t know if I would have left you for dead.”

Ye Xiu checked the lamp oil, then stood up and brushed off his clothes. He wasn’t dirty, not even bloodied, but he felt disordered, out of sorts. Like somebody had rubbed him the wrong way. Leftover adrenaline, probably.

(He very pointedly ignored Han Wenqing’s alpha scent clinging to his clothes.)

When Ye Xiu hopped off the wagon, it was to see the younglings sitting or lying on their sleeping bags, arranged in a circle. It might have been an idyllic scene, were there a campfire at their center, or if their eyes hadn’t all been trained on him with almost predatory intensity.

Well, he needed to talk to them anyway. With what he hoped was a comforting smile, Ye Xiu drifted closer and announced, “He’s well. By morning he’ll be moving around again. No serious injuries, as I thought.”

Some of them sighed or shifted, glancing at each other and then at the wagon, faintly lit from within. Since the assassins were dead, Ye Xiu wasn’t as worried about discretion, but he still didn’t tell the children to light more lamps. The cover of night and the clarity of the stars were reassuring, in their own way.

An Wenyi’s voice broke through the tense quiet. “I found some salve. If he has bruises.”

Ye Xiu hid his surprise behind a brisk nod. “That’s good. If you’d like, apply it to his knuckles and ribs. It’ll be good to check on him throughout the night, in case he wakes up confused or delirious.”

Now for the other matter… He inhaled deeply. “I have to go back and cover our tracks. I want two of you on watch until I return.”

“You’re leaving?” Lu Hanwen demanded. “What if someone attacks us, too?”

“We’ll handle it,” Tang Hao said, sitting up straight. His pride was clear on his face. If Ye Xiu didn’t know better, he’d assume Tang Hao wanted a fight.

Lou Guanning shushed them (much to their consternation) and asked Ye Xiu, “How long will you take?”

Ye Xiu thought about the bodies and the state of the road. “Two hours at most.”

Lou Guanning nodded slowly. “And you don’t think anyone followed you here?”

“I know no one followed me here. That said, I plan to do some more investigating. Just to make sure we got all of them.”

“And who are they, exactly?” Shu Kexin asked.

“Enemies of the king,” Ye Xiu replied shortly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you more. You’ll have to ask His Majesty tomorrow.” That was one conversation he was happy to defer.

There were some grumbles, but they tapered off quickly. Ye Xiu didn’t miss the looks of mingled worry and distrust on his charges’ youthful faces. He didn’t doubt that his work would be cut out for him tomorrow. That Han Wenqing would certainly have it worse was his only comfort.

“I’ll be heading off now. Please be careful.”

Ye Xiu went to rouse his horse, tied to the side of the supply wagon and well away from the nucleus of camp, only to find the mare awake with pricked ears. He smiled as he fitted on the blanket, saddle, and bridle. He eyed Han Wenqing’s horse for a moment, too, but ultimately decided just the one was enough.

The horse could carry two bodies, he could carry one—all he really needed to do was find a convenient location to dispose of them. Luckily, most people around here kept pigs, and he had a very large knife tucked inside his boot.

His umbrella, he left next to Han Wenqing. He wasn’t going to need it.

* * *

Waking up took a while.

Han Wenqing’s eyelids felt unaccountably heavy, and there was a strange ache behind his forehead and around his eyes that very nearly convinced him to just fall back asleep. But the sun was up and he knew he couldn’t laze around for much longer. He had things to do—

He blinked slowly. There was…breathing. Nearby.

With a slight turn of his head, Han Wenqing realized he was in…the wagon. The wagon the younglings used. He was lying on the floor, and stretched out on the bench beside him was Lord Grim.

“Omega,” he muttered, and wondered why it was so clear now. Why that scent curled around him, barely there but impossible to ignore.

Lord Grim’s eyes snapped open.

Han Wenqing was almost too tired to move, but the look Lord Grim gave him sent his heart racing. Within moments, he was tense, ready for an attack.

In a hoarse voice, Lord Grim whispered, “What did you say?”

“Omega,” he repeated, because Han Wenqing was many things, but he wasn’t a coward.

He saved me. He won’t hurt me.

…I don’t think.

“Your Majesty…”

“Don’t worry,” he said. He didn’t think he wanted to know what words were about to come out of Lord Grim’s mouth, not when he wore that expression.

Lord Grim sat up, moving slowly like his limbs protested every twitch. Han Wenqing immediately studied the length of his body, looking for signs of injury, but all he could tell was that Lord Grim had seen better days. He was more ruffled than Han Wenqing thought possible.

Running a hand through his mussed hair, Lord Grim grumbled, “Should have remembered to reinforce the neutralizer.” He directed his sharp stare at Han Wenqing. “I suppose I should thank you for reminding me.”

Han Wenqing took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up as well. He was surprised to note that nothing hurt as much as he expected.

Lord Grim watched him reach underneath his undershirt to feel his ribs. “An Wenyi insisted on treating your bruises. You took a few hits.”

“Hm. That paralytic made it difficult to tell.” Except…

Han Wenqing shifted his hips a little and felt an all too familiar sting. He tried to hide his wince, but Lord Grim’s eyes narrowed anyway.

“Sore?”

“They got me where it hurt,” Han Wenqing muttered. “Old injury.”

“Ah.”

They didn’t say anything for a while, just shifted awkwardly where they sat. The morning light brought birdsong and pointed shuffling from outside, but nobody and nothing disturbed them except their own thoughts. The lack of urgency seemed incongruous with the mood between them. It felt like they should be doing something.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything to the younglings,” Lord Grim said abruptly. “Or anyone, really. I’d also prefer if you didn’t ask questions, but I can acknowledge that’s a bit unrealistic.”

Han Wenqing sighed. He didn’t really want to do this now; neither he nor Lord Grim were in top form. And he preferred it when they got along. Even so…

“Just put my mind at ease,” he said. “Are you like them?”

“Them?”

“The younglings. Were you a child soldier?” Was that the impetus behind the Phoenix?

The question seemed to bring Lord Grim up short, and Han Wenqing braced himself. But all he did was tilt his head and hum thoughtfully.

“Would you say you were a child soldier, Your Majesty?”

“No,” he replied instantly. “I never felt like I was too young to do what I did. I did it gladly, and it was my choice.”

“That’s good,” Lord Grim replied, “but you were still young, weren’t you? How would it have looked to others?”

Han Wenqing frowned down at his lap, where a blanket lay tangled. He said slowly, “If we’re only talking about age—about what’s appropriate for sixteen-year-olds—then yes, I was a child soldier. But I still wouldn’t compare my experience to theirs.”

“I feel the same way. I was about fifteen when I joined the military. It was expected of me, but I could have put up a fight. I didn’t.”

Han Wenqing looked up sharply. “You were a youngling. It was wrong.”

“So were you.”

“Fighting in a civil war is different from fighting in the military,” he countered. “I couldn’t stay out of it; my other options didn’t leave much room for survival. It was an unhappy situation all around, but I wanted justice and reform as much as I wanted to preserve my life and the lives of my family.”

“We can argue technicalities all day,” Lord Grim pointed out. “I don’t think it matters much to either of us, though.”

Han Wenqing huffed out a breath. “Perhaps not. Fine, one more question—are you a deserter?”

For some reason, Lord Grim laughed. “Yes, actually. But not from your armies, don’t worry.”

Han Wenqing hadn’t been worried. He imagined he would have remembered any outstanding desertions from the past year or so. And whoever Lord Grim was, his skills were unquestionable. Someone like him would leave quite a gap in the ranks.

“That’s all I need to know,” Han Wenqing said at last. “For now.”

Lord Grim raised his eyebrows. “I have nothing else to say to you on the matter of my past.”

I don’t want to know your past. I want to know your name. I want to know why something about your scent seems so familiar.

But all Han Wenqing said was, “That’s fine.” I can wait.

When they sorted themselves out—as much as they could, anyway—they hopped out of the back of the wagon. Well, Lord Grim hopped, graceful as ever with his umbrella in hand, whereas Han Wenqing carefully lowered himself to the ground with a grip on the wagon’s frame, suppressing his reaction to the twinge of his abused hip.

He hoped the thing wasn’t as inflamed as it felt, or else riding would be miserable.

The younglings were already up and about, as expected. Han Wenqing had feared they were wasting daylight, but it was still quite early. The sun must have risen only an hour ago, judging by the chill that still clung to their surroundings.

A small campfire was lit in the center of camp, surrounded by sleeping bags. Most of the children were gathered around it, eating rations—the same rations they purchased yesterday, come to think of it.

Wait. “I was only out for the night, wasn’t I?”

Lord Grim was evidently amused by the question. He crossed his arms as he scanned the camp. “Yes, you were attacked last night.”

“And…” Han Wenqing honestly didn’t know where he was going with this. Something about the ordinariness of the scene just seemed laughable, like Lord Grim was playing a trick on him. “You were able to retrieve the rations.”

“Of course, I’d never waste money like that.”

Han Wenqing snorted. “What about the assassins?”

“Oh, they won’t be a problem. Nobody should know what happened here. However, the younglings are waiting on your explanation.”

As if on cue, everybody looked at him. Well, everybody except Mo Fan, who was as usual ignoring the rest of the group, and Lord Grim, who was staring into the distance like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

The trick was actually a trap, and he’d walked right into it.

Han Wenqing didn’t bother to hide his glare. Lord Grim just cleared his throat and said, “I’ll start to load the wagons—you talk to them.”

Lord Grim swiftly strode away, leaving Han Wenqing to his fate.

Well. It wasn’t that huge of a trial. He had certainly faced much worse than ten deadly teenagers with trust issues.

Non-threatening body language wasn’t difficult to portray when one was tired and in pain. Han Wenqing walked forward as steadily as he could, careful not to reveal weakness, but equally cautious of appearing too confrontational. He slowly sat on the ground as soon as he was close enough, inserting himself into a gap in their circle, and stretched his legs out on the grass, feet pointed at the fire.

They waited.

“I apologize for what happened,” Han Wenqing started, “and for what I’m sure must have been a long night. I’m afraid my problems followed me from the capital—someone has been sending assassins after me for two months now. We hoped I could leave them behind and lay low for a while as I attended to you all, and the investigation in the capital could proceed more smoothly, but as you can see, whoever wants me dead is quite insistent.”

No one said anything for a minute. The younglings didn’t seem to know what to make of this confession.

“So it had nothing to do with us?” Dai Yanqi finally asked.

Han Wenqing shook his head. “Not at all. This is just par for the course, in my…profession.”

“Does that mean there will be more of them after you?” Shu Kexin demanded, trying and failing to feign indifference.

“It’s possible, but unlikely at the moment. I trust Lord Grim was able to hide the evidence of our encounter.”

“Is that what they call it nowadays?” Tang Hao rolled his eyes. “You apparently got your ass kicked.”

Han Wenqing refused to bristle. “I wasn’t guarding against poison, that’s true enough. The outcome of their ambush, however, should speak for itself. I am just fine.”

“And I didn’t come across any traces of more assassins in Dolaski,” Lord Grim announced, manifesting behind Han Wenqing. “I did search the inn they were staying at—the room was barely inhabited. No indication that they left anything behind for their allies to find. Our kingly friend should be safe.”

Han Wenqing frowned at Lord Grim over his shoulder. “It seems you conducted quite an investigation of your own.” Perhaps he could question him later and send some information back to Zhang Xinjie.

“I don’t leave things up to chance if I can help it.”

“And did you sleep at all?”

“He did, though barely,” An Wenyi interjected before Lord Grim could even open his mouth.

Lord Grim raised an eyebrow at An Wenyi. “Reporting me to His Majesty isn’t going to change anything, you know. He doesn’t have any authority over me.”

“Han Wenqing,” Luo Ji corrected. Then he paused. “That feels rude.”

“It’s not rude,” Han Wenqing said with a sigh, “and Lord Grim can do what he wants. He was prudent in his handling of the situation. I placed you all at risk, though it wasn’t my intention; he was only correcting my mistake.”

Everyone looked between him and Lord Grim. He wondered what his expression revealed—what Lord Grim’s revealed—to deserve such…contemplation.

“No need to be so maudlin,” Lord Grim said, and when Han Wenqing darted a glance up at him, he was all smiles. Then he moved within arm’s reach and held out a small jar to Han Wenqing. “For your hip. We didn’t notice it while you were resting, but this should help.”

Curious, Han Wenqing took it. Salve? “…Thank you.”

“Now, little ones, pack your things and get ready to go,” Lord Grim said with a clap of his hands.

With a few mumbled protests at the address of “little ones,” their charges got to their feet and efficiently rolled up their sleeping bags, dismantled the campfire, and collected what few eating utensils they’d been using. Lord Grim, it seemed, had put away nearly everything else—though that wasn’t much, considering the simplicity of their camp.

While the younglings were occupied, Han Wenqing carefully lowered the top of his trousers and smeared salve over his hip. It didn’t look inflamed, but…

He was painfully aware of Lord Grim standing beside him the entire time, so when he crouched to speak to him, he wasn’t surprised. He was surprised, however, by Lord Grim’s words: “Need any help?”

Han Wenqing huffed. “I’m capable of applying salve myself, and I’m already finished anyway.”

“All right, then, let’s get moving.”

He was briefly confused, but when Lord Grim wrapped a hand around his elbow and tugged upward, Han Wenqing’s mouth did a strange thing where it almost fell open but also tried to bare his teeth. The result was, predictably, heinous.

Lord Grim laughed at him. “Come now, I’m only assisting the injured.”

“You’re annoying the injured, more like,” Han Wenqing snapped. But somehow, he found himself being pulled up anyway, and leaned into Lord Grim almost automatically. He wanted…

But that tantalizingly familiar scent was already gone, replaced by the smell of grass and a barely natural blankness. Lord Grim had already reapplied a scent neutralizer.

Han Wenqing tried not to be offended by that. He had to neutralize his scent to maintain his cover. And it was his choice—Lord Grim can do what he wants. Of course he could.

With the Phoenix, a certain level of secrecy was to be expected. Lord Grim didn’t owe him anything.

* * *

The road became more sophisticated as they traveled eastward, and they often saw settlements tucked into the wilderness: humble houses, barns and paddocks, sometimes even what looked like commerce or an inn placed prominently near the main road.

Regardless of what they saw, however, they did not stop, and the younglings had another lunch of dry rations in the wagon. Ye Xiu and Han Wenqing ate their own rations in the saddle.

It was already late afternoon when Ye Xiu looked around and realized they were on a familiar stretch of road. He straightened and studied their surroundings, ignoring the tiredness that came with almost a full day of riding.

“Something wrong?” Han Wenqing asked, eyeing him worriedly.

“No,” Ye Xiu replied, “but our stop is coming up soon.”

Han Wenqing took a moment to parse that. “Oh. Yes, you mentioned a waypoint before Chalk Town.”

Ye Xiu nodded in satisfaction. He was looking forward to it already; his backside was altogether too eager at the prospect of dismounting. He hadn’t slept much last night, either; a fact he’d been unable to forget the entire day.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Han Wenqing shift in the saddle, expression going a little tight. He said, “I can’t say I’m not glad for it.”

The confession pulled a smile from Ye Xiu. He had been watching Han Wenqing as closely as he watched everything else—there wasn’t much to see in these parts and his traveling companion was as good a distraction as any. While he was confident that Han Wenqing wasn’t about to keel over, he was obviously in some pain. That particular movement and that particular expression had made frequent appearances throughout today’s ride.

It was baffling, really. Han Wenqing revealing such weakness to him seemed beyond absurd.

Maybe…he was trying to make up for the fact that he knew now, and without Ye Xiu’s permission. But Ye Xiu was too pragmatic to blame Han Wenqing; it was his fault he forgot to reinforce the scent neutralizers. True, he hadn’t expected to need to, but it was careless not to consider the possibility. He’d been in combat, which was physically stressful, and then he’d been doused in Han Wenqing’s alpha scent. Of course the neutralizers would lose effectiveness.

Just because he could view it logically, however, didn’t mean he was happy with the situation. He hadn’t wanted anybody to know. Ye Xiu had embraced the confounding anonymity of Lord Grim since abandoning the mantle of General Ye Qiu, and he was loathe to part with it after what happened the last time someone discovered he was an omega.

“Do we take this road?”

Ye Xiu blinked and peered into the shadows Han Wenqing had indicated. Hidden among the trees was a winding path that led uphill, into the rugged bluffs dotting the foot of a mountain.

“Yes,” Ye Xiu said, and urged his horse forward. The rope that connected the oxen to them was tugged in the process, and the wagon creaked slightly as their train picked up a bit of speed.

Going uphill in these parts was always a bit of a battle, but as if to compensate, the roads were usually even and carefully tended to. Although the oxen—and the horses, for that matter—were definitely unhappy with the trek, they still made good time. Only the faintest hint of twilight had touched the sky by the time they crested a particularly steep incline and suddenly beheld a sprawling settlement.

Like all mountain villages, it was quaint, colorful, and mysteriously organized. All the buildings were low, simple constructions, sturdy but indistinct. The function of each was distinguished only by cloth banners that hung over or around their doorways. Small gardens grew between houses, and the trees were decorated with rags, trinkets, and stringed beads. An archway, intricately carved and painted, stood over the path into town.

They were almost immediately noticed by a sentry lingering near the archway, who called a warning to someone before jogging forth to meet them. The woman’s expression was notably stiff, but when she came close enough to clearly identify Ye Xiu, she thawed somewhat.

“Lord Grim,” she greeted. “On time, as always. We already have the provisions you requested for the journey to Chalk Town.”

Ye Xiu smiled at her. This was what he liked about these mountain-dwellers: they were reliable business partners. And also very protective of secrets, their own and others’.

“I will be sure to thank the elders for their hospitality,” Ye Xiu replied. “My companions and I would like to set up camp for the night.”

Obligingly, the sentry led them around the bulk of the settlement, wherein the paths were too narrow for their wagons. There were rough fences and even some walls surrounding parts of the village, none of which constituted a dependable defense.

That was what he didn’t like about mountain-dwellers: they were too set in their ways. They did not believe a threat existed that they could not fight off together. The raiders who had begun roaming these mountains in the past decade had not failed to take advantage.

“We set aside this space for you and yours, Lord,” said the sentry, indicating a small clearing surrounded by spindly trees and fallen leaves. The wagon behind Ye Xiu creaked ominously as one of the wheels rolled over a rock.

Ye Xiu dismounted, barely suppressing a groan as his feet hit dirt, and regarded the clearing. The ground wasn’t the best, a bit rocky and bare, but he couldn’t expect better from these foothills. At least there was enough foliage to provide some shelter from the wind.

“It will do,” Ye Xiu decided. He tossed a glance at Han Wenqing, still mounted and oddly silent, but the king voiced no objections. “Now, can you take me to meet the elders? My friend should have come through here.”

The sentry nodded. “Of course, Lord. Your friend is a guest here, actually. He said he wanted to wait for you.”

Ye Xiu raised an eyebrow, curious. If Wei Chen wanted to deliver news in person, then it must be interesting news indeed.

Or perhaps he just wanted to annoy Ye Xiu some more. One could never tell with Wei Chen.

Han Wenqing swung free of his saddle and dropped to the ground. If Ye Xiu had been a complete stranger to him, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight pause that indicated Han Wenqing was composing himself before he turned around.

“I’ll stay with the younglings, then,” Han Wenqing said, slowly walking over to them. “A fire is fine?”

“It is, just keep it well-contained.”

Han Wenqing grunted, turned his eyes on the sentry, who promptly bowed her head, and told Ye Xiu, “Then we’ll be waiting.”

Ye Xiu offered him a reassuring grin as he followed the sentry away. Some of the younglings stuck their heads out of the back of the wagon to watch him go. He waved at them but said nothing. His mind had already latched onto Wei Chen and the information he’d gathered—the information he apparently deemed necessary to confide in person.

As much as he enjoyed making a nuisance of himself, Wei Chen took his work seriously. He would not waste time in this backwater village on a whim.

It does not have to be bad news, Ye Xiu reminded himself. Even so, he could not shake the dread pooling in his gut.

Chapter Text

Han Wenqing watched over his charges with a keen eye, helping them to unload the necessary supplies from the wagons. Even as he attended to the demands of the moment, however, his thoughts lingered on Lord Grim and the strange expression that had flashed across his face before he left with the village guard.

He need not have worried: Lord Grim soon returned, a rugged-looking man with a scraggly beard and unkempt hair on his heels.

The younglings turned to regard the newcomer with eerie synchronism, their wariness palpable. As he was accompanied by Lord Grim, however, they said nothing.

Lord Grim and his companion walked up to Han Wenqing right away. Han Wenqing had his arms crossed, watching the newcomer, who watched him right back.

“Your Majesty,” Lord Grim said quietly, “this is Old Wei, an agent of the Phoenix. He has information for us, and as some of it pertains to you, I’d like to invite you to join us for a conversation.”

The formality took Han Wenqing by surprise. “Old Wei,” he greeted, his eyes flicking back to the new face. “I believe I’ve heard that name before. You delivered a letter to me, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Old Wei replied. His gaze was calculating, but his expression and even his tone of voice were almost insufferably offhand. “We did promise to make arrangements for you to maintain contact with your adviser. I’m the person in charge of those arrangements.”

Han Wenqing grunted in acknowledgment. “You have my thanks.”

Old Wei shrugged casually, even as a prideful smile split his face. He gestured at both Han Wenqing and Lord Grim. “So, shall we? Where can we talk?”

Lord Grim led the two of them to the wagon the younglings traveled in. With one lamp between them and the curtains drawn, it passed as a private setting.

“Won’t we be overheard?” Old Wei asked with a raised eyebrow as they settled onto the benches.

Han Wenqing sat across from Old Wei, Lord Grim at his side. The arrangement struck him as a bit odd—shouldn’t Lord Grim have been sitting next to Old Wei? “Maybe, but does it matter?”

Old Wei seemed to think about it. Eventually, he shrugged. “It’s your call.”

“Start talking, old man,” Lord Grim said, a hint of impatience showing through his otherwise calm front.

“Who are you calling old?” Old Wei demanded, but not like he truly cared. “Well. The situation with Sun Xiang—I’m sure you know of it—is growing more complicated. His command of his army is… How should I put this? It’s not very professional.” Old Wei looked at Han Wenqing. “He’s not about to respect typical wartime conventions. The residents of the borderlands are unlikely to be treated with anything resembling fairness.”

Han Wenqing grew cold at this information. “You think he’ll persecute even civilians? Unarmed civilians?”

“It’s possible. The greater issue, of course, is that other Eracenti generals will be following his example, likelier than not.”

“We’ve already redirected no small amount of our forces in the north to reinforce the borders,” Han Wenqing admitted. “At least, that’s what my adviser told me.”

Old Wei nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’ve heard. Unfortunately, not all the threatened townships are going to receive those reinforcements in time, by the looks of it. I don’t know what all your adviser has planned, but the Eracenti have overrun about a dozen towns, last I knew, and much of the countryside. The status of your subjects in the affected areas isn’t certain, and unless serious efforts are made to retake lost ground, Sun Xiang will only push harder and deeper into Tyrtellian territory.”

Han Wenqing was clenching his jaw by the time Old Wei stopped speaking. He could not believe the audacity of that Tao Xuan and his boy general.

He tried to rationalize. The Tyrtellian forces would be arriving in a few days, surely; they wouldn’t take that long to mobilize. Travel time was the greatest obstacle in this situation because, while they were on their way, Sun Xiang could rampage freely. But even then, the borderlands between Thousand Peak Pass and Sunlight Forest did not have few forces of their own. There should be enough soldiers in the region to hold back the swelling tide of the Eracenti armies for some time yet, and even if they could only slow them down, they should still be able to evacuate the townships.

“It sounds like Eracent has committed to an invasion,” Lord Grim said quietly.

Han Wenqing was already furious, but at those words, his rage reached a new peak.

Old Wei nodded, leaning against the wooden back of the bench. “That is what it seems like.”

“Tyrtell has survived such attempts at invasion before,” Han Wenqing said with forced neutrality, “and Eracent is in the middle of another civil war. The Eracenti armies weakened significantly in the aftermath of Ye Qiu’s disappearance and internal conflict can only weaken them further. Perhaps Sun Xiang’s army is loyal to him, but the rest may not be the most reliable.”

Lord Grim and Old Wei both looked at him. Then Old Wei glanced at Lord Grim, who sighed softly. “That’s true enough, but ever since Sun Xiang received the king’s favor, new soldiers have joined the ranks, emboldened by Sun Xiang’s ferocity. This has been a point of pride for the king, unsurprisingly. He enjoys bragging, especially to his opposition.”

Han Wenqing growled. “Tao Xuan is playing his games.”

Lord Grim dipped his chin in a slight nod. His eyes fell to the floor as if he were aggrieved. Han Wenqing couldn’t read the look on his face. He looked down as well, suddenly recalling that he had slept on this very floor last night. The moments they’d shared that morning seemed distant and inconsequential.

Han Wenqing was a king whose country was being invaded, and Lord Grim was…whoever he was. A leader in his own right, but with vastly different problems.

He had felt such a strange connection span between them—but now, at the end of the day, Han Wenqing had to admit it was all just his imagination. He and Lord Grim were bound together by a common cause, but when their mission was over, they would part ways. Lord Grim’s mysteries were not for Han Wenqing to unravel.

Han Wenqing decided he could accept that. He had to.

When he looked up again, he found Old Wei glancing between them, an expression of mixed puzzlement, surprise, and glee on his face. Han Wenqing had no idea what he was thinking, but he knew he wouldn’t have liked it if he did.

Old Wei noticed his glare and cleared his throat, composing himself. “That’s all I have to share—it’s a mess in the south, I’m afraid. But I have this for you, Highness…”

Old Wei pulled something from his rather beaten-up cloak and held it out to Han Wenqing.

He took it gladly. “More news from Zhang Xinjie, I imagine,” he murmured, barely restraining himself from reading the contents of the letter then and there.

“You imagine correctly.”

Han Wenqing nodded at Old Wei but did not receive one in turn; Old Wei’s attention was on Lord Grim, who was still staring at the floor, elbows on his knees and hands linked beneath his chin. His gaze was faraway, preoccupied. He was clearly lost in thought.

As if he sensed their scrutiny, Lord Grim straightened and regarded them seriously. “Your Majesty—”

“Han Wenqing,” he corrected.

Lord Grim flapped his hand. “I need to speak to Old Wei about…business matters. If you don’t have any questions…”

Rather than answer directly, Han Wenqing stood. “I’ll go read this.” He eyed Old Wei. “Have you truly shared all you know?”

Old Wei scoffed, offended. “Why would I hide anything? I don’t know when that letter was written, but if it mentions anything I didn’t, then it’s probably because your adviser is closer to the situation than me. My informants wouldn’t have lied to me in any case.”

“Old Wei doesn’t pass on any intelligence he doesn’t think is reliable,” Lord Grim added reassuringly.

“I had to ask,” Han Wenqing replied. “The Phoenix has honored our accord up until now, so I won’t question you further.”

And with that, Han Wenqing left the two of them to themselves. He was no fool: he knew they wanted to discuss matters pertaining to the Phoenix.

Secrecy, he reminded himself. It was none of his business.

* * *

Zhang Xinjie’s letter this time was not very enlightening. It was enough, however, to validate Old Wei’s intelligence, though Zhang Xinjie had more to say about his plans to defend the border than the uncertain fates of the Tyrtellians in the south. It was likely that news from the borderlands was still being dissected and evaluated, providing it had reached the capital at all.

Interestingly, one line made mention of the timing: That assassins should seek to end your life and drive you from Skystone right before a hasty invasion attempt takes place is a stroke of bad luck, but not one that will see us defeated.

Indeed, Han Wenqing thought. What bad luck.

Han Wenqing eventually grew tired of rereading the letter’s contents—there was no more meaning to be extracted from them. The south was in a precarious state, but there should still be time to set it to rights after taking the younglings to Thousand Peak City. If everything went to hell, then Han Wenqing would ask Lord Grim to carry on without him.

Since Lord Grim and Old Wei still appeared to be occupied, Han Wenqing got some writing supplies from his saddlebags and penned his own letter near the firelight. He used the back of a crate as a table.

Much of this information might be out of date by the time it fell into Zhang Xinjie’s hands, but he at least had to be made aware of what happened to the assassins. They still had about a week until they reached the capital, so perhaps Zhang Xinjie could get the investigation moving again in his absence.

“What are you writing?”

Han Wenqing glanced up. Lu Hanwen was sitting the closest to him, huddled in his sleeping bag. He eyed the sheets of paper in front of Han Wenqing curiously.

“A letter to my trusted adviser,” said Han Wenqing. “I have to keep him informed of our progress so far.”

“Oh.” Lu Hanwen chewed his lip. “Will we meet him? Is he in your capital?”

“Yes,” Han Wenqing said. He quickly scrawled a few more lines, summarizing the events of today, which did not consist of much at all. After some thought, he added that he expected to have more information on the borderlands when they reached Chalk Town. He couldn’t care less about what the nobles were up to.

That might not be possible, of course. A lone rider made a lot better time than they could with their two wagons, but Han Wenqing didn’t know how the Phoenix’s network functioned or how quickly Old Wei could get word to him from the capital. But he did know that the Phoenix’s network was incredibly efficient and secretive; how else could they operate as they did? Han Wenqing imagined they used messenger birds. That would be very expensive, but it did not seem like Lord Grim and his agents were hurting for money, even if Old Wei could stand to purchase nicer clothes.

They had significant funding behind them, that was for certain.

By the time Old Wei stepped off the wagon, Han Wenqing had already put away his writing supplies and replaced the crate. He was helping the younglings sort out their rations when he acknowledged the shadowy figure hovering just outside the glow of the firelight.

 “You want food?”

“I would appreciate it, Highness.”

The younglings surreptitiously watched Old Wei while Han Wenqing prepared a bowl for him. He was not exactly accustomed to serving others, but it wasn’t as if he’d never done it before. He had spent plenty of time in the field.

Han Wenqing stood up and took the bowl to Old Wei. As he handed it off, he said, “I have a letter for Zhang Xinjie. I hope you can deliver it with haste.”

Old Wei nodded quickly, then tipped the bowl’s contents into his mouth, ignoring the spoon altogether.

Han Wenqing observed this with some fascination. “In a hurry to be off?”

It took a minute for Old Wei to polish off the bowl. He replied, “Always. Lord Grim knows how to keep a man busy. I’ll take the letter.”

Han Wenqing handed it over as he took the bowl back. Old Wei tucked the letter beneath the folds of his cloak, bowed somewhat mockingly, then promptly walked off.

When the sounds of his footsteps had faded, Luo Ji remarked, “What a strange fellow. Do you suppose he’s really a beta?”

Han Wenqing hadn’t even bothered trying to work that one out—he’d gotten used to the Phoenix’s agents being unidentifiable. The scent neutralizer Lord Grim favored was quite effective, and pretty much impossible to detect. A scientific marvel, really.

“He looks like he’d kill someone for a free dinner,” Dai Yanqi said, “but that’s all I could tell.”

“Why don’t we get those kinds of scent neutralizers,” Shu Keyi muttered.

Han Wenqing regarded them silently for a moment. Eating around the fire, they looked like any group of young travelers.

“I need to go talk to Lord Grim. Shout if you need anything,” he told them before striding toward the wagon.

Lord Grim was still seated inside, leaning against the back of the bench. The fingers of one hand tapped his thigh and the other smoothed over the handle of his umbrella, propped up beside his leg. He raised an eyebrow at Han Wenqing’s entrance.

“I was about to go look for you,” Lord Grim said with an amused smile.

Han Wenqing paused. “What for?”

“Wanted to check on your hip before you slept. I can tell it’s been bothering you.”

Han Wenqing surprised himself by saying, “That would be helpful, thank you.”

Lord Grim’s smile gentled. “All right, wait here and I’ll get your sleeping bag.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s warmer in here, it’ll be better for your old bones.”

He scowled, but that didn’t stop Lord Grim from bypassing him and hopping out of the wagon.

He returned shortly, carrying not only Han Wenqing’s sleeping bag, but an extra blanket and a jar of salve as well. They silently unrolled the sleeping bag on the floor and arranged the blanket over top.

“Undress,” Lord Grim commanded when they were done.

Han Wenqing didn’t have enough modesty to hesitate. He dropped his cloak first, then divested himself of everything but his trousers and boots. His weapons made a tidy pile on the bench.

Lord Grim gestured for him to remain standing, so he did. Careful not to step on anything, Lord Grim sat down right beside him on the bench, at about eye level with his navel.

He studied the bruising on Han Wenqing’s torso with a frown. “Today was not a pleasant day for you, was it?”

Han Wenqing shrugged. He was trying very hard not to notice how close Lord Grim was, but that was impossible. The proximity warmed and chilled him in equal measure.

Lord Grim spread the salve carefully around his bruised sides and back—everywhere he had been hit, or where he had struck the ground ungracefully. His bare fingers were cooled by the salve, but they left trails of heat in their wake, Han Wenqing’s body temperature activating the salve’s healing properties.

“No side effects from your brush with death?” Lord Grim asked, the quiet atmosphere lending seriousness to what was intended as a casual question,

“None that I noticed.” The paralytic was almost certainly purged from his system by now.

His hip was addressed last. Han Wenqing could not restrain a shiver as Lord Grim’s fingers trailed downward. He prodded Han Wenqing’s hip softly, and though it was tender, it was not painful—not now.

“How is this, really? Be honest.”

“It’s been improving since I’ve been walking around.”

Lord Grim hummed. “You ought to do some stretches in the morning. It does look a little inflamed…”

The application of the salve sent goosebumps rippling across Han Wenqing’s skin. The relief was almost instant. In the absence of the ache that had dogged him all day, Han Wenqing’s muscles loosened.

The effect of the salve on him must have been clearly visible because Lord Grim looked up from his administrations to search Han Wenqing’s expression. He chuckled at what he found. “Feels good?”

“Excellent,” he admitted. “I hadn’t realized it was bothering me so much.”

“You’re too accustomed to ignoring pain,” Lord Grim replied as he withdrew his hand.

Han Wenqing caught it before it could get too far from his body. “I have a question.”

Lord Grim stared at him. “Yes?”

“Why do you conceal your omega status?”

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

Han Wenqing shook his head. “I can think of reasons, but I don’t know if those reasons apply to you.”

Lord Grim didn’t answer for a long time, but he didn’t break Han Wenqing’s grip on him either. Not that it could be called a grip—he was just…holding Lord Grim’s hand in his.

Han Wenqing couldn’t explain even to himself how that made him feel. In this moment, he had no doubt that there really was a connection between them; a sense of familiarity-awareness-intimacy that Han Wenqing could not define.

He knew next to nothing about Lord Grim, but his instincts were convinced otherwise.

Maybe if he could sample his scent again… No. He could not ask Lord Grim for that.

“My being an omega has put me in an…uncomfortable position before. I deserted because…” Lord Grim pursed his lips. “There were some things I simply couldn’t accept. That’s all.”

Han Wenqing furrowed his brow. He was aware of what kinds of uncomfortable positions an omega could be placed in, and an omega in the military… Perhaps there had been an arranged marriage involved, one that Lord Grim vehemently objected to? Something that would impact his rank or take him away from army life altogether?

“So now I prefer to masquerade as a beta. It has served me well this far, and nobody knows enough to treat me like that again. It’s like I’m living a whole other life.”

There was no bitterness in Lord Grim’s voice, no resentment. He stated everything in such a factual tone, it was like it didn’t matter to him at all.

(It shouldn’t matter to Han Wenqing, either. It did.)

“I…” Han Wenqing struggled for a second. “You’ve earned my respect—you saved my life. That won’t change no matter who you are.”

Lord Grim gazed up at him with slightly widened eyes. The tiredness that lined his face seemed reduced somehow. He looked…young. Unsure. “What are you saying?”

Han Wenqing squeezed his limp hand gently. He knew that for all their elegance, the grip of these fingers was strong. This hand had probably struck dozens, if not hundreds, of enemies down.

“May I…?”

Lord Grim didn’t move. Han Wenqing raised his other hand to brush his thumb over Lord Grim’s cheekbone. Golden eyes remained fixed on Han Wenqing’s face, their intensity cloaking whatever emotion lay beneath.

Emboldened, Han Wenqing knelt carefully at Lord Grim’s feet, still touching. They hardly breathed as they stared at each other. Then Han Wenqing’s hand cupped Lord Grim’s face firmly, drew him down—

Their lips met somewhere in the middle. Han Wenqing noticed the dryness first, and knew he was no better. He pulled away for a moment to wet his lips, and when they met Lord Grim’s again, it was less a warm touch and more of a wet slide.

Impulsively, he let his tongue dart out—and Lord Grim pulled away with a muffled sound that might have been alarm, or dismay.

Han Wenqing blinked at him. Lord Grim stared back, his gaze luminous.

“Lord Grim?” he asked quietly.

Shaking his head, Lord Grim’s body tipped forward. Han Wenqing let himself list backward and wrapped his arms around the warm weight suddenly pressed against him. As they settled into place, Han Wenqing only had a moment to note how willingly and gracefully Lord Grim’s body molded into his before those dangerous hands were touching him, mapping the musculature of his back.

Han Wenqing breathed in sharply and grabbed Lord Grim’s waist. His mind caught up in the next second, and he realized Lord Grim was straddling him, hovering just above his lap. Another second and Lord Grim pulled back so that they weren’t pressed together anymore.

That hardly made a difference, not when Lord Grim’s heat was like a brand on his flesh. Han Wenqing, puzzled and wanting, stared up into those unreadable eyes. Everything was moving too fast, like they’d skipped several steps before arriving here. What were they even doing?

Maybe his mind hadn’t caught up.

“That was stupid,” Lord Grim whispered roughly, “of both of us.”

Han Wenqing’s grip tightened on his waist. He licked his lips, unsure of how to navigate what his instincts insisted was risky territory.

Well, damn his instincts. They’d warned him, but they hadn’t warned him away. Lord Grim had been receptive. He still was. “And why is that?”

Lord Grim shook his head. After a pause, he said, “I’m sorry.” He made to stand up.

Han Wenqing did not let him—not yet. He leaned forward just enough that their noses touched, hoping very much this wouldn’t backfire. But Lord Grim did not lash out at him the way a threatened omega would. Instead, his breath shivered over Han Wenqing’s mouth like he was fighting not to kiss him.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one quarreling with his instincts. For the enhanced, the line between desire and action was a thin one. A moment of intimacy didn’t have to amount to much.

“Don’t apologize,” Han Wenqing murmured. “If you don’t want this—I understand.”

Lord Grim sighed, shuddery. His hand brushed the side of Han Wenqing’s neck with delicate care. “You don’t understand anything. You would never let me touch you like this if you did.”

“You saved my life.” And he had been so tender with the salve; clinical, but not cold. Han Wenqing wouldn’t have been so forward otherwise.

Lord Grim’s hand spanned across his throat. “And there was a time when I might have killed you.”

“Whatever it is, it’s in the past. It’s behind us.” Things were different now. Evidently.

But Lord Grim shook his head again. “It may be behind us, but not far enough. It can still catch up.”

Han Wenqing studied his expression. He couldn’t deny how solemn Lord Grim was—he believed in what he was saying. And he was not to be convinced otherwise.

Not right now, Han Wenqing assured himself. Maybe another time. They still had about a week together. Maybe…

“I’ll respect your decision,” he said, squeezing Lord Grim’s side gently. They were entangled, still, and Han Wenqing could hardly fathom what it meant—why Lord Grim had allowed any of this at all only to push him away in the end.

Carefully, he continued, “But I still want to invite you to sleep here tonight. You’ve exhausted yourself, and you’re not in much better shape than I am. Let me help you rest.”

Shock finally broke through Lord Grim’s serious mien. “What? That would be—”

“I won’t do anything, so don’t think you have to…” Han Wenqing trailed off. “You know you’ll sleep better beside me. The younglings can look after themselves for a night.”

“That’s not very responsible,” Lord Grim snarked, but he looked tempted.

“It’ll be a very long journey if we can’t do at least this much for each other.”

Lord Grim raised a disbelieving eyebrow, his hand sliding down to rest over Han Wenqing’s heart. “And you trust me that much?”

(He tried not to think too hard about how easily he’d dismissed Lord Grim’s hand on his throat.)

“Yes.”

They didn’t say anything for a time. Then Lord Grim let out another sigh, more exasperated than the last, and rose to his feet. Han Wenqing let him go with only faint regret.

“I’ll go talk to the younglings,” Lord Grim said impassively, leaving Han Wenqing alone.

* * *

Han Wenqing breathed deeply in his sleep, his face more relaxed than Ye Xiu had ever seen it. He almost looked like another person: someone without so many burdens weighing him down, without the experience of years at war.

It was so strange. Ye Xiu couldn’t get over how strange it was. He never expected to get to know Han Wenqing like this, to protect him, touch him, kiss him.

It should never have happened. But Ye Xiu couldn’t help but give in. It had been so warm in Han Wenqing’s embrace, and it had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to put a stop to it before they did something they were sure to regret.

He could not keep up such a deception. Han Wenqing would despise him if he ever found out that the mysterious Lord Grim was General Ye Qiu of Eracent. He was only sparing them potential pain.

Ye Xiu watched over Han Wenqing’s rest for a few minutes longer. It was well past midnight by now. He had managed a few hours of sleep earlier, comfortable with the heat of Han Wenqing’s body so close, but it was about time he got up for guard duty.

He didn’t want to. Even though Han Wenqing had kept his limbs to himself as promised, they lay close together. Ye Xiu had unrolled his sleeping bag next to Han Wenqing’s so they could fit comfortably, but the wagon wasn’t that wide to begin with. Of course they had to be close; of course it felt good to sleep next to someone his instincts (traitorously) equated with strength and safety. Those few hours of sleep had been some of the best Ye Xiu had in weeks.

But this was also further proof of his sudden attachment to Han Wenqing, an attachment that would do neither of them any favors. Distance was necessary to maintain secrecy.

Ye Xiu finally stopped stalling and rose to his feet. In the darkness, he dressed and armed himself, cautious of waking his companion. Once he was ready, he left the wagon without looking back.

The camp was better lit simply by virtue of being outside, under the moon and stars, but it was dark as well. Not even a lamp burned; they were all enhanced anyway. The darkness did not pose a danger to people who could see in it.

Ye Xiu maneuvered around the circle of sleeping bags that had been laid out around the now-cold campfire. Qiu Fei was sitting at the base of a tree at the edge of camp, staring blankly into the distance.

“Time for you to rest, little one,” Ye Xiu said quietly, standing next to him.

Qiu Fei, drawn out of his reverie, blinked up at him. He scowled for a moment before he got up and stretched. “I haven’t heard or seen anything strange.”

Ye Xiu nodded. “Good work. I’ll take it from here.”

He sat in the spot Qiu Fei vacated and soon drifted off into a semi-meditative state. It was an efficient way to keep guard during the lonely night hours: resting the mind while relying on the senses. Ye Xiu trusted himself to detect anyone who might encroach upon their camp even if he wasn’t paying strict attention to his surroundings.

The hours passed peacefully. Ye Xiu got up every forty minutes or so to stretch his legs and sit at different locations. Sometimes he got a little too bored and made rounds around the camp, venturing into the underbrush. Guard duty also required one to stay awake, after all, and moving around helped with that.

Ye Xiu was yawning and eyeing the lightening horizon when an odd noise registered. He turned his head to track the sound.

Suspicious but not yet wary, Ye Xiu tucked himself into the shadows of the trees and padded silently toward the sound’s source.

Still several meters away, he saw the bandit crouched in the foliage.

Immediately, Ye Xiu lowered his body and scanned the woods. They were sparse; there weren’t too many places to hide. As he focused his senses, he was able to spot three more bandits, creeping steadily closer to the camp.

Were they surrounded?

No, they couldn’t be; Ye Xiu would have noticed. And judging by what he could see of their clothing, they were not that well off. Successful bandits were rich bandits, and to be successful, one had to be skilled.

Even outnumbered, Ye Xiu decided, he and the younglings still had a pretty good chance.

Ye Xiu rose from his crouch and raised his fingers to his lips. The piercingly loud whistle he released had the bandits half-rising, their attention centered on him.

Ye Xiu charged.

It wasn’t hard to dispatch the four he had in his sights. A fifth also emerged from the east in an attempt to catch him by surprise, but all of these bandits appeared to be betas and lacked in real combat training, so whatever clever tricks they tried fell terribly short of the mark.

His opponents taken care of, Ye Xiu ran back to camp.

In the clearing, it was controlled chaos. Some of the younglings were fighting openly; others were nowhere to be seen. Ye Xiu took stock of the numbers—about a dozen bandits, and half as many people opposing them. Han Wenqing was there in the fray, dropping enemies like a one-man army.

Ye Xiu was about to jump in when a sharp cry had him spinning around. Behind him, two bandits tried to restrain a squirming Lu Hanwen. Despite his struggles, they were dragging him forcibly toward the meager cover of the woods.

The scene was as horrifying as it was infuriating. Without a second thought, Ye Xiu threw himself in their direction, snarling.

“Lord Grim!” Lu Hanwen shouted, before one of the bandits slapped a hand over his mouth.

Ye Xiu went for that one first. He grabbed him by the arm and twisted it around until he heard a snap. It happened quickly enough that the bandit was not able to resist—he had been too preoccupied with Lu Hanwen. But even as he let out a strangled cry of pain, the bandit released Lu Hanwen to try and stab Ye Xiu with his good arm.

Ye Xiu dodged the strike easily enough. The bandit had a few more swings in him, but Ye Xiu dodged those, too. When he saw an easy opening, he grabbed the bandit’s wrist, jerked him in closer, and slammed his own blade up under his chin.

The bandit collapsed at his feet like a puppet with its strings cut, trying to clutch at his wound. Ye Xiu stepped over him with a feeling of vicious triumph.

Lu Hanwen, left with only one opponent, was doing well for himself. He was at least combat-ready. But this bandit was wilier than the others Ye Xiu had seen, and even as Ye Xiu approached, he managed to score a bloody wound across Lu Hanwen’s bicep.

Ye Xiu knocked the child out of the way as quickly as he could, lunging at the kidnapper with all his calculated ferocity.

And it was going well, truly, until Lu Hanwen tried to help.

“Lu Hanwen, get back!” Ye Xiu yelled, once again trying to knock the child away—but the bandit chose then to strike.

Pain bloomed in Ye Xiu’s side. He stumbled.

“Lord Grim!” Lu Hanwen gasped, just barely managing to steady him.

“Run, you little fool,” Ye Xiu said through gritted teeth. He felt for the wound; his hand came away bloody.

The bandit had backed off temporarily, presumably because he expected Ye Xiu to counter with an attack of his own, but seeing the opportunity he had created, he swiftly moved in again.

A shadow intercepted him before he could take more than two steps. Mo Fan tackled the bandit to the ground, and after a short tussle, the bandit went limp.

As Mo Fan rolled smoothly to his feet, Ye Xiu rounded on Lu Hanwen. “Get somewhere safe,” he snapped. “Mo Fan, take him.”

Mo Fan didn’t argue, just grabbed a protesting Lu Hanwen around the waist and took off toward the wagons. Ye Xiu panted, bending over a little as adrenaline gave way to agony. He’d certainly had worse injuries, but few things hurt quite so loudly as a good stab.

Before he could recover his composure, four more bandits charged out of the trees—and right into him.

“You bastard!” one of them cried as soon as he noticed the bodies on the ground.

“They asked for it,” Ye Xiu said with a steely smile, straightening slowly. He let the knife slip from his fingers and grabbed his umbrella, strapped to his back, with both hands. No more subtlety for me.

“What the hell you gon’ do with that?” another bandit snarled as they closed in around him.

“Kill you, of course.” With a shift of his fingers, the umbrella snapped into another shape entirely: a battle lance, pointed right at the nearest bandit’s head.

What followed was a slaughter, and not the kind Ye Xiu could be proud of. There was nothing particularly skilled or strategic about the way he killed those four bandits. It was just a blur of rage, pain, and the need to survive—the need to protect.

In the aftermath, he stood amidst his victims, breathing hard and not entirely cognizant of what he had done or why. The blood loss left him cold and shaky. The tip of his lance buried itself in the dirt as his arm became too heavy to hold up.

And then Ye Xiu saw him: standing and staring, just staring. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Ye Qiu? Han Wenqing mouthed, or maybe he spoke—Ye Xiu could not hear anything over the thundering beat of his own heart.

He wanted to say something. He had to say something. Ye Xiu opened his mouth—

Too late. The murky red of blood, the gentle colors of dawn, and the dark gray of Han Wenqing’s eyes all faded to black.

Chapter Text

The younglings skirted around him. Their wariness was disheartening, but Han Wenqing knew he deserved some censure. His behavior following Lord Grim’s collapse had not been very becoming.

Some of the villagers—mostly guards, like the woman who’d escorted them to their camp—were helping to remove the bodies. A few bandits had scouted the village while the majority attacked the camp, assuming the pickings would be easier here.

While foods and valuables had gone missing, the village was mostly untouched. Though members of this band had managed to escape with their spoils and their lives, Han Wenqing was confident they would take years to rebuild their numbers and reestablish themselves in these mountains.

No innocent deaths, no property damage, no severe losses—it had turned out for the best. Once the bodies were dragged off and disposed of, the blood would dry into the dirt and it would be as if nothing had happened.

Except something had happened. Han Wenqing had seen something he shouldn’t have, and now the knowledge was burned into his mind.

Lord Grim, the same person who saved his life, whom he had come to trust in such a short time, was the disappeared Eracenti General Ye Qiu, a fearsome warrior who’d abandoned his country and betrayed his king.

And Han Wenqing’s most dangerous enemy.

They had met in battle for the first time ten years ago. War had just begun to sweep across the continent, the Janar Region challenging the supremacy of the Great Kingdoms. North and south clashed even as internal conflicts and ancient grudges hamstringed the Great Kingdoms’ offensive. Han Wenqing was not yet a king, but already a prominent figure in Tyrtell’s civil war, struggling against enemies within his country as well as without.

Back then, Han Wenqing had felt like the whole world was his enemy.

In the meantime, the Eracenti civil war—now known as the First Mid-War of Eracent—had still been young, and in its midst, Ye Qiu emerged as the proud scion of the Ye family. They had been among the most prominent backers of Eracent’s Middle Era dynasty. Ye Qiu’s loyalty and strength prompted Tao Xuan, then prince, to send him to fight at the border with Tyrtell, presumably to show off his military might. And there, Han Wenqing had been waiting.

He had been eighteen; Ye Qiu, sixteen. Both had understood that there was nothing behind the battle but politics. They fought, but neither of them tried especially hard to kill.

Though Han Wenqing was oblivious to it at the time, that first meeting had set the tone for all their other battlefield encounters. And there were many of those over the years.

So many opportunities to kill each other. So many times they had come close to doing just that. But here they were now: Han Wenqing, a warrior king temporarily in hiding, and Ye Qiu, leader of an underground militia of freedom fighters and spies who owed allegiance to no one.

Han Wenqing turned to the younglings, most of whom had gathered around the supply wagon. “If you haven’t eaten, get some breakfast now. Feed the animals, too. We’ll be leaving soon.”

With that, he strode in the direction of the other wagon. He felt the eyes on his back as he walked away and tried not to feel guilty for his brusqueness.

There were only so many things he could handle in a morning. He was doing his best. He’d make it up to them later, once he…came to terms with this strange new circumstance.

Inside the wagon, Ye Qiu had been laid out on the rumpled sleeping bags. His shirt, vest, jacket, and weapons were piled on one bench; on the other was a treatment kit. An Wenyi was kneeling beside him, carefully cleaning dirt and gore off Ye Qiu’s pale, scarred skin. The wound in his side, a clean stab just below his ribs, was covered by a thick bandage that looped around his waist.

“How is he?” Han Wenqing asked, carefully closing the curtain behind him.

“Mostly all right, so far as I can tell. He hasn’t woken up once since I started, but his heart is going strong.” An Wenyi hesitated. “He needs to recover all the blood he lost as soon as possible, though.”

Han Wenqing sighed. He expected as much, but it unsettled him to see Ye Qiu so still and white. This was the same man whose people practically worshiped him as a battle god. His banishment had not done much to weaken that belief at all. Power was almost intrinsic to Ye Qiu’s image.

“I’ll watch over him for now. You go eat. Come let me know when everyone’s had breakfast.”

“How are we going to continue like this?” An Wenyi asked bluntly, eyeing Han Wenqing. “Do we move him to the other wagon? We can’t leave him in this village, can we?”

Han Wenqing shook his head. “I’ll inform you when I decide. We will be leaving within the hour.”

“…Fine.”

“Nobody else was injured, were they?” Han Wenqing asked belatedly.

About to hop off the wagon, An Wenyi turned to face him. “Only minimally. Lu Hanwen had everyone worried, but he’ll be perfectly fine.”

Han Wenqing nodded, relieved. He should have asked sooner, but he’d been—preoccupied. Foolishly so.

An Wenyi left. Han Wenqing sighed again and knelt beside the slumbering Ye Qiu. Now that it was just the two of them, he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here.

He looked down at Ye Qiu, regretful. He regretted their bloody history, that they had been enemies up until now, that any relationship between them had likely been doomed from the start. But he was angry, too. Disappointed.

Ye Qiu hadn’t been wrong. The past was not so far behind them after all, and the connection they shared was not so innocent.

What did any of it mean now, if it had ever meant anything to begin with?

He should have listened to his instincts. He should have not listened to his instincts. He should have—

“Han…Wenqing?”

Ye Qiu’s rough voice startled him out of his reverie. Han Wenqing scrambled for impassivity, neutrality, anything that could aid him.

“Yes,” he replied, determinedly meeting Ye Qiu’s golden eyes. They were more dazed than he’d ever seen them (except for when we kissed—).

“What happened? Did I faint?”

“Blood loss. Your wound has been treated, but you’ll feel weak for some time.”

“Ah…” Ye Qiu blinked slowly up at the wagon’s canvas ceiling. Abruptly, it occurred to Han Wenqing that Ye Qiu couldn’t know he knew. He had been out cold before Han Wenqing could confront him.

Everything had changed for him, but Ye Qiu… He had known all along.

“I thought you were an alpha,” he blurted.

Ye Qiu’s gaze dropped back down. “What?”

“Everyone did, really. I suppose, if you can masquerade as a beta, it would be no trouble to pretend to be an alpha.”

Ye Qiu was staring openly now. He seemed like he was trying to parse Han Wenqing’s words and was falling a bit short. But just when Han Wenqing thought he’d have to elaborate, understanding flooded Ye Qiu’s expression.

After that, there was trepidation, worry, sadness. Then, nothing at all.

“I am very used to deception,” he admitted.

“You must have thought it a very simple matter to deceive me.”

Ye Qiu pursed his lips. With a controlled breath and a wince, he rose onto his elbows.

Han Wenqing almost told him not to move but held himself back. What business did he have showing concern for a once-enemy?

“Don’t pretend to not understand the necessity,” Ye Qiu snapped with unexpected ferocity. “If you had sent someone else in your place or no one at all, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Why should I reveal myself to the people I work with? Why should I put all my agents, our very cause, at risk for the sake of honesty? Tao Xuan has a bounty on my head that could pay off half his debts.”

“I never expected complete disclosure,” Han Wenqing argued, “but when you—I shared something with you I don’t easily share with anyone. You let me hold you, touch you, when you knew I had no idea who you were!”

“Well, that was why I stopped you! I told you—I knew this is how it would go if you ever realized the truth! I knew you would never accept me.”

“Do not make this about me.”

“How can it not be about you?” Ye Qiu demanded, disbelieving. A hint of red colored his cheeks. “You can’t pretend my identity would mean nothing even if you felt nothing. You can’t pretend you wouldn’t have abandoned this mission if you had found out. You can’t tell me you would have wanted me.”

“How the hell would you know what I want!”

Ye Qiu finally lay back again, breathing laboriously and more dazed than before. The slight flush on his face was gone; he now looked grayer than when Han Wenqing had walked in.

He was so angry, he couldn’t put it into words. But he didn’t even know what he was angriest about anymore. The deception? Of course, but Han Wenqing could understand it. The sense of betrayal? It wasn’t completely rational, he admitted to himself, but if Ye Qiu had had any consideration for his feelings at all, he would have denied Han Wenqing that kiss, that embrace. Then Han Wenqing couldn’t have convinced himself that maybe, maybe, they had a chance.

Even with all that, though, Han Wenqing was furious—absolutely furious—at the implication that he wouldn’t have felt anything for Lord Grim if he’d known he was Ye Qiu. He was furious because he suspected it was true.

If Ye Qiu had saved his life, he would have been grateful, but distant. If Ye Qiu had earned his trust, he would have been an ally, but nothing more. If Ye Qiu had slept next to him—well, that would never have happened at all.

He would never have been so vulnerable, so desirous, so real in front of Ye Qiu. But he had been.

Han Wenqing closed his eyes. He had been vulnerable, he had been desirous, he had been real. Ye Qiu had saved his life. He had earned his trust, and he had slept next to him.

Lord Grim had not suddenly become another person. This person…was his old enemy all along.

Suddenly, he felt like an idiot. He was an idiot. He was yelling at an injured man who couldn’t even defend himself properly. There were few things more imbecilic.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly as Ye Qiu’s breathing calmed. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. And I do understand your perspective. I was the one who got carried away. For my own hurt feelings, I am the most at fault.”

Ye Qiu’s expression was blank. Han Wenqing couldn’t tell if he felt anything other than stunted surprise.

“It’s all right. Let us forget and move on. Will you abandon the mission?”

“No,” Han Wenqing replied. “I intend to honor our deal.”

“And when the deal is done?”

Han Wenqing knew what he asked. “I will not persecute you or the Phoenix. It doesn’t matter who you are, you still saved my life.” And he would have a hell of a time explaining himself to the younglings, besides.

“You have my thanks. How long was I…?”

Han Wenqing sighed. “It’s morning still. You collapsed almost two hours ago.”

“Then we can still proceed as scheduled.” Ye Qiu appeared marginally relieved.

Han Wenqing’s spine stiffened when Ye Qiu started pushing himself up again. “You shouldn’t…”

“I must,” Ye Qiu said, straining, and managed to come to his knees. Han Wenqing couldn’t decide whether to be more impressed or concerned.

“Are you trying to stand?”

“Obviously.”

“You can’t be walking around this soon,” Han Wenqing protested, rising quickly to his feet. Arm wrapped around himself, Ye Qiu tried to do the same.

“I just need to sit. Have to make room for the younglings,” he panted, trembling with pain.

Han Wenqing hesitated, but chose care over caution. He slowly placed one hand on the outside of Ye Qiu’s arm and the other on his waist, opposite his wound.

Ye Qiu didn’t seem to register the touch at first, which was as good a sign as any that he was truly unwell. When he did, however, he tried to flinch back—but Han Wenqing held him fast, unwilling to let him hurt himself further.

“Let me help,” he said.

With a tired expression, Ye Qiu studied him. Han Wenqing tried to appear as earnest as possible.

“Fine,” Ye Qiu muttered, his eyes flashing with some unnamed emotion. He looked down before Han Wenqing could do more than notice.

It was difficult, but with some effort and pain, they managed to get Ye Qiu sitting on the bench. Han Wenqing rolled up the sleeping bags, helped Ye Qiu arm himself as thoroughly as possible given he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and then draped a blanket over him.

Ye Qiu silently watched him through it all, exhausted by his previous exertions. With the slump to his shoulders and the umbrella-shaped weapon in his lap, he looked like a world-weary soldier waiting for the reaper to fetch his soul.

Han Wenqing shook the morbid thought from his mind and met Ye Qiu’s eyes, opening his mouth. Somehow, he forgot what he was going to say—or more accurately, he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“…I will see if the younglings have finished eating.”

Running away left a bad taste in his mouth, but Han Wenqing could do little with the situation until he figured out a winning strategy. Ye Qiu had never been an easy person to deal with, and this didn’t change just because they weren’t enemies.

Fight another day, he told himself as he left the wagon. They still had a week; it had to be enough.

“How is he?” Luo Ji asked worriedly when Han Wenqing approached the supply wagon. “We thought we heard you talking…”

Yelling, more like, but Han Wenqing didn’t comment. “Finished your breakfast?”

“Yes, now what about Lord Grim?” Lu Hanwen demanded.

“He’s awake and sitting up. He will be traveling in the wagon with the rest of you.”

The younglings looked at each other, communicating in silence. While they decided how to feel about their new companion, Han Wenqing inspected the supply wagon. The provisions the villagers had brought for them were already loaded, and the clearing itself was completely empty. Blood darkened the dirt here and there, but the bodies were gone. The villagers were nowhere to be seen.

Han Wenqing eyed the position of the sun. “We should get moving. Bring something for Lord Grim to eat.”

“I hate dealing with the injured,” Tang Hao muttered as he unfolded from his slouch.

“Don’t be an ass, he kept them from taking Little Lu,” Lou Guanning said.

“Yes, but was that really doing us a favor?”

Lu Hanwen sputtered. “Hey!”

“Tang Hao, shut up,” Dai Yanqi said, irate.

Bickering mildly, they all trooped toward their wagon. Han Wenqing rubbed a hand over his face, sighed at the world, and went to get the horses.

He was beginning to realize that staying in the capital might have been easier on his nerves. It certainly would have been easier on his heart.

* * *

Three days passed in tense monotony. Han Wenqing barely spoke to him in that time.

Ye Xiu couldn’t say he minded too much. Han Wenqing was not someone he wanted to argue with when he was in this condition. And since Ye Xiu couldn’t stay on his feet long enough to put distance between them and the younglings, it was better if they kept their mouths shut. Worse than arguing at all would be to argue in front of them.

Their schedule wasn’t significantly impacted by the bandit attack, and frankly speaking, with how eventful this journey had been already, Ye Xiu was surprised that they were proceeding almost exactly as planned. He supposed that if anything could be said for himself and Han Wenqing, it was that they were determined.

“Have some water,” An Wenyi said, passing him a flask.

Ye Xiu took it gratefully and sipped. The water hitting his throat was a relief; his mouth felt so dry.

The younglings eyed him intently as he returned the flask with a trembling hand and leaned heavily against the back of the bench. The blanket around him seemed to have lost some of its warming properties; he was unreasonably cold.

“He doesn’t look so good,” Lu Hanwen whispered, none too subtly.

Ye Xiu dragged his eyes in the child’s direction. “He doesn’t feel so good, either.”

“I think you may have a fever,” An Wenyi said, and a moment later, the back of his hand was resting lightly against Ye Xiu’s forehead. “You do.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ye Xiu said with a drawn-out sigh.

“You should have said something,” An Wenyi grumbled.

“We don’t have medicine here. There is nothing that can be done about it.”

Qiu Fei frowned at him. “We can stop for medicine, can’t we?”

“In Chalk Town, yes,” Ye Xiu said and closed his eyes.

It was quiet after that. Perhaps they wanted to let him sleep.

But Ye Xiu couldn’t sleep. He had done nothing but sleep for the better part of two days. Following their departure from the village, he’d been in too much pain to rest well, and it was only when An Wenyi had found some very specific herbs near their nightly camp that Ye Xiu was relieved of the worst of it. He was knocked right out.

Bless that boy, honestly.

Now he found himself with a somewhat unique problem: a wearied body and an active mind. His thoughts ran back and forth between the mission, the Phoenix, the brewing war, and Han Wenqing. There was too much happening, and on top of it all, he had to go and get himself injured.

He cursed his foolishness. It had been a long time since Ye Xiu had been hurt this badly. He knew better by now, but that lowly bandit had gotten him good.

The weight of his umbrella across his lap was his only real comfort. Ye Xiu was weak as a kitten right now, but he could probably defend himself if the occasion demanded it. He just very much hoped any such occasion would wait a few days.

The wound was healing well, all told—or it had been. Now that he had a fever, Ye Xiu wondered if he’d somehow gotten the nasty thing infected. If so, he could fall gravely ill and even die…but that did not bear contemplating. Ye Xiu had dealt with infections before, and the enhanced were notorious for their resilience. His constitution should hold up. And once they got to Chalk Town…

He would be fine, he told himself. He just had to keep it together for today.

Ye Xiu opened his eyes. It was harder than expected, his eyelids heavier than usual.

“He’s awake,” Mo Fan’s apathetic voice announced.

“Lord Grim, eat this,” Dai Yanqi said, passing him a ration bar.

Ye Xiu took it hesitantly. He almost didn’t trust himself to hold it, but he managed to wrap his fingers around it and bring it to his mouth. It didn’t taste like anything.

“He seems out of it,” someone murmured; he couldn’t tell who.

“I think he’s getting worse.”

The light, Ye Xiu noticed, was different. The sun seemed to be lower in the sky. Had so much time passed? He must have fallen asleep. The younglings seemed to think so, anyway, but he could have sworn he’d just closed his eyes for a bit.

Ye Xiu couldn’t finish the ration bar, so he rewrapped it clumsily and set it on his lap, next to the umbrella. Someone took it away, though.

“Drink more water, Lord Grim.” That was An Wenyi.

What a nice boy, Ye Xiu thought as he drank some water. Cold in appearance, perhaps, but certainly not cold-hearted. He would go far in life, Ye Xiu was certain of it.

After that, Ye Xiu seemed to lose time again. He had been struggling to sleep earlier, yet now he couldn’t seem to stay awake. But did it count if he woke up every time feeling even less rested than before?

Now his mind was just as exhausted as his body.

The wagon did stop eventually—that was how he knew the day must be over. It seemed to have passed too quickly, but the inside of the wagon was already dark. He was alone.

It was time to make camp, Ye Xiu concluded after a truly massive mental effort. If the younglings were not in here, they must be outside.

He wanted to help—he tried to. But he couldn’t even get his feet under him without swaying. The physical world had stopped making sense to him, like everything had been moved a few centimeters to the left while he was sleeping.

He was confused, he was vulnerable, and he was alone. Should he be afraid? That seemed sensible.

Ye Xiu huddled into his blanket with a shaky breath and tried to think about something productive. He’d been full of thoughts earlier that day, hadn’t he? Important thoughts, relevant thoughts. So many problems weighing on his mind…yet none of it seemed to matter. Ye Xiu was too busy entertaining imaginary threats that could come upon him at any moment.

“Ye Qiu?” said a voice, and suddenly Ye Xiu wasn’t afraid.

Shivering uncontrollably, he looked up into a familiar face. It took a little while for his brain to connect that face to a name, but when it did, Ye Xiu reached out. Or he attempted to. “Han Wenqing…”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t realize you were awake,” said the voice—Han Wenqing’s voice. His figure was little more than a shadow against the deep blue of twilight. “I rode into Chalk Town while the younglings made camp.”

Ye Xiu was puzzled. “Chalk Town? We’ve arrived?” They were supposed to be arriving soon, right?

“We’re a few hours out, less than that on horseback. I needed to send another letter to Zhang Xinjie. He’ll be meeting us there.”

“What are you doing?” Ye Xiu asked, his mind skipping over everything Han Wenqing just said. It registered somewhere, but he was certain he didn’t need to address it right now.

Han Wenqing, who had been moving around and…doing things, looked up. “I am setting out our sleeping bags, Ye Qiu. I know you would never approve of this if you were in your right mind, but your condition has worsened. I’ll stay with you tonight.”

“I sleep alone,” Ye Xiu muttered. He wasn’t terribly sure of much, anymore, but he was sure of this. He didn’t accept comfort from many people.

He must have lost some time again, because before he knew it, Han Wenqing was in front of him. Arms wrapped around his blanketed body, holding him securely. He was lifted onto his feet and then gently picked up.

Ye Xiu had no idea what was happening. Nobody had ever handled him in such a way as far as he knew.

A blink. Han Wenqing was setting him down on something warm and relatively soft. The chill that had clung to him nearly all day abated. Another blink. He was lying on his back, taking pressure off the ache in his side. It was…comfortable.

Han Wenqing had put him to bed, he realized. He was just self-aware enough to be embarrassed by that. How had it come to this? He’d been relatively all right up until now, hadn’t he? He had been putting himself to bed just fine.

Something touched his lips before he could question it. There was a hand on the back of his head, tipping it forward. “Open your mouth.”

Ye Xiu did, bewildered, and an indefinable flavor spread over his tongue. Whatever it was he had just eaten, his taste buds were too affected to identify it, but it had a weird texture. He swallowed quickly.

His throat hurt. Ye Xiu coughed a little, and then there was water. Glorious water.

“You better not be dehydrated,” Han Wenqing muttered, taking the flask away.

Ye Xiu leaned his head back. He was so tired.

Heat suddenly pressed up against his side. Ye Xiu turned and saw Han Wenqing next to him, lying down and pulling the blankets up over them both. One of his arms carefully settled across Ye Xiu’s chest.

This couldn’t be right. There was a good reason for Han Wenqing to not be doing this. Why was he doing this? Ye Xiu wanted to ask him, but the question died somewhere between his heart and his lips.

The comfort Han Wenqing’s touch brought him was undeniable. He could smell him so clearly like this. Alpha scent in such proximity was not something Ye Xiu enjoyed, but Han Wenqing’s scent was certainly more welcome to him than that of the younglings, half-suppressed. He did not want to erase it or move away from it—the opposite, actually.

He let his hand rest on Han Wenqing’s forearm. The skin was warm and not entirely smooth. Ye Xiu spread his fingers, traced the contours of it, felt the muscle and the hardness of bone.

A hot breath bloomed against the side of his face. A moment later, Han Wenqing buried his nose in Ye Xiu’s neck. Despite the fever he knew he had, Han Wenqing’s heat was startling.

“I like the way you smell.”

Something about that sentence should have been alarming, but Ye Xiu couldn’t find it in himself to be anything but flattered.

A moment later, Han Wenqing said, “I really am sorry.”

He sounded like he was talking to himself, like he didn’t think Ye Xiu was listening. But Ye Xiu was, of course.

I’m sorry, too, he thought. What came out of his mouth was, “Stay with me…”

The arm around him shifted the slightest bit. Han Wenqing pressed his lips to his temple, then rubbed their cheeks together. Ye Xiu made an encouraging noise. He wanted more of that.

“I will not leave you like this. Go to sleep; you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Safety, Han Wenqing’s words promised. And his scent, his touch, his very presence—all of it promised the same thing. Ye Xiu inhaled as deeply as he could.

“Please hang on.”

He would. He had to hang on; what else could he do? They still had a mission to complete. The younglings…and the Phoenix. Tao Xuan and Sun Xiang. And beyond all that—Han Wenqing.

“Stay with me.”

* * *

Han Wenqing woke up smelling like omega.

He didn’t linger on it. There was no feeling of triumph, no sense of accomplishment. Ye Qiu had not invited him to share his bed; Han Wenqing had invited himself out of necessity.

But he couldn’t deny that there was something reassuring about it. Someone he cared for was terribly ill, but his scent was so alive. And since Han Wenqing had to ride while Ye Qiu traveled in the wagon with the younglings, being able to carry that scent with him felt like nothing less than a gift.

Their party left behind the creek they had made camp next to and returned to the road. The early morning sun was gentle, and though the hours went by unbearably slowly, the increased signs of human occupation raised Han Wenqing’s spirits. They would be in Chalk Town soon, and there Ye Qiu would receive the help he needed.

Zhang Xinjie would still take some time to arrive, of course. He was not a man who appreciated a sudden turn of events, but he was loyal, and he would do what needed to be done. Han Wenqing had no doubt he would make haste.

They rounded the base of a low hill, moving in tandem with other wagons, carriages, and caravans on the now-busy road, and Chalk Town appeared before Han Wenqing’s eyes.

Although it was called a town, it was as densely populated and vibrantly active as any city. There wasn’t an abundance of grandiose buildings, so most people didn’t think much of Chalk Town, but it was an ideal home for many: bustling enough for a business and peaceful enough for a growing family.

Once they entered the outskirts, Han Wenqing started seeing guards here and there, haunting street corners or directing traffic. A pair of them were inspecting a supply wagon similar to theirs on the side of the road.

Nobody bothered Han Wenqing’s party. He sensed no eyes on him and did not detect any followers. It seemed they were safe.

“Han Wenqing.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Ye Qiu was peeking out of the window at the front of the wagon, holding the curtains aside. His face was a little flushed, but he seemed lucid enough. And the way he looked at Han Wenqing, with a hint of hesitance overlaid with resolve, indicated that he was as aware of what had happened last night as Han Wenqing was.

Of course he's aware, Han Wenqing huffed to himself. Even if Han Wenqing had awakened before him, surely Ye Qiu smelled enough like him to…

Focus. Whatever Ye Qiu smells like doesn’t matter right now. “Yes?”

“Go to Rising Phoenix Inn.”

Han Wenqing nodded and didn’t question it. Ye Qiu retreated, letting the curtains fall back into place.

He had to ask around, but eventually, one of the guards pointed him in the right direction. The man gave him a strange look as they spoke—he must be a particularly sensitive beta. Han Wenqing ignored the speculation in his eyes and led their caravan toward the inn, near the town center.

Before they could reach their destination, the bell at the top of the southernmost watchtower rang.

Han Wenqing turned to the south, stopping his horse. The movement on the streets slowed. People looked at each other’s faces with puzzlement, muttering.

He narrowed his eyes and listened carefully.

Two rings in quick succession. Another two. And another… Five sets of two.

Three of two meant Chalk Town was under potential threat. Four of two meant to seek shelter. Five of two warned of imminent danger.

Han Wenqing pictured a map of Thousand Peak Pass in his head, then recalled Zhang Xinjie’s letters and Old Wei’s intelligence. He calculated the distance from here to the borderlands.

It had been over three days… It was possible. It was more than possible, it was likely.

An army was marching for Chalk Town.

Chapter Text

There was no time to waste. Han Wenqing leapt off his horse and strode hastily to the nearest guards, who were looking around with wide eyes as if visualizing the disaster that was about to strike.

They didn’t have to wait long for their fears to come true. Even as Han Wenqing made his way over to them, the pedestrians and travelers seemed to realize what danger they may be in and began to panic all at once. There was shouting, shoving, and even a scream or two as everybody scrambled to safety.

Amid the madness, Han Wenqing was like a rock in a river, standing steady in the turbulent currents.

Naturally, the guards noticed him. While one tried to yell for order, the other turned to face him, frowning. “Sir, you need to—”

Han Wenqing recognized the oh-no-it’s-a-noble expression and easily ignored it. “I am Han Wenqing, your king. I command you to escort my caravan to Rising Phoenix Inn; it should be near here. I must go meet our forces past the watchtower.”

The guard stared at him, aghast. “You’re… I can’t just take your word for it! Er, sir.”

Patience running thin, Han Wenqing reached beneath his cloak and pulled out a ring. It was a somewhat gaudy thing, and entirely impractical, but it was memorable. The stone set into it was large and red, the metal band engraved with words in a language few recalled anymore.

Most important of all, this was not a ring many had seen—but its description was known to all government officials and their direct subordinates. Including city guards.

“Do you need me to recite the words?” Han Wenqing asked, the don’t waste my time implicit in his tone.

The guard gaped at the ring for a long moment, but eventually, he pulled himself together and bowed as deeply as he could. “My king, I will do as you say. Old Bo!”

The other guard, who had dared to wander into the street to shout reason at people, swiveled around. “What!”

“Come, we have a job to do! Quickly, quickly!”

Han Wenqing accompanied them to the wagons, intent on making sure they really did as they were told. He also had to explain the situation to the younglings.

And Ye Qiu.

He swallowed. This was truly a dreadful time for Ye Qiu to be wounded. He should not have to put up with so much stress. It would surely set back his already difficult recovery.

While one guard secured his horse and the other went to check on the supply wagon, which had thankfully not been overrun by panicked passersby, Han Wenqing opened the curtain to the first wagon’s entrance.

Inside, the younglings stared at him with anticipatory gazes.

“There is something happening, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. It appears Chalk Town may be under attack. You will be taken care of while I handle whatever it is.”

“What?” Tang Hao demanded. “You’re sending us away?”

“I’m sending you to safety. All civilians will be under lockdown until this is resolved. You can’t stay on the streets.”

“We’re not civilians!” Dai Yanqi cried.

“You are,” Han Wenqing replied with a glare. “For all intents and purposes, you are civilians, and I promised to keep you safe. I’ve ordered the guards outside to take you to the inn Ye—Lord Grim mentioned. Do not wander off once you get there.”

“Listen to him,” Ye Qiu said, voice a little rough. His face was white, his eyes drooping with the weight of restless nights. “We can’t stay here.”

“Some of us can go with him,” Shu Kexin argued. “Some of us can help.”

“That’s not your job,” Han Wenqing growled.

“So what! We can still help,” Lou Guanning said.

“And leave Lord Grim behind? And what about Little Lu, or the rest of you who were hurt a few days ago?” An Wenyi demanded.

Lu Hanwen stared guiltily down at the wooden floor. Shu Keyi patted his shoulder in an absentminded gesture, her eyes darting between Han Wenqing and the other younglings.

Tang Hao scoffed. “Scrapes and bruises. An Wenyi, you can stay with Lord Grim and Hanwen at the inn. The rest of us ought to go.”

Damn it all, Han Wenqing thought, already despairing. They were literally making plans with him standing right here. They were going to come with him whether he liked it or not.

“An Wenyi, Luo Ji, Lu Hanwen, Mo Fan, and Qiu Fei, you go to the inn and stay with Lord Grim. The rest of you, follow me.”

“What?” Ye Qiu said, startled.

Han Wenqing stepped aside to let the five whose names he hadn’t called come out, then climbed into the wagon himself. He looked the remaining younglings in the eye.

“Protect him, and guard yourselves. It could be that someone will use this opportunity to strike at him or take you away. You must not be lax.”

“We won’t,” Qiu Fei said solemnly.

“We’ll do our best,” Luo Ji said with a glance at Mo Fan beside him, who looked like he was trying as hard as possible to pretend this conversation had nothing to do with him.

“Mo Fan?” Han Wenqing said, arching an eyebrow.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied coldly.

“And Little Lu will listen to me, won’t you, Little Lu?” An Wenyi asked.

“Yes…”

He supposed that was the best he could ask for.

Han Wenqing turned to look at Ye Qiu, who was staring at him like he didn’t understand anything anymore. “I’m sorry. You know they would never accept being left behind.”

Ye Qiu clearly struggled to formulate a response. He seemed uncertain, helpless; the expression didn’t suit him. In Han Wenqing’s mind, Ye Qiu should always be resolute.

Unwilling to resist the urging of his instincts, Han Wenqing stepped closer and knelt before Ye Qiu’s huddled form, resting his hands lightly on Ye Qiu’s knees.  “Please do not do anything reckless. They’ll need you.”

He purposely said nothing about what he needed. At the moment, all he could wish for was Ye Qiu’s safety.

“All right,” Ye Qiu whispered. “We’ll look forward to your triumphant return.”

Han Wenqing returned his tiny smirk with a grim smile of his own. “I’ll protect them. I promise.”

“…I’ll hold you to that.”

He rose to his feet and turned, ready to exit the wagon.

“And Han Wenqing—”

He paused, listening.

“Don’t forget to hit him where it hurts,” Ye Qiu said intently.

Hit him where it hurts? Han Wenqing didn’t know what that meant—he’d never fought Sun Xiang before.

Nonetheless, he nodded. He was sure he would find out.

* * *

Han Wenqing and his small entourage followed the smoke signals to the very edge of Chalk Town.

Chalk Town had the benefit of hosting a battalion of soldiers—the barracks could house about five companies in total, though only two were permanently stationed in the area. It was customary for soldiers to train in Chalk Town before leaving for contested borders, particularly in the east and south. Being that the threat of Eracent and the other Great Kingdoms had been much reduced in the past year or so, neither the training facilities nor the barracks were at their full capacity.

That did not mean that their numbers were too few to meet the incoming army, however.

Soldiers bowed as he walked past; word had apparently spread. The younglings trailing behind him didn’t noticeably react, but he thought he heard a rather judgmental huff from Tang Hao.

Han Wenqing strode right up to the highest commanding officer he could find: Bai Yanfei.

“Report,” he barked, crossing his arms expectantly.

Bai Yanfei bowed his head. He had been stationed in the capital for some time and had even received training lessons from Han Wenqing. They also fought together on the front during the height of the Rift Wars four years ago. It could be said they were quite familiar with each other, and on friendly terms.

But Bai Yanfei was all business as he described the situation. “They’re coming through the hills; they’ve completely taken over the main thoroughfare as of this morning. Before then, they were doing their best to conceal their presence, perhaps traveling by night. It’s my belief that they must have killed the scouts set on their trail while they rampaged in the borderlands.”

“That would explain the lack of forewarning,” Han Wenqing agreed with a scowl. As much as he loved Thousand Peak Pass, the Damalgan Range was not always an enthusiastic ally. If the Tyrtellians could use the terrain to their advantage, an invading army could as well.

“While they’re still a distance away, they’ll probably be within sight soon,” Bai Yanfei said. Then his brow wrinkled a bit. “Highness, if I may ask…”

“Yes?”

“Who are these youths behind you?”

Han Wenqing turned his head slightly and saw the five younglings practically plastered to his back, listening to the conversation with rapt attention.

“Don’t concern yourself with them,” Han Wenqing said, doing his best to sound stern.

Bai Yanfei’s eyebrows rose, and he took a tiny step back, his alpha scent temporarily receding. “Very well.”

Han Wenqing sighed. “I have to keep an eye on them, and they’re determined to help. Though they’re civilians, they are also combatants.”

Bai Yanfei nodded as if he understood, though Han Wenqing could tell he very much didn’t. “I see… We can watch over them for you, Your Majesty, just say the word.”

“I will personally see to their safety, but more eyes would be appreciated.”

“We don’t need minders,” Shu Kexin said, frowning.

Han Wenqing spun around to glower at her. “You will do as you are told, or you will return to the city and await me there. Bringing you here is already a massive concession on my part.”

Dai Yanqi elbowed Shu Kexin and nodded at Han Wenqing. “We know, we know. We just want to help, not be treated as burdens.”

Han Wenqing didn’t have the heart to tell them that was basically what they would end up being, like it or not. He must be getting soft in his old age.

“Avoid putting yourselves in more danger than necessary and stay close to me should a fight break out,” Han Wenqing ordered. “As long as you do this, I probably won’t come to regret indulging you.”

Tang Hao’s eyes narrowed at his word choice, but he grunted in acknowledgment. The others nodded their acquiescence.

Satisfied, Han Wenqing turned back to Bai Yanfei, who was eyeing him oddly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bai Yanfei said quickly, “but Highness, do you think there is a possibility a fight won’t break out? This army’s intentions seem quite clear.”

Han Wenqing shrugged. “We will prepare for a battle as we wait, but I would at least appreciate the opportunity to speak to the other side before we commit to bloodshed.”

“As you wish.”

The next half-hour or so was full of buzzing activity. The soldiers, who’d all rushed here in semi-ordered haste, rearranged their positions to their best advantage. The two permanent companies and the two training companies, standing side by side, hardly looked different from each other. They were all disciplined to the extreme.

At the head of the battalion, Han Wenqing could admit that, though this was hardly an army in full, it had potential. He inspected their armored ranks thoroughly, Bai Yanfei, the younglings, and a few other officers on his heels.

“It will do,” he said at last, and returned to center. Together, he and his expanded entourage waited for the newly-sent scouts to return with word of the Eracenti army’s progress.

When they did, it was to announce that the army was virtually upon them. “They’re coming over that hill, Highness,” a breathless beta said, straightening with difficulty. “They’ll be here in minutes.”

Han Wenqing had dared to hope that it wouldn’t come down to a fight, but watching the Eracenti army crest the hill in the distance, he couldn’t help but wish Chalk Town had an army of its own—and several anti-siege measures in place to match.

In his defense, no foreign army had ever been so bold as to march in Thousand Peak Pass. It was supposed to be impossible. And yet, the Eracenti had managed to overcome every obstacle on their way here.

Was a year of peacetime truly capable of crippling their defenses so thoroughly?

The banners of Eracent’s royal house flew over the heads of the encroaching soldiers. There were other banners as well, one of which was notably unfamiliar—Sun Xiang’s colors, without a doubt.

“The boy general is proud indeed,” Bai Yanfei muttered.

The soldiers had paused in their march. There were some shouts here and there, a brief flurry of motion, and then stillness. But from the stillness emerged a figure, shining faintly in the daylight, distinguished from the faceless mass behind him. Slowly, confidently, he approached.

“Speak of the devil,” Han Wenqing said.

Even from this distance, that suit of armor was one Han Wenqing would recognize anywhere. It had surely been adjusted—Sun Xiang’s proportions were different from Ye Qiu’s—but it was the same gold and black that had struck fear in the hearts of so many. That had united an entire nation.

“I will go see what our boy general wants,” Han Wenqing said, resolute.

“Sir—”

“Highness—”

“Bai Yanfei, follow me.”

Protests rose all around him, but Han Wenqing ignored them. He had already outfitted himself with some armor—not a complete suit, but he had never had use for one of those. Han Wenqing fought with his entire body; he couldn’t afford to be too restricted.

And anyway, he was certain that Sun Xiang was no Ye Qiu (no one can be Ye Qiu). If Sun Xiang struck, Han Wenqing would strike back, and thrice as hard. No armor would be enough to protect him.

Han Wenqing strode through the grass with Bai Yanfei at his heels. In the space that precariously separated their two sides, Sun Xiang, helm under his arm and accompanied by a boot-faced man, awaited somewhere in the middle.

“We offer mercy,” Sun Xiang called before Han Wenqing and Bai Yanfei had quite arrived, “if your soldiers stand down and turn themselves over.”

“Your mercy is unneeded,” Han Wenqing replied when he was within speaking distance.

“Are you sure, sir? Because it seems that my army vastly outnumbers…whatever that is you have behind you.” Sun Xiang smiled brilliantly. “Why fight a battle you know you will lose?”

“General…” the man behind Sun Xiang said, staring intently at Han Wenqing’s face. “That’s—”

Han Wenqing crossed his arms, a couple of meters between himself and the boy general. “You are Sun Xiang.”

“Of course. Who else would I be?”

“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting before.”

Sun Xiang raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “And why would I have ever met you? Even if you’re the highest-ranking officer in this mediocre little town—”

“I am King Han Wenqing, and you have chosen a rather inauspicious time to invade my mediocre little town.”

The boot-faced man grimaced, vexation brimming in his eyes. Sun Xiang stared at him speechlessly. Han Wenqing stared back, his glare burning hotter than the sun overhead.

“You lie,” Sun Xiang snapped.

“He is our king! He does not lie,” Bai Yanfei snarled back.

Without a word, Han Wenqing lifted his chin and flexed his fists. Sun Xiang’s eyes bulged as he looked at his armored gloves. The golden patterning and excellent craftsmanship were recognizable to any warrior who had grown up listening to battlefield tales.

“How can you be here?” Sun Xiang snarled. “Well, no matter. I have longed for the opportunity to test my strength against yours. Now is as good a day as any.”

And suddenly Sun Xiang grinned, an eager gleam in his eyes, bloodthirsty as anything. His alpha scent carried over with the breeze and Han Wenqing found himself bristling as he breathed it in.

“A test of strength? Then let’s strike a deal,” Han Wenqing said, reining in his instinctive anger. “Beat me in single combat, and you will have Chalk Town. My forces will not resist yours. But if I beat you, you will surrender, and your invasion will end here.”

It was reckless, to be sure, and the very notion of giving up Chalk Town rankled—but the challenge would be too good to pass up. Han Wenqing recognized the temptation, and so when Sun Xiang’s already somewhat manic eyes shone even brighter, he was not surprised by the statement that followed:

“What an offer. I would be a fool to turn down your surrender.”

Han Wenqing fought back a twitch of his lips. That was not what he had offered, but he decided to let the boy think what he would. A king’s word was worth more than a general’s, and Han Wenqing was well known for keeping his promises.

You are a fool regardless, he thought. What he said was, “Then let us begin.”

* * *

Sun Xiang handed off his helm to his companion. Both he and Bai Yanfei moved a respectable distance away. As witnesses, they had to be cautious.

It started off straightforwardly enough. Han Wenqing and Sun Xiang circled around one another, made a few tentative forays into each other’s space. Testing the waters, like most warriors did when given the chance. Then followed a careful exchange of blows—nothing too committed, nothing that could not be easily dodged or blocked. They were not yet ready to go at each other with full force.

Han Wenqing had fought enough battles; he knew the second his opponent got serious.

Sun Xiang’s lance descended on him with such speed, no unenhanced warrior would have had a chance to dodge. Han Wenqing stepped hastily to the right and avoided the sharp point.

While Sun Xiang was drawing back for another attack, Han Wenqing closed what little distance was between them and aimed a fist right at his solar plexus, where the armor was light and flexible. His spiked knuckles slammed forward with explosive power, Han Wenqing using the momentum of his turning hips to drive the blow.

Another man may have stood by and watched with satisfaction as their opponent stumbled back, but not Han Wenqing. He did not let Sun Xiang slip away to regroup, but instead found more openings to exploit.

Eventually, however, he lost the upper hand. Sun Xiang swept his lance over the ground in a graceful arc, forcing Han Wenqing away from his immediate vicinity. With some breathing room, he was able to mount his next attack.

Han Wenqing once again avoided being speared through; he could not avoid the slam to his side. The lance withdrew, but before it could be pulled out of reach, he grabbed onto it.

Across from him, Sun Xiang’s eyes narrowed, his blond hair falling into his sweaty face as he bared his teeth.

Han Wenqing merely grunted and tugged on the lance as hard as he could. Sun Xiang came stumbling forth, unwilling to give up his weapon, and entered Han Wenqing’s range. An amateurish mistake.

It’s my victory, Han Wenqing thought, but just as he balled his fist, Sun Xiang spun, one of his legs arching through the air in a reverse crescent-moon kick aimed at an invisible opponent. His lance jerked loose and was then forced out of Han Wenqing’s grip altogether, and when Sun Xiang once again placed both feet on the ground, he was facing Han Wenqing’s right.

Han Wenqing tried to adjust to the sudden change of position, but Sun Xiang was too fast—Han Wenqing’s side was wide open. The lance only clipped his ribs because Han Wenqing had the presence of mind to shift his feet so that the bulk of his body faced away from Sun Xiang. If his reaction had come a half-second too late…

What a bold move. A move Han Wenqing recognized.

But Sun Xiang overreached. He was, as Han Wenqing had known all along, no Ye Qiu.

As Sun Xiang fell forward, just barely catching himself on his extended leg, Han Wenqing jumped into the air and slammed both feet straight at Sun Xiang’s head.

You should have kept the helm.

It didn’t hit quite right; the angle was too awkward. But Sun Xiang still caught the worst of it along his jaw and neck, the breath knocked right out of him despite the armor. He toppled over like a pile of bricks, ungainly and loud.

Han Wenqing fell with much more grace, his arms bracing his landing. He was back on his feet and in position within seconds, while Sun Xiang struggled to recover, coughing on the small cloud of dust they had raised.

Without hesitation, Han Wenqing maneuvered himself behind Sun Xiang, slipping an arm around his armored throat and holding him fast.

“I win.”

Sun Xiang took a few moments to speak, his breathing heavy and his face red. Out of the corner of his eye, he glared at Han Wenqing. “Get off.”

“No. Not until you do as we agreed.”

“General!” Sun Xiang’s companion called.

“Don’t you dare interfere,” Han Wenqing snarled in his direction. The man still took a step forward, his face pale.

Sun Xiang grunted as he tried to break Han Wenqing’s hold, but the fight had clearly taken a lot out of him.

Another few moments of fruitless struggle, then Sun Xiang snapped, “All right! All right, I surrender.”

Relief, satisfaction, then suspicion. Was he being sincere, or was he going to take that lance and lodge it straight through Han Wenqing the second he was free?

Well. Even if he did, Bai Yanfei would retaliate, and then his troops would descend on Sun Xiang’s. Surely no general would act so recklessly…

Han Wenqing didn’t release him right away, testing the other alpha’s patience. But when Sun Xiang did nothing but pant, he removed his arm and stepped back as quickly as he could.

Sun Xiang rose to his feet laboriously, his hand moving to his chest. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to get out of that armor. Han Wenqing wondered if it really fit him all that well, despite the adjustments made to it.

Then Sun Xiang’s furious, humiliated gaze met his.

Somehow, Han Wenqing knew exactly what was about to happen.

Sun Xiang raised his lance, turned his head slightly toward his army, and bellowed, “Attack!”

His voice cracked across the grass like a bolt of lightning. In moments, the Eracenti echoed him, yelling and screaming as they charged forward, fists and weapons shaking in the air.

Bai Yanfei cursed as he darted over to back Han Wenqing up.

Han Wenqing stared at Sun Xiang. “You scum.”

Sun Xiang grinned mirthlessly. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily, old man.”

Behind Han Wenqing, he heard his own forces mobilizing: the thunder of their boots hitting the ground, the clanging of metal meeting metal. He knew their two sides would clash in mere moments.

“It’s rather soon for a rematch,” he growled, “but I’m happy to oblige. Even if you are an overeager whelp who doesn’t know his place.”

“Oh, am I?”

Hit him where it hurts. “If it were Ye Qiu, he wouldn’t have missed.”

Sun Xiang was still scowling when the Tyrtellians and Eracenti collided.

* * *

Like with all large-scale battles, everything eventually devolved into a blur of motion where reason and instinct meshed into one. Han Wenqing saw an enemy soldier and attacked; he saw his countrymen in danger and defended. It was rote. He didn’t have to stop to think for even a second.

Of course, there were enhanced warriors among the enemy—those required a little more concentration to take down. But it was the way of things to let the enhanced deal with the enhanced, and though Han Wenqing did not have as many alphas and omegas on his side as he might have wanted, he had enough to feel vaguely optimistic about their odds, outnumbered though they were.

The younglings latched onto him almost immediately, for which he was grateful. Bai Yanfei personally watched over them alongside Han Wenqing. The seven of them made a brutal team, wandering from fight to fight like a weapon guided by a god of war.

Han Wenqing couldn’t say that he was any happier about having the younglings on the battlefield, but in the heat of the moment, he appreciated them more than he could say. He was accustomed to having an elite group of enhanced warriors at his back, ready to catch him should he fall. With the younglings, though, he was more determined than ever not to fall. And when he glimpsed them out of the corners of his eyes, strength surged through him like it never had before.

He had to protect them. Under no circumstances were they allowed to walk away from this with more than a scratch, if that. He had promised Ye Qiu.

But as the battle wore on, and the day progressed, and the number of the living dwindled, Han Wenqing grew exhausted. He hadn’t exactly been well-rested before this—constant travel and stress would do that to someone—and then he’d had to waste so much energy and focus on Sun Xiang.

It was well past noon, and he was slipping.

“You all right?” Lou Guanning asked, stopping beside Han Wenqing, who was bent over with his hands on his knees.

Han Wenqing wiped a trail of sweat from his brow. “I can keep going. How are the rest of you?”

In this rare moment of stillness, the younglings, as well as Bai Yanfei, gathered around him. They were all in various states of disarray, dirt and blood marring their features. Wild-looking, in simple terms. But they were standing, and their gazes were determined, and he knew they could go on.

Han Wenqing straightened, casting his eyes over the field of grass. Bodies littered the ground like refuse, arrows and the rare blade sticking out of the corpses like morbid grave-markers. The scents of blood and death mingled nauseatingly in the air.

The fighting here was all but over; most of the action was now relegated to the hill the Eracenti army had emerged from. Even as Han Wenqing watched, two groups of soldiers went at each other. One individual was struck down nearly right away, the body rolling downhill for a few seconds before coming to a stop in an undignified heap.

At the very least, it looked like the Tyrtellians were winning. The Eracenti had been pushed back quite a distance. Even if a few determined enemy soldiers had broken through their lines, Chalk Town was safe.

They had the advantage; all they had to do was use it.

“We should finish this quickly,” Bai Yanfei said, echoing Han Wenqing’s thoughts. “If we let them regroup in the hills, they can hide in the countryside, and it will be that much harder to exterminate them. And we must secure the thoroughfare.”

“Of course.” Han Wenqing met the younglings’ eyes. Lou Guanning appeared tired but determined. Shu Kexin and Shu Keyi scanned the hills, searching for their next targets. Dai Yanqi was tying back her hair, a grumpy expression on her face, while Tang Hao watched Han Wenqing, expectant and a little impatient.

Han Wenqing wished they didn’t have to be here, experiencing this. They were just children; they should never have known war. They should not look so at home on this corpse-strewn terrain. But for all of that, they did not seem to regret their decision to come.

“Let’s hurry, then.”

They charged uphill, spreading out a bit now that they did not have to watch each other’s backs as closely. The twins stayed together; Bai Yanfei rode herd on Lou Guanning and Dai Yanqi; and Han Wenqing stayed within range of Tang Hao.

Then, from over the top of that damned hill, emerged the shining, sharp-edged figure of Sun Xiang.

“It’s time for that rematch,” Sun Xiang called down to Han Wenqing. “Not too soon, is it?”

Han Wenqing stopped in his tracks, staring up at the detestable brat with all the fury he could muster. He had been weary before, and he was even wearier now, but—

He wanted nothing more than to wring that boy’s neck. And he was going to, before the day was out. He swore it.

“Get down here, asshole!” Tang Hao yelled, the expression on his face downright murderous.

“This is between me and your king, boy,” Sun Xiang said, smiling that infuriating smile. “He has to come up here.”

“This isn’t a one-on-one battle anymore, in case you didn’t notice,” Tang Hao said with a scoff. “You already had your shot with His Majesty, and you lost. Now you get to die in the dirt like your soldiers.”

…Had Tang Hao always been so eloquently venomous? Han Wenqing almost wished he didn’t have to interject. “Surrender now,” he called up to Sun Xiang, “and you can still salvage something of your army.”

“Just as before, I must turn you down.”

“You didn’t turn me down,” Han Wenqing growled, “you broke your word. I am giving you the chance to make it right—as right as it can be, considering how dishonorably you’ve conducted yourself.”

“Dishonor.” Sun Xiang scoffed, twirling his lance in his hand. “As if I care about dishonor. The strong achieve victory, and the weak fall in line behind them. Honor has nothing to do with it.”

Han Wenqing snorted, unwilling to entertain this nonsense any longer. He started up the hill. He knew full well that Sun Xiang had been lying in wait for this moment, that he had not poured his strength into fighting back the Tyrtellians as any general ought to have done. He knew he was at a disadvantage, that facing down Sun Xiang when he was exhausted and worn down would likely result in his loss, if not his death.

He did not care. He was going to show that petulant, ill-bred child how a true alpha met their fate: with pride and wrath and every ounce of power they could call upon.

Then a pale shape crashed into Sun Xiang and he disappeared from view.

Han Wenqing paused in his trek. He stared uncomprehendingly at the space where Sun Xiang had been standing, then glanced at Tang Hao, who appeared just as perplexed as he felt.

He ran, no longer steady and sure, but alarmed. If one of the younglings had—

But the sight that awaited him on top of the hill was not the one he feared.

Ye Qiu circled Sun Xiang with all the leonine grace of a stalking predator. Sun Xiang was still getting to his feet, one hand raised to his bleeding forehead. His lance was out of reach, and Ye Qiu’s umbrella was twisting into the shape of a sword. The slender blade, newly revealed, gleamed menacingly.

Han Wenqing didn’t know what to make of this. What was unfolding before his eyes seemed almost too fantastical to believe.

“Lord Grim?” Tang Hao said disbelievingly from behind him.

Ye Qiu’s golden eyes flicked to them. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though his attention remained fixed on the disoriented Sun Xiang. “Sorry to intrude on your duel, Your Majesty. While it may be a matter of honor, I can’t help but feel that this one has a long way to go before he can redeem himself.”

“Who the hell are you?” Sun Xiang snarled, upright and covered in blood. His previously spotless armor had been dirtied all over again. “Some warrior king you are, Han Wenqing, relying on other alphas to fight your battles for you!”

Such a hypocritical statement deserved nothing but absolute incredulity, which was exactly what it received from all others present.

“Little boy,” Ye Qiu said, amused, “I’m no alpha.”

Fierce-eyed and smirking, he lunged.

Chapter Text

No matter how fresh Sun Xiang was, there was no way he was going to win this fight.

While Ye Xiu had not had the time to put any armor on, not even leather, he was quick enough to dodge every attack. It helped that Sun Xiang couldn’t go fully on the offensive with his lance out of reach. Theirs was a careful dance more than a battle, and maybe Ye Xiu was exhausted from fighting off an infection, but he was more experienced than this boy general. He knew how to be patient.

Sun Xiang did not. And it was his growing frustration, his recklessness, that allowed Ye Xiu to go toe-to-toe with him in his less-than-ideal condition.

Then Han Wenqing stepped in.

As Ye Xiu distracted Sun Xiang, stoking his rage and leading him around by the nose, Han Wenqing positioned himself behind him, just out of Sun Xiang’s line of sight.

With a mocking smile, knowing full well that he was blocking Sun Xiang’s path to his fallen lance, Ye Xiu said, “What, are you not going to pick up your weapon?”

Sun Xiang snarled, impotent and frazzled. All at once, he abandoned what was left of his caution and charged forth, his gaze focused solely on Ye Xiu.

Ye Xiu quickly dodged out of the way. The path was left open for Sun Xiang, but the boy slid to a clumsy stop and spun about as if to chase Ye Xiu. It was evident that the boy’s priorities were ruled by his anger, for his lance was closer to him than Ye Xiu was.

Before Ye Xiu could taunt him further, though, Han Wenqing made his move, tackling Sun Xiang to the ground. They rolled for a few seconds, coming dangerously close to where the ground dropped off in a somewhat steep descent.

Ye Xiu ran to them, his blade held out at his side, but when he neared, they were already untangling. Han Wenqing almost had Sun Xiang pinned, but a well-placed knee to the kidney sent the king back with a grunt.

The two combatants stood hastily and faced off against each other. Ye Xiu was behind Sun Xiang, unnoticed for now, and all he could see was Han Wenqing’s sweat-drenched face and frosty gaze.

Sun Xiang said, “If you think you can win here, you’re—"

Whatever it was he wanted to say, he was too caught up in it to sense Ye Xiu’s approach. Ye Xiu, spotting a path to victory, took advantage of Sun Xiang’s distraction and slammed the hilt of his umbrella-turned-sword into his temple.

Should’ve worn a helm.

Sun Xiang fell forward onto Han Wenqing, who hastily stepped out of the way. Their armored foe landed heavily on the ground, only the grass cushioning the impact.

From the sidelines, Tang Hao said, “Well, he was unexpectedly pathetic.”

Ye Xiu wiped some sweat from his brow as he examined the faint smudge of blood on his blade. He’d gotten a few nicks in, hoping to discourage Sun Xiang from continuing the battle. A futile effort.

With a sigh, he fiddled with the sword until the blade retracted and the hilt extended. In its original umbrella shape, his weapon was unassuming and understated, not at all like the glittering lance Sun Xiang wielded.

He glanced down at Sun Xiang’s unconscious form. It was unlikely the head injury would leave any lasting effects, and he was not badly cut enough that he would bleed out. It was, presumably, safe to transport him.

Ye Xiu looked at Tang Hao. “He’s a skilled warrior, but he’s young still. His mind needs more training than his body.”

Han Wenqing snorted a little at that, nudging at Sun Xiang’s dirtied armor with his foot—and it was strange to think of this armor as Sun Xiang’s now, but Ye Xiu couldn’t say he felt any particular way about it. The black and gold armor had once been fundamental to his image, but…no more.

Ye Xiu was not the same person from a year ago. He was no longer at Tao Xuan’s beck and call. He was his own man, with his own self-determined path. It was freeing to look down on Sun Xiang and feel nothing. No jealousy. No regret. Not even shame.

“Are you going to kill him?” Tang Hao asked curiously as he approached. “Send his head back to the Eracenti king?”

“It’s tempting,” Han Wenqing said in a dark tone, “but he serves better as a hostage. Besides that, he must answer for the crimes he’s committed against my people, as well as his disreputable behavior. None of this had to happen—he just refused to surrender when he promised to.”

Ye Xiu looked around. Most of the fallen lay on the field of grass below, but there was more than enough death in these hills, too. Even as he watched, he saw the twins kill off a couple of enemy soldiers nearby. Their limp forms collapsed with barely a splatter of blood.

One of them—Ye Xiu honestly couldn’t tell which one from this distance, especially because they both had a couple of pieces of identical armor on—caught his gaze. She gaped visibly for a moment before tugging at her sister’s arm and pointing. They seemed like they were about to come over when more enemies caught their attention from a ways away. They turned to dispatch them.

Ye Xiu exhaled, long and slow. He resisted the urge to palm his side, where his stab wound ached. The combination of powerful medications, pain suppressants, and a couple of hours in a real bed allowed him to hang on until now, but…

“You should have someone take him into custody,” he told Han Wenqing, “and then we’ll round up the younglings.”

Han Wenqing, surprisingly, smiled at him. It was very faint, just an upturn of the lips, but the way his eyes softened caught Ye Xiu off guard.

“I am glad to see you well.”

Ye Xiu shrugged self-consciously. “You’ve been out here for several hours. I improved much in that time.” Sort of.

“You should have stayed away,” Han Wenqing said, “but I’m still grateful you came.”

“…My half of the younglings are waiting at the inn still,” Ye Xiu muttered, instead of addressing what Han Wenqing just said.

Han Wenqing hummed, his dark eyes pinned on Ye Xiu.

With the sun high in the sky, they made their way through the battlefield, Han Wenqing barking orders and organizing efforts to capture the Eracenti soldiers. There were few who surrendered—most seemed determined to die where they lay or make a run for it. Consequently, a half-dozen very specialized squads were assigned to hunt them down and kill them. It was just more death on top of a needless slaughter, but the situation was beyond salvaging. According to the rules of engagement, the Eracenti were in the wrong. They would reap what they sowed.

It was a shame, Ye Xiu thought, that so many had to die for one man’s pride and greed. They were only pawns, not heroes or villains. But it was the way of things.

Han Wenqing personally oversaw Sun Xiang’s security and transportation, and after that, his attention was drawn to several other matters: the thoroughfare, the cleanup, the prisoners. Ye Xiu and the herd of younglings, bloodstained and weary, accompanied him throughout it all, but eventually, Ye Xiu realized they wouldn’t be able to rest any time soon if they continued to follow Han Wenqing around.

“I’ll return to the city with our charges,” he told Han Wenqing in a quiet voice, having pulled him aside. “We will wait for you at the Rising Phoenix.”

Han Wenqing nodded, the softness Ye Xiu had beheld not so long ago entirely gone. His expression was stonelike and intense: a kingly mask that demanded obedience.

“Be safe,” he said. “Shall I send Bai Yanfei with you?”

“No need. I’m sure your officers are all required here anyway.”

Reluctantly, Han Wenqing agreed. Before Ye Xiu could move away, however, he placed a hand on his arm, freezing him in place.

Ye Xiu remained still as Han Wenqing leaned slowly forward and brushed his nose along the side of his cheek and jaw. The intimacy of the gesture had Ye Xiu gripping Han Wenqing’s arm in turn, warmth and shock overcoming his better sense.

“You smell like omega,” Han Wenqing murmured. “Did you not have time to conceal yourself?”

“Well,” Ye Xiu said with concentrated effort, “time I had, but if I’d delayed, might you be dead or captured this very moment? Who can say…”

Han Wenqing pulled away from him. His gaze was unbearably penetrating, but the worst part was that Ye Xiu knew what he must be thinking: that Ye Xiu had placed Han Wenqing’s life above his need for secrecy.

He wouldn’t be wrong if that were the case.

Ye Xiu finally summoned his willpower and stepped back, releasing Han Wenqing’s arm and creating a more professional distance between them. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Han Wenqing let his hand fall away and nodded again. “Later.”

Ye Xiu breathed out unsteadily as he watched Han Wenqing stride off, his deep voice already snapping orders once more. He soon turned to regard the younglings, who had been watching the exchange avidly.

Dai Yanqi, for one, made no attempt to hide her grin.

Ye Xiu huffed at them and said, “Let’s be on our way. You all need to get cleaned up and fed.”

“I cannot and will not say no to food right now,” Lou Guanning said, perking up. “Can we lie down in actual beds?”

Ye Xiu smiled. “Of course.”

The five of them brightened with excitement.

The mention of a meal and actual beds was motivation enough. The younglings’ eagerness seemed to revitalize them, and after returning their gear, they left the grisly aftermath of battle behind without so much as a backward glance.

* * *

“You’ve finally returned. I was beginning to think you’d gotten yourself killed.”

Ye Xiu smirked at Chen Guo. “Come now, would I be so easy to kill?”

Chen Guo raised her eyebrows at him, managing to look both unimpressed and relieved at the same time. It was a talent of hers.

Then her eyes fell on the younglings behind him. “Oh! All of you need to come inside and wash yourselves. I already have your rooms ready and food on the way. Quickly, quickly—”

The younglings, especially Tang Hao, looked a little overwhelmed by the attention and urgent treatment. Ye Xiu kindly placed himself between them and Chen Guo.

“I’ll take them upstairs. You should see to your other guests,” he said to Chen Guo.

She scowled at him. “Don’t tell me what I should do. But I suppose…” Grumbling under her breath, Chen Guo hurried in the direction of the reception hall.

Ye Xiu shook his head slightly as he watched her go. To the younglings, he said, “Don’t make too much noise. There are servants and the like who use this back entrance as well.”

“Are guests not allowed to use it?” Lou Guanning asked.

“Not usually, but since I’m with you, it’s fine. However, it is a little odd—the kind of odd that might incite gossip, especially with your appearance. As we want to keep our presence here quiet, gossip would be counterproductive.”

Ye Xiu showed them to the stairs as he explained, gesturing for them to climb up first. “Turn right at the top; that hallway is all ours.”

They did as he said, the wooden stairs creaking beneath their feet. Ye Xiu followed them up at a leisurely pace. He was not as excited as they were even though he was looking forward to cleaning up and lying down. Mostly, he was just weary.

In the hallway, a couple familiar faces waited: An Wenyi and Qiao Yifan.

“Ash!” Dai Yanqi cried. “You’re here!”

Qiao Yifan smiled. “Yes, I was able to come in time. I hear you’ve all had an exciting day.”

An Wenyi crossed his arms as he examined his wayward companions. “Yes, that’s putting it mildly. Who is hurt the worst?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Lou Guanning, who had done a very good job of hiding his limp up until now. He smiled sheepishly and came forward.

An Wenyi sighed like he had foreseen this, then led Lou Guanning into his room. “Come along, then. I have the supplies ready. And I’m talking to all of you.”

The girls conceded easily enough, but Qiao Yifan had to coax Tang Hao inside. In the doorway of An Wenyi’s room, he made a questioning expression at Ye Xiu.

Ye Xiu shook his head. He was completely fine—just tired and achy. He pointed at the end of the hallway, toward his room.

Qiao Yifan nodded and closed the door quietly behind him. He seemed concerned, but he was cool-headed enough to know that the younglings needed him right then. Ye Xiu started down the hall.

“Someone looks like they just visited an active battlefield despite being severely ill.”

Ye Xiu stopped, squinting at the woman who had just emerged from his room. She leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms, a smile on her face as she flicked long blond hair over her shoulder.

“If I wanted your opinion, Rain, I would ask for it.”

Su Mucheng giggled. “No asking required—my opinion is a gift.”

Ye Xiu sighed and walked over. “Have you kept them entertained?”

“As promised.”

Sure enough, the four younglings sprawled on Ye Xiu’s floor seemed content enough. As soon as they laid eyes on him, though, they sprang to their feet.

Well, except for Mo Fan. He just sat up.

“Lord Grim!” Lu Hanwen exclaimed. “I thought I heard you. Where are the others?”

“With An Wenyi and Ash,” Ye Xiu replied, smiling faintly. “You should go see them.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Qiu Fei asked.

“Not badly, or so it seems. At any rate, they’re well enough to walk under their own power and whine about how hungry they are.”

“And the king?” Mo Fan said.

Surprised, Ye Xiu stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then he tilted his head. “The king has kingly duties to attend to, but he’ll be along later.”

Mo Fan nodded and finally stood. Luo Ji, who was the closest to him, was peering at Ye Xiu suspiciously.

Perhaps noticing Ye Xiu’s attention, Luo Ji quickly looked away. “I’m really happy you’re all right, Lord Grim. I admit, I thought the chances of you coming back alive were alarmingly low, but I suppose I—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve already said it all,” Ye Xiu replied with a roll of his eyes. Luo Ji’s analysis of why Ye Xiu shouldn’t go to battle had kept him occupied for several long-suffering minutes. “I’m also really happy I’m all right, thank you. I am a rather daring individual, so don’t do what I did. Be more sensible than me.”

“You must have known the battle was winding down,” Luo Ji said, his wide eyes alight with realization. “How did you know?”

Ye Xiu raised an eyebrow at him. “I know how battles go. Experience is key, my young friend.”

“Right…”

“All right, everyone, we should let Lord Grim rest. Go on, go see your friends.” Su Mucheng shooed everyone out of the room.

Ye Xiu sat down on his bed heavily as soon as the door shut. “Thanks for your help.”

Su Mucheng lowered herself to the floor, sitting cross-legged. “Of course. How did it go?”

“Tyrtellian forces prevailed. Han Wenqing negotiated a surrender through single combat, but Sun Xiang broke his word when he lost. Everyone is quite upset about it. Apparently, their duel was a stunning spectacle, and all for naught.”

“Goodness,” Su Mucheng said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Sun Xiang’s name is going to be blackened even further. Is he…?”

“He’s alive and likely well,” Ye Xiu replied, “other than his pride, which has been grievously injured, perhaps beyond repair.”

“I doubt that. I’ve been looking into his past records.”

Ye Xiu, slumped over, almost straightened at that. “Oh? And what did you find?”

“He was lowborn; got adopted into a minor noble family at thirteen and trained extensively under their protection. They favored him above all others and invested heavily in his future. But he was not anywhere close to the capital, which is why we never heard of him before this spring. Tao Xuan must have been aware of him, though—him and his spies.”

Su Mucheng hesitated. “I think his plans for Sun Xiang were originally of a more…coercive…nature, but when you left, he had the boy trained for some time to take your place, and…”

It took no small amount of effort to hide his horror, but somehow, Ye Xiu managed it. He was sickened to learn Tao Xuan had such plans for someone who was barely more than a youngling. He was not surprised, of course—he had been embroiled in these plans as well. He knew they existed; they were what had convinced him to flee Eracent. But even a glimpse of their extent outside of himself was…

“That man is rotten,” he finally said.

Su Mucheng offered him a bitter smile. “You will hear no argument from me.”

They moved on to other topics. Ye Xiu remained sitting on the bed, unwilling to lie down lest he instantly fall asleep. After several minutes, a servant appeared at the door with a tray of food, and though Ye Xiu was the furthest thing from hungry, he forced some down his throat. His health wouldn’t improve if he didn’t eat.

Su Mucheng had been keeping track of the situation in Thousand Peak City, one of few trusted agents who were responsible for maintaining contact with Zhang Xinjie. Not that this contact happened directly, of course—she ferried letters back and forth, including the king’s correspondence with his adviser. But her ability to come and go from the castle meant she was consistently and reliably informed. Su Mucheng’s servant friends were more valuable than they knew.

By all official and unofficial accounts, the Eracenti’s march in the borderlands to the south had left devastation in its wake. Many refugees had traveled northward along the Rising Sky River, and to ensure the civilians’ safety, Tyrtellian forces had been diverted from the source of the upheaval. This was likely why Sun Xiang’s army had gotten all the way to Thousand Peak Pass relatively uncontested. That, and other Eracenti armies had been left behind to keep pursuers occupied: a trial the Tyrtellian scouts failed to overcome.

Such a simple tactic, Ye Xiu thought, but an effective one. In the chaos of war, a whole army managed to disappear.

This also meant, of course, that there would be a campaign waiting for Han Wenqing in the south. Unless he managed to negotiate their removal with Sun Xiang’s life, the king would have to oust the invaders personally.

Ye Xiu did not envy him the task.

By the time Han Wenqing arrived at the inn, Ye Xiu was clean and wearing a fresh change of clothes. Su Mucheng kept him company as he dozed, reading through several letters she had stashed away and pointedly not commenting on his restlessness.

Knocking on the door pulled him out of his half-awake state. He sat up automatically, rubbing his eyes.

Su Mucheng stood up to greet their visitor. She, like Ye Xiu, probably expected it to be Qiao Yifan, Chen Guo, or one of the younglings—which was why Han Wenqing’s face had her taking a step back.

“Your Majesty,” she said, quickly regaining her composure.

“Is this Ye Qiu’s room?”

Her eyebrows almost flew off her forehead as she turned to glance at Ye Xiu. He suppressed a groan at her expression. This…development…had completely slipped his mind.

“Yes,” she said slowly, refocusing on Han Wenqing. “Would you like to come in?”

Han Wenqing nodded, already striding inside. He looked at Ye Xiu on the bed but didn’t say anything.

Su Mucheng, still standing at the door, glanced between the two of them, shock fading to puzzlement. Luckily, Ye Xiu was able to catch her eye and jerked his chin at the door.

Even more puzzled, Su Mucheng left. The click of the door closing behind her was thunderous.

Han Wenqing walked over to the bed and gingerly sat down near Ye Xiu’s legs. To create more room for him, Ye Xiu drew his feet beneath his body and bunched his blanket into a wad in his lap.

“How are you feeling?” Han Wenqing asked.

Ye Xiu smiled a little. “Quite well, given the circumstances, and getting better as we speak.”

Han Wenqing dipped his chin in acknowledgment and flexed his hands, which were resting on his thighs. “Sun Xiang is being escorted to the capital later this afternoon.”

“Already?”

“There’s no time to waste. I’m afraid any subtlety on my part is impossible now; my presence is widely known. If I carry on with you and the younglings, I might put you at risk.”

Ye Xiu pursed his lips. “You intend to oversee Sun Xiang’s transportation personally.”

“Yes. The younglings deserve some time to recuperate—and you need it. You should leave tomorrow morning at the earliest. I will get there sooner than you, but it will give me a chance to prepare for your arrival, at least.”

“As long as we meet in the capital,” Ye Xiu said slowly, “and you keep your word to help them, then I’m all right with it.”

“Of course I will keep my word.”

Ye Xiu didn’t reply to that. “I’m a little confused—why don’t you just leave now?”

Han Wenqing stared at him. “I think you know why.”

“I truly do not.”

Without breaking eye contact, Han Wenqing moved closer on the bed, slipping into the space Ye Xiu had put between them. One of his hands rose slowly to cup Ye Xiu’s jaw.

“What are you doing?” Ye Xiu asked, his voice nearly a croak. Involuntarily, his mind traveled back to that time in the wagon and the warmth of Han Wenqing’s embrace.

“What do you want me to do?”

Whatever response Ye Xiu had been expecting, it wasn’t that. He stared into Han Wenqing’s eyes, trying to divine his intentions, but there was nothing he could glean just by looking at him. All he saw in those eyes, in that face, was focus. A single-minded focus that was entirely aimed at Ye Xiu.

It was…heady. His gaze dropped to Han Wenqing’s lips. He leaned in, almost swaying as he did so, like he could topple over at any moment. But Han Wenqing caught him, steadying him with hands on his shoulders. In what seemed like no time at all, they were kissing.

And it was…just a kiss. It shouldn’t have been anything special. It should have been easy to stop, like Ye Xiu had once before. But it wasn’t.

Ye Xiu was the one to move first. He placed a hand on Han Wenqing’s shoulder for balance and crowded into his space, rising on his knees. The blanket fell away. Now he was between Han Wenqing’s spread legs, pressed into him from the waist up.

Han Wenqing returned the kiss with all the passion Ye Xiu craved. The taste of him was stronger than he remembered, his mouth softer. Ye Xiu felt the shift of muscle a second before the body below him lay back.

Heart racing, Ye Xiu looked down at the man he had faced across the battlefield so many times. He could no longer imagine himself striking at him, much less killing him.

Stretching atop Han Wenqing’s reclined body, he let his lips trace down an angular jaw, then nipped at the sensitive skin of Han Wenqing’s neck. His head tilted back, encouraging Ye Xiu’s ministrations in a show of alpha submission so rare that it gave Ye Xiu pause.

His fingers mapped the ridge of Han Wenqing’s collarbone. “You honor me, Your Majesty.”

“I trust you,” Han Wenqing corrected. His hands palmed Ye Xiu’s thighs and kneaded the muscle temptingly.

Ye Xiu breathed shakily against the soft skin of his throat.

“I want you.” Han Wenqing’s hands slid up, slipping beneath the cloth of his top to touch bare skin. “And I want you to want me.” That delicate touch traced over the bottom of Ye Xiu’s spine. It was riveting, so much so that Ye Xiu had a hard time believing this wasn’t some fantastical dream.

“Wenqing,” Ye Xiu whispered, the extent of his weakness catching him unawares.

And then Han Wenqing stopped and simply rested his hands against Ye Xiu’s back. He hummed quietly, shifting below Ye Xiu as if getting comfortable.

A little shocked by the sudden cessation, Ye Xiu lifted his head to stare at Han Wenqing. “Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” Han Wenqing replied. His tone was almost…breezy.

Ye Xiu narrowed his eyes. “Why are you holding back? You said you want me.”

“I would rather wait for a better time. We’re both tired, and…”

“And what?” Ye Xiu smiled. “Decided I’m too much trouble after all?” That would be disappointing, but understandable. He resigned himself to the likely answer.

“No,” Han Wenqing said with a firmness that knocked down every one of Ye Xiu’s expectations. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Now Ye Xiu was just confused. “Why not?” If the issue wasn’t his identity, then…

A pause. “Because this is not all I want from you.”

Ye Xiu waited silently. He worked to remain calm and patient as Han Wenqing mulled over his next words.

“I would like to do right by you,” Han Wenqing admitted at last. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

In stunned amazement, Ye Xiu met Han Wenqing’s eyes.

“Are you surprised?” he asked quietly.

“Obviously,” Ye Xiu replied, mouth dry.

Han Wenqing kissed his cheek, the side of his nose. “I’m sorry. I failed to show my care. The desire I feel for you may have been purely physical at first, but after you were injured, I realized I want more. I want to honor and cherish you as…as my husband.”

“You want to marry me? You hardly know anything about me!”

“I know enough.”

“I disagree!”

“Then tell me what I need to know.” Han Wenqing’s thumb stroked the bone of his hip. “Please.”

Ye Xiu breathed in. Breathed out. If he were not being held so closely, if he were not warm and almost boneless on top of Han Wenqing, if he were not so damn comfortable, he would have been on his feet and retreating as gracefully from this situation as he could.

But he was all those things. He didn’t think he could run away from Han Wenqing if he tried.

“Let me think about it. When I see you again in Thousand Peak City…I’ll give you my answer.”

Han Wenqing was silent for a long time, his arm still loosely clasped around Ye Xiu’s torso.

“Then I will wait for you.”

Chapter Text

It had been just over twelve days since they left Point 38, and they were finally arriving in Thousand Peak City.

Unlike most other cities in Thousand Peak Pass, the capital was walled off, its neat boroughs carefully protected. Skystone Castle was built into the steep slopes at the base of the famed Heavenly Mountain and stood like a watchtower over the network of buildings.

Ye Xiu had been here twice before. Both visits had left an impression on him. The royal palace in Eracent seemed to sprawl endlessly, shocking guests with its opulence, but Han Wenqing’s castle was undeniably imposing. It was the most ambitious display of engineering and architecture he had ever seen.

The wagons gently made their way through the sprawling streets, passing multiple gates. As the capital expanded, new walls had to be built to accommodate the outlying boroughs. The result was a little maze-like, but there were enough signs to keep newcomers from getting outrageously lost.

Ye Xiu followed the directions he had been given to an estate in one of the upper-class boroughs. He had barely stopped his horse in front of the entrance when the gates opened, and two men stepped out onto the street.

“Welcome to the Qin estate,” one of them said, nodding his head at Ye Xiu. “Lord Grim, is it? I am Qin Muyun, a loyal friend of His Majesty’s.”

“And I am Jiang You,” said the other. “I’m to be your guide during your stay in the city.”

Ye Xiu dismounted to greet them properly. “Thank you for hosting us, Lord Qin. Mister Jiang, I assume my colleagues are already here?”

Jiang You nodded, a somewhat impatient expression on his face. “They’re waiting for you. Please, come inside.”

Ye Xiu led his horse and the oxen past the estate’s high walls. The landscaping was impeccable, and the house itself was clean and tidy-looking. It looked like a rather homey place.

The younglings piled out of their wagon as soon as he called for them. They examined their surroundings with critical eyes as they gathered around Ye Xiu.

Introductions were hastily made—Ye Xiu had no doubt that Qin Muyun, at least, had been told what to expect. He was an alpha, and alphas tended to be more territorial than most, so it was important he be forewarned about who was going to stay in his house. His greetings were tentative, but earnest.

Jiang You was more indifferent. Betas tended to be like that—they didn’t perceive nearly as much as the enhanced did.

Eventually, Qin Muyun invited them all indoors. It was nearly noon and the younglings were hungry. Ye Xiu was as well, though he was better at concealing it.

In the dining room, Tang Rou, Bao Rongxing, and Fang Rui sat at the table, where a veritable feast was laid out.

“Soft Mist, Steamed Bun, Sea Demon,” Ye Xiu said smilingly. “It’s good to see you all.”

They stood up to say their hellos—Tang Rou with a smile of her own and a brief touch to his arm, Bao Rongxing with a crushing hug, and Fang Rui with a slap to the shoulder and a broad grin. The three of them smelled as neutral as he did.

The younglings seemed pleased to see Tang Rou again, the boys especially. They didn’t trip over themselves like they did with Qiao Yifan, but their travels had been lonelier since Han Wenqing departed. It must be good to see a familiar face.

“Please help yourselves,” Qin Muyun said when they had all settled down and taken their seats.

Shortly after they began eating, Qin Muyun said cautiously, “Lord Grim, I was told you would be coming with more of your colleagues…”

“Ah,” Ye Xiu said, “they should be in the city already. We decided they would ride ahead of us to collect information.”

“Then, will we be meeting with them at some point?” Jiang You asked. “How many of your people are here?”

Ye Xiu smiled, even as Qin Muyun tossed Jiang You a quelling look. “There’s no need to be concerned. Rain will accompany me to see the king, and Ash will take my place here. We want to leave four or five people with the younglings at all times.”

“Do you truly believe there is a chance their…former master will try to collect them while they’re in the capital?” Qin Muyun asked, faintly disbelieving. “The city is well-guarded, and this is my personal estate. There should be no danger.”

Not from their former master, whoever that was, but there were always interested parties where young, unclaimed enhanced were involved. Ye Xiu shrugged. “I mean no offense, Lord Qin, but the country has been in turmoil lately. Anything could happen.”

“There’s probably no real danger,” Fang Rui added. “I’ve checked with all my sources. The younglings should be safe, though they will be safer once we get them into proper homes.”

“I’ve already looked into the noble families in the city,” Tang Rou said. “I have a list of prospective caretakers.”

“Indeed?” Jiang You was surprised, then miffed. “The king certainly has his own plans for the children.”

“They’ll choose for themselves,” Ye Xiu said. “That was the agreement. Soft Mist, hand me that list later and I’ll show it the king.”

Tang Rou nodded at him.

“So, Boss,” Bao Rongxing said into the following silence, “I heard you fought that kid Sun Xiang!”

Fang Rui smacked Bao Rongxing over the head. Ye Xiu sighed, ignoring their host’s raised eyebrows and Jiang You’s suspicious stare.

“I certainly did some fighting,” Ye Xiu agreed neutrally as he scooped up some rice. “And speaking of fighting, how have the borderlands fared these days?”

Qin Muyun said thoughtfully, “The borderlands were ravaged, but they will recover with time. Our larger concern is that more than one army came through the Sighing Ravine. While Sun Xiang’s was the largest, the other armies split into smaller forces to scout out and overwhelm the most vulnerable mountain towns. They have taken a few of them with brute force.”

So Sun Xiang followed the Sighing Ravine north. Bold of him. Ye Xiu supposed that, compared to the Rising Sky River, it was much more covert.

“Sounds like raiders!” Bao Rongxing exclaimed. “Did you kill them?”

“We are doing our best to expel them, at the very least,” Qin Muyun replied. “We called on several companies to push them back into the ravine, with middling success. Reinforcements from our own capital companies have been sent out on the king’s order, and soldiers have been called down from the north and southwest to bolster our numbers. Some of the enemy forces have fled eastward and will probably be able to retreat to Eracent via the Rising Sky River.”

“Shame,” Fang Rui commented.

“It seems like there is a lot to keep your armies busy,” Tang Rou said.

“There is, but ensuring the security of our citizens is of utmost importance,” Qin Muyun said. “Trytellian soldiers are always glad to serve.”

Already full, Ye Xiu let his hands rest atop his umbrella, laid across his lap. “And what about Sun Xiang?”

“Attempts at negotiation have been made,” Qin Muyun admitted, “but there’s no telling if the Eracenti king will respond favorably.”

“Eracent sounds like a terrible place,” Dai Yanqi said.

Ye Xiu smiled at her. The younglings’ silence had been starting to worry him. “It’s a terrible place to be enhanced.”

“Are you Eracenti, Lord Grim?” Jiang You asked suddenly.

A palpable tension fell over the table, but Ye Xiu didn’t lose his smile. “I consider myself a citizen of the world.”

The younglings, particularly Qiu Fei and Tang Hao, were eyeing Jiang You distrustfully. Ye Xiu wished he could kick them, but they sat too far away. There was no need to get so defensive over his secrets. They didn’t even know his secrets—besides the one.

“An unusually evasive answer,” Qin Muyun said, but he almost sounded amused. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to lie?”

“I am not in the habit of lying, Lord Qin,” Ye Xiu replied, still smiling.

“Isn’t lying a necessity in your line of work?” he asked delicately.

“Misdirection is my bread and butter. Lies are better avoided.”

“Then why do you seem so reluctant to admit the truth?” Jiang You challenged.

Fang Rui glared at Jiang You, exasperated. “You are a mouthy one, aren’t you. Didn’t the agreement also include a ‘no questions’ rule?”

Jiang You deflated slightly at that.

Ye Xiu chuckled and said nothing more. The truth was not something he cared to discuss with anyone but his inner circle…and Han Wenqing.

The thought of Han Wenqing had him briefly clenching the handle of his umbrella. He had longed to see him these past few days, to share with him his answer. Time on the road, as it turned out, was very conducive to decision-making.

Soon, he promised himself. They would see each other soon.

* * *

Qiao Yifan arrived not long after mealtime was over to relieve Ye Xiu and inform them that Su Mucheng was waiting. His return was met with much approval by the younglings, who were unfortunately quite awkward in this new setting. On top of the awkwardness, some strange, half-baked enmity was building up between Luo Ji and Bao Rongxing, and their back-and-forth, while entertaining, was rather disruptive.

Unfortunately, neither Tang Rou nor Fang Rui seemed to see any problem with it. The bastards.

Ye Xiu happily left Qiao Yifan to his fate and met with Su Mucheng downtown, next to a large restaurant. Jiang You, of course, was at his heels.

He greeted Su Mucheng with a warm embrace. “Still in one piece, I see.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” she teased. Then she looked at Jiang You. “You are?”

“Our guide,” Ye Xiu said. “Mister Jiang will be taking us to see the king.”

Su Mucheng smiled beguilingly. “Lead the way, then.”

Jiang You, visibly dazzled, hurried to comply. Ye Xiu and Su Mucheng fell behind him easily enough, ignoring his attempts at conversation.

Su Mucheng spoke in a low voice, undetectable to their unenhanced companion. “Are you up to date?”

“Yes.” Ye Xiu spoke just as quietly.

“Good. This situation has become a lot more complicated than we could have predicted. Do you think Han Wenqing will keep his word?”

“Of course he will.”

The smile Su Mucheng gave him was hair-raising. “Such faith.”

“It’s not as if you’re entirely unfamiliar with him.”

“I’m not his rival. I’m also not the object of his affections.”

Ye Xiu barely suppressed a grin. “Oh, and I am?”

“Don’t be coy, you know you are. I have had a lot of time to process all the gossip that’s come out of Chalk Town. Did you or did you not passionately embrace each other on the battlefield, glorying in your joint victory?”

The urge to grin won out. “We most certainly did not.”

“How disappointing.”

Ye Xiu had a feeling he would regret asking, but… “Exactly what do these rumors consist of?”

“Oh, nothing much. They say Han Wenqing has found a new beau. That he has an omega lover who guards him valiantly in battle. That him and his omega lover have a brood of children they’re raising as warriors together,” Su Mucheng replied matter-of-factly.

Ye Xiu was speechless.

Jiang You called back at them: “Is there a reason you are walking so slowly?”

They quickly caught up to their guide. Ye Xiu was glad to let Jiang You talk at them for a time; he needed to recover his wits.

The uphill climb to the castle was a long and tiring one, mainly because of Ye Xiu’s wound. Su Mucheng fared better than he did; she hadn’t been on the road for as long. Jiang You, amusingly, was the one to slow them down the most.

“Why didn’t I arrange for a carriage?” he muttered.

“A little exercise is good for one’s health,” Su Mucheng said cheerfully.

Jiang You stopped complaining.

Even so, it was still early afternoon when they arrived at the castle gates. They were, in fact, able to hitch a ride up the last half of the hill, thanks to a passing noblewoman who took pity on them. More accurately, the noblewoman took pity on Su Mucheng, who chatted with her for the duration of the ride.

“I knew you weren’t so beautiful for nothing,” Ye Xiu whispered to her when they stepped off the carriage.

Su Mucheng smacked his arm gently.

Once they passed the outer gates of the castle, the noblewoman went on her own way, while Jiang You took them—not to the throne room, surprisingly, but to what Ye Xiu suspected was the castle’s inner sanctum.

As they walked, Jiang You pointed out a few things.

“There is the Sunlit Library. It’s best visited in the morning hours but is very well-lit throughout the day. Not like the Central Library, which many find dreary.”

“This particular rug is several centuries old—we keep many such rugs preserved and exchange them on a regular schedule so they don’t become too worn.”

“The audience chamber is that way—it’s second only to the dining hall in size. The dining hall is the largest single room in Skystone Castle!”

“You must be wondering, where do we hold balls? Skystone Castle was not built to accommodate such lavish gatherings originally, but some hundred-and-fifty years ago, several walls were knocked down to create a cohesive ‘ball room;’ only it’s not a single room, but three! Much better than any old ball room.”

They passed many servants and busy officials at first, but at a certain point, the number of people in the grand halls dropped off to nearly nothing. There were guards stationed here and there, pairs of them patrolling up and down corridors or in wide circuits, but the three of them were otherwise alone.

At last, they stopped in front of a wide door.

“The king’s private study,” Jiang You said solemnly, “is behind this door. He is inside.”

“…Can we go in?” Ye Xiu asked.

“Oh, yes, by all means.” Jiang You stepped aside.

Ye Xiu entered first and was met with rows and rows of books. The walls were covered by either bookcases or paintings, and lanterns burned in the corners and at the desk: a massive wooden thing that could sit three or four people.

But there was only Han Wenqing, with a familiar man seated across from him.

To his relief, Han Wenqing looked well. When they had said their goodbyes in Chalk Town, Han Wenqing had been worn thin. Their…activities…had brought a certain spark to his eye, added an extra dose of confidence to his bearing (typical alpha, Ye Xiu had thought fondly), but he had still been so tired. Now, he was the Han Wenqing Ye Xiu knew best: vitalized and compelling.

Both Han Wenqing and the man stood up. Ye Xiu allowed his lips to curve into a polite smile as he stepped to the middle of the room and bowed his head. Su Mucheng followed his lead, her hair glinting in the firelight.

“Lord Grim, allow me to formally welcome you and yours to the capital and to my home,” Han Wenqing intoned. “You seem much improved compared to the last time we met.”

“I am indeed,” Ye Xiu said. “The latter half of our journey was a peaceful one, I’m glad to say.”

Han Wenqing nodded and sat down again. “I’m glad to hear it. I want to apologize for all the…unpleasantness that occurred.”

Ye Xiu shrugged, leaning slightly on his umbrella, which he propped against the floor. “It wasn’t as if you could have predicted an invasion, Your Majesty.”

“Lord Grim,” said the other man. “I do not think we have been introduced. I am Zhang Xinjie, the king’s adviser.” Surprisingly, he approached and held out his hand expectantly.

Ye Xiu shook it, bemused. “I know of you, Zhang Xinjie. Though I’ve never seen you from this close.”

Zhang Xinjie raised an eyebrow as he stepped back. He surely understood Ye Xiu’s message: that he knew Han Wenqing had likely told Zhang Xinjie about him, and that he was all right with it.

“I hope Qin Muyun and Jiang You have treated you well,” Han Wenqing said.

Ye Xiu turned to him. “They have been very gracious, yes.”

Their eyes met and they stared at each other, caught in a current nobody else could see. Su Mucheng and Zhang Xinjie stood stiffly, watching them.

Then Su Mucheng said, “Your Majesty, Lord Zhang, we have taken the liberty to investigate possible adoptive families. The younglings are safe for the time being, but once we relocate them to their new homes, they will be able to truly begin their new lives. Let’s not delay this happy event any longer.”

With that, Su Mucheng reawakened their original purpose, lost somewhere in words unsaid, and the four of them debated the merits of certain noble families within the capital or nearby.

They all eventually found seats to take, and their conversation wore on for a good two hours before they were able to revise Tang Rou’s original list with options they all agreed with.

Ye Xiu, for his part, was pleased that both Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie were so invested in finding suitable homes for the younglings. Han Wenqing must have communicated a lot of information to Zhang Xinjie previously, because he had already thought of many possibilities himself.

In the wake of their discussion, Zhang Xinjie briefly stepped out to find a servant to fetch them a mid-afternoon lunch.

Han Wenqing looked at Su Mucheng. “You are who I think you are, aren’t you?”

“If who you think I am is Su Mucheng, then yes,” Su Mucheng said with a wink.

Han Wenqing snorted softly. “Of course. I didn’t make the connection when we met in Chalk Town, but Zhang Xinjie pointed it out to me.” He eyed the two of them. “You are very close.”

“Mucheng is like a sister to me,” Ye Xiu said easily. “We have been through a lot together.”

“And deserted together,” Han Wenqing observed.

Su Mucheng shrugged. “It was a long time coming, Your Majesty. If you think to judge us, I advise you to withhold your opinions until you better understand the situation.”

“Well, understanding the situation is my goal.” Han Wenqing rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I am ready when you are.”

They all knew he was talking to Ye Xiu.

Just then, Zhang Xinjie returned. “The servants will prepare the sunroom for us. I thought it would be a pleasant change of scenery… Is something the matter?”

Su Mucheng shook her head and stood up with a smile. “Lord Zhang, I would like your opinion on some ideas I’ve had. Shall we step outside?”

Zhang Xinjie was more than capable of reading the atmosphere. He nodded and gracefully offered his arm to Su Mucheng, who took it without hesitation.

The door closed behind them with a sense of finality.

Ye Xiu looked at Han Wenqing. Han Wenqing looked at Ye Xiu.

“So…” Ye Xiu began, only to cut himself off when Han Wenqing got to his feet. He made his way around the desk and straight to where Ye Xiu sat near a lamp in an adjacent corner of the study.

Han Wenqing knelt before him, hands resting lightly on Ye Xiu’s knees. It was oddly reminiscent of that moment in Chalk Town, right before Han Wenqing took off for battle.

“Er,” Ye Xiu said, flustered.

He could swear Han Wenqing was holding back a smirk, but his voice was solemn. “I don’t dare presume I take priority in your thoughts, but have you considered my offer?”

“You don’t dare? That’s out of character for you,” Ye Xiu snarked.

Han Wenqing huffed at him, but the intent on his face was too marked to ignore.

Truthfully, Ye Xiu was unprepared. He had expected they would have to wait until matters were properly resolved to bring up this topic. And yet, it appeared this was foremost in Han Wenqing’s mind, besides the younglings.

His country was dealing with the consequences of an invasion, and Han Wenqing was entertaining thoughts of romance. This serious, straight-faced warrior king was much more softhearted than Ye Xiu had ever imagined him to be.

Ye Xiu set his umbrella on the floor, then placed his hands over Han Wenqing’s. “I have considered it. But before we discuss that, there are some things I need to tell you.”

Han Wenqing’s hands closed around his. “Go on.”

Ye Xiu took a deep breath. “My name isn’t Ye Qiu. I took that name from my brother, who was born a beta.”

“You…have a brother?”

“Yes, but as far as anyone knows, the Ye family only has one son.” Ye Xiu pursed his lips. “He’s my twin; we look exactly alike. But I was the elder, and my parents—they didn’t want my brother gone, but they didn’t want him in the public eye, either. He’s been forced to hide for all his life, unable to claim a connection to his own flesh and blood. I took his name as a way to…live the life he should have had.”

“A life of bloodshed and war?” Han Wenqing asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ye Xiu chuckled dryly. “You’re one to talk, Your Majesty.”

“Fair enough. But then, what is your real name?”

“Ye Xiu.” He sighed deeply. “My name is Ye Xiu. Not even Tao Xuan was ever told.”

Han Wenqing was silent for a time. At the very least, he didn’t seem angry, only contemplative. Eventually, his eyes met Ye Xiu’s again. “When you do not go by Lord Grim, do you use Ye Xiu? Which name do you prefer?”

“Ye Xiu is my civilian identity. That’s how I think of myself.” He shrugged with a wry smile. “I was never delusional, Han Wenqing. I know who I am.”

“I was not going to suggest you were,” Han Wenqing said. “I was only thinking of how I should introduce you to my family.”

Ye Xiu scoffed. “So sure that I’ll give you that opportunity?”

“Why else would you be telling me this? If you think I’ll turn you away over this secret, you’re wrong.” Han Wenqing’s expression darkened a little. “I allowed myself to be angered before, but I know better now. I know the person you are. I know that I am in love with you.”

Ye Xiu sucked in a sharp breath. He stared at Han Wenqing, unable to remember what else he needed to say.

With a gentle squeeze of his fingers, Han Wenqing asked, “Is there anything else?”

Ye Xiu licked his lips, getting his thoughts in order. There was something else—something that pained him to admit.

“I…told you the reason I don’t reveal myself as an omega. I wasn’t lying, but I didn’t explain everything.”

Han Wenqing nodded like that was to be expected.

“Tao Xuan had some plans for me. It was more than an arranged marriage—worse. He wanted me to participate in—” Here Ye Xiu made a face, unable to help himself. “A breeding program, he called it. Marriage didn’t factor into it. He wanted his best soldiers to produce even better soldiers. He wanted to create proud, powerful lineages that would carry glory and loyalty in their blood. If he had his own ‘nobles’ to win his battles, he would not have to accommodate the noble families anymore.”

A beat of silence.

“He…” Han Wenqing drifted off, his expression stricken. His hands around Ye Xiu’s went limp for a second, then tightened again. “He would do something so immoral? Become little better than a—”

Ye Xiu freed one hand and gently touched the top of Han Wenqing’s head. “It’s all right. It’s in the past now, and as far as I know, Tao Xuan has not started this program.”

“I doubt he’s given up on it,” Han Wenqing said darkly.

“No, he likely hasn’t.” Ye Xiu pursed his lips. “But we are watching him. We’ll know if he does something. Sun Xiang, it seems, was intended to play a role, but now that he is out of Tao Xuan’s grasp…”

“Whatever he wants to do, he will have to put if off again, like he did when you deserted.” Han Wenqing’s eyebrows furrowed. “How can we return Sun Xiang to him, knowing this? That boy is no innocent, but he doesn’t deserve to be used or manipulated.”

“All soldiers are tools,” Ye Xiu said matter-of-factly. “I don’t mean to downplay the seriousness of the situation, but Sun Xiang certainly knows that much already.”

Han Wenqing rolled his eyes. Ye Xiu had never seen him do that before. “I rather doubt it. He is naïve—unbearably so. Shortsighted and vain.”

Ye Xiu chuckled, stroking his hand down Han Wenqing’s cheek. “You sound like a disgruntled elder. What will you do, take him under your wing and show him the error of his ways?”

“That might be better than sending him back to Tao Xuan.”

“But you need to negotiate for the borderlands’ peace,” Ye Xiu pointed out quietly.

Han Wenqing heaved a sigh and looked down. He bent forward until the side of his head rested against the inside of Ye Xiu’s knee. Hunched over and hiding, he appeared just like any other weary man with too many burdens weighing on his shoulders.

Ye Xiu leaned over him, covering him as best he could. Like he could somehow protect Han Wenqing from the demands of his duty, his responsibility.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Han Wenqing made no attempt to lift his head. “For what? None of what’s happened is your fault.”

“Perhaps not, but sometimes I feel responsible, in a way. I know…too much about Tao Xuan.” He swallowed. “Enough to potentially ruin him if I play my cards right. He, like so many of the lords and monarchs of the past decade, has done so much wrong. If we want to stop being tools—if we want what happened to the younglings to never happen again—we need to find a way to take back the power that was stolen from us. But it seems so impossible.”

“And what was can never be again,” Han Wenqing concluded quietly.

“Indeed. Now might also be a good time to tell you—those assassins were sent by him.”

This surprised Han Wenqing enough to make him straighten. Ye Xiu uncurled his body obligingly. “Tao Xuan?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” Han Wenqing demanded—not angrily, but indignantly. He didn’t seem very surprised.

“Really.” Ye Xiu smirked. “I can’t give you any material evidence, I’m afraid. But it seems those attempts on your life were a distraction to keep you from looking too closely at the borderlands. And if the assassins did succeed, well, all the better.”

Han Wenqing stared at him in disbelief. “When did you discover this?”

Ye Xiu shrugged. “We had a theory, but putting the pieces together took a while. On my way here, Old Wei found a way to sneak me a note. Then I confirmed it with one of my agents at the Qin estate.”

Su Mucheng didn’t have a monopoly on gossip, and Fang Rui was in Eracent the most often. He and Wei Chen, with some help from Su Mucheng’s local network, had combined their underhanded powers, sniffed out a money trail, and followed it into the depths of the underworld. Tao Xuan had gotten better and better at covering his tracks, but for people who knew he had to be up to something, it was just a matter of searching for evidence. And Tao Xuan…

“He’s ordered assassinations before,” Ye Xiu said. “Many, actually. He’s even hired assassins to fake deaths.”

“Fake deaths?”

Ye Xiu nodded. “It was the first thing that made me suspect him. I doubt you remember, but years ago, I was often accompanied by another warrior. Su Muqiu, Mucheng’s older brother, was my dearest friend and most trusted comrade. And he died.”

“I know of him,” Han Wenqing said, startled. “Of course I do. You were the center of attention in those days, but Su Muqiu…he was a renowned warrior.”

“He was. And I have good reason to believe he is still alive—but where he is now, even I haven’t been able to discover.”

“If Tao Xuan wanted him to disappear, he could be imprisoned somewhere.”

“Yes, or he escaped and is in hiding.” Ye Xiu sighed. “It’s weighed on my mind for years—mine and Su Mucheng’s. When the Phoenix was conceived, we thought this would be the way to reach him. But so far, we haven’t been able to tease out any clues.”

“You seem very certain that he is alive, and a free man.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Ye Xiu admitted with a self-conscious laugh. “But Muqiu’s passion lay in innovation, even though he was an excellent combatant. He and Mucheng did not come from nobility; they were taken in by Tao Xuan’s relatives. They didn’t have any real backing except for what I could offer them, which was not much back then. Su Muqiu designed military weapons at Tao Xuan’s behest. He was talented at it, and he enjoyed honing his skills, but he was not complacent. He did not approve of the use many of his designs were put to.

“When Su Muqiu died, the army continued to benefit from new technologies. Not at the same rate as before, true, but armor, weapons, all of it improved steadily. It was suspicious, but I didn’t think much of it until innovation stagnated about four years ago. In that same period, a lot of sudden promotions took place, and Tao Xuan tasked some nobody called Liu Hao with ‘assisting’ me. It was all extremely odd.”

Han Wenqing tapped his fingers on Ye Xiu’s knees. “So you began to ask questions when you never had before.”

Ye Xiu smiled bitterly. “As difficult as it is to believe, I looked up to Tao Xuan in the beginning. I defended his cause on the battlefield gladly, even if I was not always enthusiastic about his methods. But over time…”

“Over time, he grew more and more corrupt.”

“Yes.”

Han Wenqing studied his expression. “I am sorry, too. You didn’t deserve to be betrayed like this. To have your best friend taken away from you. To be—used, the way Tao Xuan wanted to use you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know I would never use you that way, don’t you?”

“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Ye Xiu said, his smile shading into something happier.

“I want to help you. I want you to be free, to face Tao Xuan on your terms.”

Ye Xiu hesitated. “I have my reasons for what I do, for why I operate in this way. I won’t give up the Phoenix, not for anything.”

“I won’t ask you to. Do what you must, Ye Xiu, but let me be by your side, in any way I can be.” Han Wenqing gazed at him steadily. “If not as your lover or husband, then as a friend, an ally you can trust.”

“You…want to support the Phoenix.” Spoken aloud, it sounded even more ridiculous than it did in his thoughts.

“Haven’t I already been supporting you, in a small way?”

Ye Xiu shook his head—not in denial, but in disbelief. It wasn’t as if he had never thought about what the Phoenix could accomplish with backing from nobility, even royalty. They already had strong backers in Chen Guo, who founded the Phoenix with Ye Xiu and Su Mucheng, and Tang Rou’s father, who was subtle about his involvement but reliable in his support. Many of his agents, like Fang Rui and Wei Chen, had connections that traced back to their own military days.

They were a bunch of idealists—idealists with the motivation and know-how to make good on their promises. But even they had limits to what they could do. What Han Wenqing was offering was not something Ye Xiu had ever bothered to hope for.

“How would Zhang Xinjie feel about you getting involved in criminal activity?” Ye Xiu whispered, hands now resting on either side of Han Wenqing’s neck.

“Is it criminal activity if it’s government-sanctioned?”

With a laugh, Ye Xiu stopped resisting. He did what he wanted to do almost from the moment he laid eyes on Han Wenqing hours earlier: he kissed him.

Han Wenqing accepted the affection almost greedily. His hands slid up to Ye Xiu’s thighs, gripping them with the kind of possessiveness that Ye Xiu would have vehemently rejected from anyone else. But with Han Wenqing, Ye Xiu couldn’t help but want to give in—to give him everything.

He knew Han Wenqing would take care of him. He knew Han Wenqing was worthy of his trust. He knew they could be more than friends, allies, or even lovers.

“I accept,” Ye Xiu murmured against Han Wenqing’s mouth.

“Hm?”

“Your offer of courtship. I accept.”

Han Wenqing just kissed him harder.

Chapter Text

“Well, look at you all,” Ye Xiu said from the doorway, “getting along like a happy family.”

Zhang Xinjie’s expression was mild. “Did you expect me to allow disorder in my home?”

Ye Xiu snorted softly and strode out onto the veranda, Qiao Yifan at his back. Zhang Xinjie didn’t even move from behind his writing table.

“What are you doing here this time?” Tang Hao said with a groan. Sprawled out on the floor in a patch of sunlight, he was more relaxed than Ye Xiu had ever seen him.

“I’m making the rounds,” Ye Xiu replied as he sat down on the plush rug. “You three are the last on my list.”

“How is everyone?” Qiao Yifan asked, taking a seat beside Ye Xiu.

Tang Hao, Mo Fan, and An Wenyi all glanced at their foster parent—or brother, as they preferred to think of him. But Zhang Xinjie continued to pen his letters.

Ye Xiu smiled. “Well?”

“Fine,” Mo Fan said shortly, curled up in his own patch of sunlight. As soon as he spoke, he closed his eyes, probably to pretend they weren’t there.

Qiao Yifan nodded encouragingly. “That’s great, Mo Fan. And the two of you?”

Tang Hao sat up with a roll of his eyes. “Why do you always have to ask so many questions?”

“So far, it’s only been the one,” Ye Xiu said with a smirk.

“We’re doing well,” An Wenyi replied for them both. “It’s nice here.”

He was sitting at a writing desk of his own, butt planted on a wide cushion. A faint breeze ruffled his hair, which was longer and healthier than Ye Xiu remembered it being as little as a month ago.

It was hard to believe it had been that long, or that so many changes had taken place in so short a time. Ye Xiu was used to change, but normally it wasn’t so…good. Not like this.

Ye Xiu, still smirking, turned his gaze to Zhang Xinjie. “And Lord Zhang? How does he feel about this arrangement, I wonder?”

“I am happy to host the younglings for however long is needed,” Zhang Xinjie said without looking up. “And they are welcome for as long as they like.”

That was news. Ye Xiu had thought Zhang Xinjie would be a better caretaker than his cold reputation might lead one to believe, but he didn’t expect for Zhang Xinjie to volunteer to prolong the experience. Perhaps he was getting something out of this?

“Don’t look so smug.”

Ye Xiu huffed. “You haven’t even so much as glanced at my face.”

“I can still tell,” Zhang Xinjie replied. “Tell me, have you been walking around like that everywhere?”

“Like what?”

“Like an omega.”

Ye Xiu pretended he didn’t understand Zhang Xinjie’s meaning. “I am an omega, in case you did not realize.”

“I think he means without your neutralizer, Senior,” Qiao Yifan said in an almost-whisper, which was completely pointless when they were surrounded by other enhanced individuals.

With a chuckle, Ye Xiu said, “I know what he means, Little Qiao.”

“You’ve even dropped the code names,” An Wenyi observed, sounding impressed for some reason. When Ye Xiu turned to regard him, he noticed that everyone was suddenly staring at him.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I have, in fact, foregone neutralizers today. It’s not as if anyone is going to question me for it when I’m on official business for the king.”

Ye Xiu could swear Zhang Xinjie muttered “official business” sarcastically under his breath. “What was that?”

“The wind, I am sure,” was the royal adviser’s serene reply.

Ye Xiu shook his head in exasperation. Running his fingers over the soft rug beneath him, he asked, “How is the rebuilding, by the way?”

“Oh, that. It’s going as planned. Supplies were distributed to the last of the townships in need a week ago, and we should see marked progress over the next month.”

“That is good to hear,” Qiao Yifan said.

And it was. The borderlands had suffered major blows in several locations. Not serious enough that displaced citizens would never be able to return, but much of the farmland would take a while to recover completely. In the meantime, the people had to eat somehow.

That wasn’t the end of it, of course. Plenty of infrastructure had been damaged as well, which meant the capital had to send engineers to evaluate logistics and plans for reconstruction. Those plans had to be approved by a number of people, and then supplies had to be gathered and a workforce had to be put together. It wasn’t anything as straightforward as fixing what was broken.

In addition to that, the populations of dozens of minor villages suffered massively due to loss of life. Without enough able-bodied people to work, it was impossible for small communities to sustain themselves. While many such communities had fled to Thousand Peak Pass, others remained and stood their ground. In most cases, they had to be convinced to temporarily move into a town that could better support them.

Ye Xiu did not envy whoever was tasked with the convincing.

In short, putting the nation to rights was a harrowing business, through and through. Nowadays, Skystone’s halls were always busy, the country roads were teeming with travelers, and those entrusted with relief efforts were constantly jumping from one disaster zone to the other.

It didn’t help that Eracenti soldiers had been active in Thousand Peak Pass as well. Logically, the borderlands required more attention, but there was a lot of political pressure to focus on the problems closest to the center of power. It was little more than self-interest, but Han Wenqing couldn’t dismiss such demands so easily.

Ye Xiu knew this because he saw Han Wenqing several times a week, and the king always had to comment scathingly on the state of his court.

As if Ye Xiu’s thoughts summoned him, a familiar figure appeared on the garden path leading to Zhang Xinjie’s veranda. Broad shoulders, dark head of hair, flowing furred cloak, and powerful stride—it was Han Wenqing for certain.

Ye Xiu immediately sat a little straighter, only to slump again when he caught himself in the act.

Mo Fan was staring at him, damn it all. He had surely seen Ye Xiu’s aborted reaction.

A moment later, Han Wenqing stepped up onto the veranda, carrying his dominating aura with him. “So you are here,” he said, staring right at Ye Xiu.

Ye Xiu tried not to be flustered, and mostly succeeded.

“Did you really barge into my estate just to look for your omega?” Zhang Xinjie asked, unable to completely hide his incredulity.

“I barge in here all the time,” Han Wenqing said dismissively. “None of you have even greeted me.”

“Oh, hello, Your Majesty,” Qiao Yifan said with a blush. “You just appeared rather suddenly.”

“Yeah, hello,” Tang Hao said.

“Your Majesty,” An Wenyi acknowledged.

Mo Fan didn’t even move; his eyes had closed again. Ye Xiu just waved jauntily, still doing his best to look completely natural. Zhang Xinjie had resumed writing.

Han Wenqing looked around for a moment in baffled (but not especially sincere) offense. Then his gaze focused on Ye Xiu, and he raised his chin.

Ye Xiu merely tilted his head in question.

“Seeing as I have some time to myself today, I arranged for a meal to be prepared for us. Will you join me?”

“Well, if it’s just for us, how can I say no?”

Though his words came out cavalier, it was mostly pretense. Did Han Wenqing really mean to eat with him, or was he just offering a cover…? They hadn’t had many opportunities to get intimate; was this some manner of code?

Perhaps something showed on his face, or perhaps he was not the only one to speculate. Whatever it was they were saying or not saying, An Weny’s muttered “ugh” seemed to indicate neither Han Wenqing nor Ye Xiu were subtle enough.

Ignoring him, Ye Xiu rose to his feet and walked across the veranda to Han Wenqing, easily sidestepping the rugs on the floor. He was wearing his usual gear, his umbrella strapped to his back. It was especially necessary now that the weather was getting colder—despite being thin, his jacket kept him quite warm.

When Han Wenqing held out his arm, Ye Xiu happily took it. They turned to leave, but before they stepped into the garden, Ye Xiu glanced over his shoulder and wiggled his fingers at the others. “Have a nice afternoon!”

“Have fun, Senior,” Qiao Yifan called, waving.

“Thank goodness they’re not staying,” Tang Hao said, just loud enough for Ye Xiu to catch before they stepped out of earshot.

“I swear, they are losing all respect for us,” Ye Xiu remarked as they walked.

Han Wenqing grunted. “It’s all right. I’m not against it, after putting up with the court all day.”

Ye Xiu used his free hand to pat Han Wenqing’s arm. “It’s barely noon, Old Han.”

“The sentiment stands.”

Ye Xiu smiled and said nothing. They carried on in silence, ignoring the subtle stares they garnered from Zhang Xinjie’s few servants as they moved into the open grounds at the front end of the estate. Ye Xiu listened to distant birdsong and internally reveled in Han Wenqing’s scent—something he had come to appreciate more and more as his omega status, and his relationship with Han Wenqing, became common knowledge in the capital.

How any monarch managed to keep their affairs private, Ye Xiu would never know.

“You are not offended, are you?” Han Wenqing asked once they had led their horses from the stables.

Ye Xiu waited until they were both mounted to reply. “Offended by what?”

“Zhang Xinjie calling you my omega. I know this is still new to you.”

To be honest, it might have bothered him a couple weeks ago, but now… “I’m all right with it. Besides, that Zhang Xinjie doesn’t know anything—but he treats me well whether you’re there or not, which is what matters to me.”

“I am glad to see you’re growing on him.”

“Pardon?” Ye Xiu urged his mare to trot alongside Han Wenqing’s stallion as they rode through the Zhang estate’s gates. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Every aspect of my personality is simply delightful.”

Han Wenqing snorted. “Even I wouldn’t go that far, and I am, as the rumors say, besotted.”

“We have only been formally involved for three weeks at most, and already you’re renouncing me.”

That made Han Wenqing laugh, a phenomenon Ye Xiu was determined to bring about whenever he could. They bantered all the way to the castle.

* * *

“You really had a lunch prepared?” Ye Xiu asked, stunned.

Han Wenqing gave him a quizzical look. “That is what I said.”

“I know what you said,” Ye Xiu muttered. He stepped cautiously toward the extravagant picnic that had been laid out in the grass of the Royal Garden, currently closed to all visitors. “I just thought you were trying to be sneaky.”

Han Wenqing seemed to understand, judging by his muffled cough.

They settled onto the picnic blanket after strategically moving a few dishes around. Ye Xiu found his side pressed tightly to Han Wenqing’s, the warmth of his body dulling the crisp edges of the autumn chill. Even with the sunny, cloudless weather, it was a cool day. Pleasant for a walk—not so much for idleness.

Han Wenqing wrapped his cloak around Ye Xiu’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“How have you been, truly?” Ye Xiu asked after they had partaken of some of the fruit.

He felt Han Wenqing shrug. “The court is as tiresome as usual, but progress is being made in the south. As for those plans we spoke of…I passed along the necessary instructions to my best people. Give it a month or two and we’ll see what comes of it.”

Ye Xiu hummed. When Han Wenqing had suggested they begin a smear campaign against Tao Xuan, Ye Xiu had been surprised at his willingness to use such a tactic. Han Wenqing, in his eyes, was the sort of man who tackled problems head-on, who did not ever stoop to political underhandedness. If he wanted to accuse Tao Xuan of something, he would do it openly, regardless of whether he was believed or if he had evidence. Just his conviction would be enough to sway the opinions of many, instantly weakening Tao Xuan’s position.

However, Han Wenqing was being prudent, for Ye Xiu’s sake more than his own. If he told his court about everything Tao Xuan had done over the last ten years, word would undoubtedly reach Eracent. Then Tao Xuan would become aware that Han Wenqing had a reliable source, someone who knew entirely too much to be left alive.

In such a case, Ye Xiu wouldn’t be able to stay by Han Wenqing’s side. It would be too obvious that he was the newest, most outstanding element the king was exposed to. And if Tao Xuan realized exactly who this rumored omega lover of Han Wenqing’s was…

It already took entirely too much effort to get a handle on the rumors of Ye Xiu’s brief appearance on the battlefield outside Chalk Town. He couldn’t afford for Tao Xuan to connect all the dots right now.

(Especially because, at any sign of the Phoenix’s renewed search for Su Muqiu, Tao Xuan would set his dogs on their scent.)

But he knew it would happen eventually; how could it not? Ye Xiu did not intend to live in Han Wenqing’s shadow, to lurk behind his throne. And Han Wenqing had made it clear that Ye Xiu was not a decoration or a passing fancy. One day, Ye Xiu wanted to stand at his side and face the world with him—which meant facing Tao Xuan and everything he had left behind with the identity of General Ye Qiu.

“What’s on your mind?” Han Wenqing asked suddenly.

Ye Xiu laid his head on his shoulder. “The future.”

Han Wenqing’s arm circled his waist. Ye Xiu’s stab wound was mostly healed by now, only a pink scar remaining. Allowed a few days of true rest, his recovery had been speedy. “What about the future?”

After his recovery, Ye Xiu had had to get back into good physical form, an endeavor which involved an exercise routine and a revised diet. Zhang Xinjie had helped with that, his medical expertise aiding the process immensely.

Nowadays, Ye Xiu had to admit he felt better than ever. Not as tired, not as stressed, and…free. Like he had more to look forward to than just the next mission.

What about the future? Before this truly absurd series of events, Ye Xiu would have questioned if he even had a future.

“I was just thinking that I’m happy with you,” Ye Xiu said quietly. “That I want to stay like this.”

“You want to…stay? With me?”

Ye Xiu turned his face up to kiss Han Wenqing’s chin. “Yes.”

Their lips met in a soft kiss, one that turned passionate in a matter of seconds. Ye Xiu swore he had never been so hungry in his life. And yet, despite being surrounded by food, what he wanted the most was the man holding him.

What a gift it was, to want. And an even greater gift, to have. To be allowed to take what you desired, to be trusted, to be loved.

“Wenqing,” he whispered against his lover’s skin, “I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve already made my choice.”

Han Wenqing sucked in a sharp breath, his nose buried in Ye Xiu’s neck. “You’re ready?”

“I have been ready. Please…”

“Anything you want,” Han Wenqing murmured back.

* * *

In Han Wenqing’s bedchamber, the two of them faced each other. Han Wenqing stood closer to the door than Ye Xiu, which seemed backward—but of course Ye Xiu wouldn’t be indecisive enough to insist on an easy way out.

As far as barriers went, though, Han Wenqing was a flimsy one. He would step aside if Ye Xiu wanted him to, no questions asked. And if he insisted otherwise, Ye Xiu was strong enough to remove him.

“Take off your clothes.” Ye Xiu left his umbrella leaning against the wall and sat down on the bed.

Han Wenqing paused for a moment, considering, then did as instructed. Off came his cloak, his vest, his shirt… then his gloves, his weapons and, finally, his trousers.

With someone else, he might have been embarrassed by this show, or even humiliated. He was an alpha through and through, a king used to getting his way. He had never put himself on display, never stripped for a lover’s pleasure. With other bed partners, he had always taken the initiative.

Ye Xiu was not other bed partners. He watched Han Wenqing quietly, avidly, his gaze unwavering, and Han Wenqing relished it.

Fully in the nude and more aroused than he would ever admit, Han Wenqing squared his shoulders and asked, “Like what you see?”

“I’m certainly pleased.” Ye Xiu eyed his hardening cock with a heavy-lidded gaze before his eyes flicked back up.

Han Wenqing’s lips twitched. This forwardness was…surprising. Ye Xiu wasn’t exactly shy, but he was inexperienced. They had fooled around these past few weeks, stealing kisses in shadowed corridors and hidden alcoves. Those fleeting moments of pleasure meant everything to him, yet now that Ye Xiu was offering himself wholly, Han Wenqing hesitated to take him.

“You’ve never bedded an alpha.”

Ye Xiu tipped his head to the side, eyes traveling up and down Han Wenqing’s form. “I’ve never bedded anyone.”

“Because you didn’t want to, or to maintain your cover?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Then do you know what to expect?”

“I think I do.” Ye Xiu looked him up and down again. “I’ve imagined it often enough.”

Han Wenqing’s gripped his cock and pumped it once. “What did you imagine?”

Ye Xiu inhaled. “Just the usual. Pinning. Biting. Claiming my mate as he claims me.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a romantic,” Han Wenqing said with a small smile, moving his hand languorously along the length of his cock. Ye Xiu seemed to appreciate the show, and whatever got Ye Xiu distracted was a good thing.

“Well, there are still plenty of things you don’t know about me.”

Han Wenqing took a slow step toward the bed. Ye Xiu instantly became more alert. “And I’m looking forward to learning all of them. But this isn’t going to be like kissing. When I claim you, you’re going to resist. It doesn’t matter that you want my claim or that you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’m not enjoying myself yet,” Ye Xiu said with an arch of his eyebrow. “Though the view is nice.”

Han Wenqing snorted. Ye Xiu grinned. “I already know I won’t make it easy for you. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Hardly.” Han Wenqing gave his erection another stroke. Just thinking about all the ways Ye Xiu wouldn’t make it easy for him sent shivers down his spine.

“Oh? You can handle me, then?”

“Is there another alpha who can match you in this world? I don’t think so. And if you disagreed, you wouldn’t want me at all.” Han Wenqing took another step forward. “You wouldn’t want to test me.”

Ye Xiu was the kind of omega that alpha warriors dreamed of. His strength was unquestionable. His determination was unshakable. His intelligence, his physicality, his combat skills were self-evident. He was not an easy man to be worthy of, but that wasn’t going to stop Han Wenqing from trying.

“And how do you think I should test you?” Tension stiffened Ye Xiu’s posture as Han Wenqing approached. He looked more like a predator than a lover—and Han Wenqing couldn’t keep himself out of striking range if he tried.

There was no need for Ye Xiu to prove himself; he was already everything Han Wenqing wanted. Now it was Han Wenqing’s turn. He had already proven himself on the battlefield; he had proven himself as a friend and as an ally. Now he had to prove himself as a mate.

What Ye Xiu wanted—what his instincts demanded—was domination. Not a show of force, but an example of control. He wanted to know what Han Wenqing would do to him at his most vulnerable.

All of Han Wenqing’s previous lovers had been submissive. Not overtly so, but the only thing they wanted from him was pleasure, and that was a simple enough request. No alpha or omega had challenged him. None had dared test him. In this, Han Wenqing was as inexperienced as Ye Xiu. Their instincts would have to be their guide.

“That’s up to you.” Han Wenqing inhaled briefly, the combination of pheromones they were releasing going straight to his head—and his cock. “…If I had told you beforehand that I was planning a lunch for us, I would accuse you of foregoing scent neutralizers today on purpose.”

“Well, it’s not as if they have been holding up very well in your presence anyway. Why be wasteful?” Ye Xiu said, all teasing.

This was the first time Han Wenqing had scented Ye Xiu and only Ye Xiu. No hint of sickness, no obscuration, just pure, unadulterated Ye Xiu. It was more compelling than he could have imagined.

“You must have washed off any traces of the neutralizer last night or this morning to smell like this.”

“Do you like it?”

“I’m certainly pleased,” Han Wenqing echoed.

Ye Xiu’s playful smile vanished when Han Wenqing took another step closer. He blinked once, slowly, a low growl vibrating from his chest. Han Wenqing lifted his foot and Ye Xiu outright bared his teeth.

Han Wenqing let his foot drop back down. He was barely a meter from the bed. Ye Xiu had to stay distracted. “Are you going to get undressed any time soon?”

The snarl slid off Ye Xiu’s face like water and some of the playfulness, now sharp-edged with challenge, returned. “If you want me naked…”

Han Wenqing didn’t wait to hear more. He lunged at Ye Xiu, knocking him to the mattress and using his bodyweight to pin him in place. One hand caught the fist about to drive into his side (though not very hard) while the other moved to Ye Xiu’s neck.

Delicate skin shuddered beneath his fingertips. Ye Xiu’s struggles came to an abrupt halt. He stared up at Han Wenqing from beneath his eyelashes, all but radiating lust.

It was a taunt as much as an invitation. Experimentally, Han Wenqing leaned down until he was well within biting distance, then brushed his lips over Ye Xiu’s.

Ye Xiu allowed the contact with a soft moan and parted his lips. Han Wenqing gently licked inside while his thumb caressed Ye Xiu’s throat. He was almost pliant beneath him.

Encouraged, Han Wenqing broke the kiss with a wet sound and started peeling Ye Xiu’s coat off. His hand remained wrapped around Ye Xiu’s neck, grip loose but steady.

To his surprise, Ye Xiu helped with the coat, but cooperation stopped there. Han Wenqing had to let go of his neck to remove the utility belt and the weapons strapped to his limbs, and then he had to get off the bed entirely to remove his boots. Ye Xiu scooted up the mattress when he was done, and it might have been a good sign if not for the crafty expression on his face.

Han Wenqing cautiously put one knee on the bed. No reaction. The other knee. Still nothing. He crawled back on top of Ye Xiu, who watched him languidly, a smirk working its way onto his lips.

“You might be enjoying this a little too much,” Han Wenqing accused.

“How can you say that? It should be a point of pride for you. Or do you want to give up?” Ye Xiu said with a low chuckle.

Nonsense. Han Wenqing hooked his fingers under the waistline of Ye Xiu’s trousers. “You look like you want to bite me.”

“You wouldn’t mind it if I did.”

He absolutely wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

Han Wenqing tried to think it through a bit more, but he was eager to continue, his desire stoked by the promise of danger lurking in Ye Xiu’s gaze. To hell with it. He began unlacing the trousers, eyes flicking up to check on Ye Xiu’s expression every few seconds.

With the laces undone, Han Wenqing pulled the trousers down until they were all the way off. He flung them to the floor along with Ye Xiu’s coat, then studied all the pale skin laid bare.

Faded scars peppered Ye Xiu’s thighs and calves, glaring evidence of a life dedicated to war. Even if he were weaponless, anyone would know Ye Xiu was no fragile gentleman. Han Wenqing couldn’t resist the urge to stroke the thin skin behind his knee.

Ye Xiu must have appreciated the touch. With a delightful flex of well-formed muscles, he spread his legs, his hard cock bobbing with the movement. Below it, the dusky skin of Ye Xiu’s cunt glinted with wetness, completing this blatant display of arousal.

Who would be able to deny Ye Xiu anything when he was like this?

Han Wenqing leaned closer, closer, and closer still. When his breath fanned over Ye Xiu’s crotch, he slowly took the head of his cock in his mouth and sucked, eyes pinned on Ye Xiu’s face.

Ye Xiu’s mouth opened, his eyes closing briefly as if to savor the sensation. “Wenqing…”

Han Wenqing sucked again. Ye Xiu’s hips jerked a tiny bit and his eyes snapped open. His body language, his scent, his heady stare, all of it screamed desire and need.

Then his hand was in Han Wenqing’s hair, his jaw, nudging him away. Han Wenqing obliged, curious and cautious, but Ye Xiu was gentle. That same hand drifted lower, swiped along the slit of his cunt, and rose again, wet fingers coming to rest on Han Wenqing’s lips.

“Definitely too much,” Han Wenqing murmured as he let Ye Xiu’s fingers slip into his mouth. “Mm.”

“I can’t even tell you how I feel right now.”

Han Wenqing could say the same; he’d had no idea Ye Xiu could be this sensual. He waited for the fingers in his mouth to withdraw before he said, “You don’t have to tell me. Show me.”

In light of those words, Ye Xiu slamming Han Wenqing onto his back with a twist of his legs and sitting astride his hips should not have come as a surprise, but Han Wenqing, like a fool, was left blinking in the aftermath. As if Ye Xiu would do anything less.

Ye Xiu smirked down at him and removed the rest of his clothing as quickly as possible. Han Wenqing swore he heard something rip.

“You look good underneath me,” Ye Xiu said breathlessly.

Han Wenqing huffed. Ye Xiu looked good above him—which was not a thought he’d ever believed he would have about General Ye Qiu.

Hands roamed over his chest. Han Wenqing breathed slowly, trying to get himself under control, but it was hard. Ye Xiu was overwhelming, his touch almost beyond Han Wenqing’s ability to endure. He wanted to grab those hands, surge up and pin them—pin Ye Xiu—back down. Ravage him.

But this wasn’t just about passion. Ye Xiu needed Han Wenqing’s control, needed his compliance, his softness. So Han Wenqing let his hands rest on Ye Xiu’s thighs and then tried to be still.

Ye Xiu smiled at him, and it felt like a reward. He rose onto his knees, reached down for Han Wenqing’s cock, and held it to his wet entrance.

Han Wenqing closed his eyes briefly. The anticipation… Well, he’d always suspected Ye Xiu would be the death of him one day.

“Look at me,” Ye Xiu whispered, and Han Wenqing immediately obeyed. Their gazes collided just as Ye Xiu began to sink down.

Han Wenqing’s hands flew to Ye Xiu’s hips, holding him steady. He nearly froze in the next moment, half-expecting retaliation, but Ye Xiu just smiled wider, licked his lips, and breathed out sharply, his brow furrowing. His hands covered Han Wenqing’s like he was asking for more than support.

“Go slow,” Han Wenqing murmured, squeezing.

“I’m trying…ah. It feels good, but…”

“But?”

Ye Xiu’s chest was moving up and down rapidly. He stared down at Han Wenqing, caught somewhere between lust and uncertainty.

One of Han Wenqing’s hands wrapped around his cock and stroked up and down lightly. “What is it? What do you need?”

“I don’t know.” Han Wenqing still wasn’t fully sheathed inside him and Ye Xiu looked like he could barely take more. He lifted himself up again, but on his way down, his walls squeezed Han Wenqing’s length so tightly that even Han Wenqing shuddered with it.

“Let me,” Han Wenqing said, and before Ye Xiu could protest or brace himself, Han Wenqing was pushing him off and rolling them over.

“Fuck,” Ye Xiu said, his fingers gripping Han Wenqing’s shoulders hard enough to bruise.

Han Wenqing growled down at him in warning. Ye Xiu growled back, hands sliding to Han Wenqing’s neck, but not yet grasping.

Ignoring the implicit threat, Han Wenqing repositioned his hips until his erection slipped against the moist crease of Ye Xiu’s inner thigh. Another small adjustment and he nudged at Ye Xiu’s entrance once more.

Ye Xiu’s knees bracketed his body, almost holding him in place. Han Wenqing raised his eyebrows at him, but Ye Xiu did nothing to stop him, just stared up at him with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted.

Han Wenqing couldn’t wait anymore. He pushed inside.

So quickly it didn’t even occur to him to resist, Ye Xiu grabbed the back of Han Wenqing’s head and pulled him down. A stinging bite was administered to the junction between neck and shoulder a moment later.

Now it was Han Wenqing’s turn to curse. He jerked away from Ye Xiu as soon as his jaws loosened, then peeled his hands off him and pressed them to the mattress. While Ye Xiu was still trying to regain control, Han Wenqing pulled back fractionally and thrust all the way into Ye Xiu’s cunt.

Ye Xiu gasped, then clamped his mouth shut and arched his back as if to escape the intrusion. But Han Wenqing didn’t let him get away, just firmed his grip and thrust again, almost as hard.

Ye Xiu let out a small cry and turned his face to the side, eyes squeezed closed. “Dammit,” he hissed, even as his legs wrapped around Han Wenqing’s waist.

Triumph mixed with lust in Han Wenqing’s heart, and he didn’t hesitate to lean down and leave a bite of his own near the base of Ye Xiu’s throat. A claim returned, with just a hint of warning. Be good for me now.

But Ye Xiu seemed to have succumbed at last. He writhed beneath Han Wenqing, neck exposed every time he threw his head back, noises of pleasure torn from his open mouth with every push. Inside, he was warm and welcoming and felt so good that Han Wenqing could hardly think of anything but getting closer, deeper, even though such a thing wasn’t possible.

In the sweetness of victory, Han Wenqing covered Ye Xiu’s body as thoroughly as he could and offered his own neck. Again, the feeling of teeth, but the placement was a little higher, the pressure slighter. Reassurance and confirmation in one, no threat behind it. This was Ye Xiu’s surrender.

“I love you,” Han Wenqing whispered in his ear when he was released. His hands loosened around Ye Xiu’s wrists until he was holding them rather than gripping.

“Love you,” Ye Xiu gasped back, pressing the side of his face against Han Wenqing’s sweaty cheek.

Han Wenqing grunted as he felt the swell at the base of his erection. His thrusts grew sharper as he tried to fit that growing width into the clasp of Ye Xiu’s body. It was snug, but for now it should…

Ye Xiu stroked his back, peppering kisses onto his shoulder and neck. “Be gentle with me, Old Han.”

“I’ll try,” Han Wenqing gritted out, his pleasure creeping toward its peak, “but it’s still probably going to hurt a bit.”

“Ah…that’s okay. I can handle it.”

“You’ll want to bite me again, and not in a good way.”

Ye Xiu huffed out a breathless, hitching laugh. His arms wrapped around Han Wenqing. “Well, as long as you don’t mind me chewing on you…”

“I knew bedding and claiming you wasn’t going to be a painless experience,” Han Wenqing panted. “Don’t worry about it.”

The sounds Ye Xiu was making suggested he was the furthest thing from worried, so Han Wenqing moved his hips in a series of rapid, shallow thrusts, aimed to draw out Ye Xiu's pleasure, and then pulled his cock almost all the way free. For just a second, Han Wenqing hovered motionlessly, staring down at Ye Xiu to commit this moment to memory, before he pushed back in.

It went smoothly at first. Then Han Wenqing started to work his knot inside and Ye Xiu’s eyes snapped open. His blissed-out expression froze with surprise, but when Han Wenqing searched his gaze for fear, anger, or aggression, all he found was trust.

Han Wenqing immediately kissed him, one of his hands rising to stroke the side of Ye Xiu’s face in a soothing manner.

“Just take a deep breath,” Han Wenqing whispered against his lips.

Ye Xiu complied, his hands clinging to Han Wenqing’s back even as his body seemed to flinch away from him. When he felt Ye Xiu’s breathing even out, Han Wenqing shoved his hips forward until his knot sank into Ye Xiu’s relaxed cunt.

This was…

Han Wenqing had to take some deep breaths himself, to avoid…rushing. It was only Ye Xiu’s pained grunt that pulled him back from the brink of pleasure.

“Shh,” he said, “I’ll take care of you.”

“You better hurry up with that, then, or else I really will chew on you,” Ye Xiu replied roughly.

In answer, Han Wenqing reached down to stroke his cock. A few pumps and some grinding, and it was as if Ye Xiu completely forgot the knot inside him.

Han Wenqing knew that wasn’t the case. As soon as he felt Ye Xiu’s walls spasm around his cock, he fumbled until he once again gripped Ye Xiu’s wrists and trapped them against the bed. Next time, he’d let Ye Xiu claw him all he wanted, but there was only so much Han Wenqing could take right then.

Ye Xiu finally hit his peak, the force of his orgasm driving Han Wenqing back into that hazy fog of senselessness and sensation. He was aware of his desperate thrusting, of the constriction around his knot, and then of teeth on his neck, perilously close to something vital—and after that, nothing but skin and lust.

The journey back to self-awareness was sudden, even jarring, and it took a moment for Han Wenqing to realize that Ye Xiu wasn’t chewing on his neck, that he was still coming inside his mate, that the body beneath his was soft and unresisting.

“Wenqing,” Ye Xiu said quietly, “please look at me.”

Han Wenqing raised his head from where it had been buried against Ye Xiu’s shoulder and met sated golden eyes that glinted at him with something like amusement.

“All right?” Han Wenqing said, and his voice was too much of a growl even for his tastes. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Are you all right?”

“I’m excellent,” Ye Xiu said, and to prove his point, Han Wenqing’s cock received another squeeze. Ye Xiu smiled at his groan. “And I’ll have you know I was very nice. I didn’t even bite you that hard despite your snarling.”

Han Wenqing chuckled helplessly. “My apologies. How rude of me.”

“Very.” Ye Xiu ran a hand through his hair. Han Wenqing must have let him go at some point, or he broke free on his own. “How long are we going to stay like this, do you think?”

Han Wenqing grasped Ye Xiu’s hip, pressing their groins firmly together, and then rolled them onto their sides. Ye Xiu exhaled sharply, then threw his leg over Han Wenqing’s thigh and nestled closer. Han Wenqing wrapped his arms around him, kissing his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, any skin within reach.

Eventually, he remembered he’d been asked something. “Fifteen to twenty minutes, probably. Is it uncomfortable?”

“Not for me. What about you?”

Han Wenqing had to restrain a laugh at that. Even now he was coating Ye Xiu’s insides with spurts of semen. He’d never knotted anyone before this, convinced it would be too intimate, too inappropriate, and reality proved him right. He couldn’t imagine sharing this experience with anyone but Ye Xiu.

Because it was Ye Xiu, he could safely say he was happy to stay like this for hours. “I’m very comfortable.”

“You look quite satisfied,” Ye Xiu observed.

“I am. I was able to claim my mate successfully, and I daresay he enjoyed himself while I did.”

Ye Xiu hummed, pressing his forehead to Han Wenqing’s. “He did enjoy it. Especially that part where you held him down and made him accept your knot.”

Han Wenqing almost choked. “Well, if he didn’t want to accept it, he could have just torn my throat open.”

With a solemn nod, Ye Xiu kissed the tip of his nose. “He could have,” he agreed, “but he was too pleased with you. You’re a worthy mate.”

“Am I?” Han Wenqing smiled.

“Yes, though you should warn a man before you fuck him like that.” Ye Xiu pecked him on the lips. “I’m going to have so many bruises.”

“And you sound so disappointed,” Han Wenqing said, snorting. “…Was it too rough for a first time?”

“I think it was perfect.”

Relieved, Han Wenqing kissed the unmarked skin on Ye Xiu’s neck and settled down to rest—as much as he could, with his knot buried in Ye Xiu.

“We had better let Chen Guo and Su Mucheng plan the wedding, or else I’ll never hear the end of it. And neither will you.”

Han Wenqing’s eyes, which had drifted closed in weariness and contentment, instantly opened. “You’re saying…”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, you fool. Don’t act as if it’s such a surprise after all the things I’ve let you do to me during this courtship.”

“You like what I do to you,” Han Wenqing retorted instantly.

Ye Xiu patted the arm draped over his waist. “Exactly. And I want you to carry on.”

Han Wenqing hugged Ye Xiu to him as closely as he could manage. “Whatever you want.”

“And what do you want, Wenqing?” Ye Xiu asked, happily tucking his head under Han Wenqing’s chin.

What an odd question. Shouldn’t the answer be obvious?

Ye Xiu nudged him. Apparently not.

Han Wenqing thought of how he would no longer have to return to empty rooms at the end of each day; of the younglings he had come to care for, whose trust he had earned; of the trials awaiting him and the man in his arms; of all the troubles they had already overcome together.

He thought of I want you to want me.

He thought of I want to know your name.

“I already have what I want.”