by Jeannie Lin
“Uyghurs?” she asked.
“Khitan,” he replied without emotion.
They were outnumbered and he needed to decide now. Fight or flee. Tension rippled through his body as he detached his bow from the saddle pack.
“If I fall, you ride north.” Kwan-Li indicated the direction with his hand. “Ride hard.”
“Wait—”
There was no time to see if she understood. He hooked the bow over his shoulder and gave her one final look before kicking his heels in to ride back into danger.
His kinsmen had regrouped to face the oncoming riders. The attackers outnumbered them two to one, by his quick assessment. A few of them had broken through the pass and were charging forward.
Kwan-Li urged his knee against the horse’s side, using the pressure to direct the animal, while he reached for an arrow and nocked it. The rhythm of the earth thrummed through him. The cadence of his breathing joined it. The pace of the enemy horsemen rushing toward them became a dissonant harmony. He took it all in.
Kwan-Li sank his weight onto the iron stirrups and rose, standing upright in the saddle. His horse continued its charge. This technique of shooting from the saddle allowed the Khitans to dominate the steppe, but it had been years since he had done this. A lifetime. He drew the arrow back and let it fly.
The body remembered. The heart remembered.
Kwan-Li aimed and fired again, his arrow once again finding its mark.
“Go!” Ruan shouted. “They only want the princess.”
Kwan-Li hesitated. His tribesmen had pushed the attackers back to the pass and were holding their ground.
Ruan exchanged his bow for a halberd. “Go.” His face creased into a grin.”This Old Wolf won’t be dying today.”
With a bellow, Ruan rode into battle.
Chapter Four
No matter how far they fled, Dao could still feel danger chasing them. She had grown up as a household servant in a wealthy section of the city. She’d polished furniture and haggled for good prices on chickens at the market. The only place she’d seen a bow drawn was at the archery park.
They rode for hours before stopping when the sky faded to red and gold. The land had once again flattened out into wide expanses of wild grass. Kwan-Li did one final scan of the horizon in every direction before setting up camp. He started a fire and broke off a chunk of a tea brick into a pot of water.
“They won’t harm you,” he said when she looked over her shoulder warily.
“How do you know that?”
“You are the Emperor’s niece and an imperial princess.”
“Not out here. Bandits don’t care who we are,” she argued.
He fell silent, a frown creasing his brow as the tea brewed. After a few minutes, he handed her a cup filled with steaming liquid.
“Those were not bandits,” he said. “They were from another tribe and they wanted to keep us from reaching the capital.”
He sounded calm now. Deadly calm.
“What about your tribesmen? What about Ruan?”
“Ruan has survived much worse. Now drink, Princess.” Kwan-Li had to close his hands around hers to get her to grip the cup. “You will feel better.”
“Does it have mare’s milk in it?” she asked after a pause.
He laughed. It was brief, but it was a laugh. The touch of his hands was also brief, but they were warm and strong and did more to reassure her than anything else.
“You said the men were Khitan,” she began.
“I couldn’t tell which clan they were from, but none of the tribes would dare raise a hand against you. The wrath of the Tang imperial army would be too great.”
His jaw clenched and he radiated a low, simmering anger. The warrior in him had come out in battle and it remained. Dao could sense the change in every part of him. She had been so naive. This wasn’t a grand adventure to an exotic land. Being a princess meant more than wearing silk and having servants attend to her every need. It meant being caught in politics and power struggles. Things she knew nothing about.
She sipped at the tea. It was bitter, yet fortifying. “Is there always such fighting among the tribes?”
“There have always been disagreements.”
She thought for a long time. “Khitan is a dangerous place.”
His eyes darkened at the statement. “No more treacherous than your imperial court.”
At that moment, Dao felt like she didn’t know anything about anything. Neither the dangers of Khitan, nor the imperial court. In her innocence, she believed that it was an honor to be selected to be an alliance bride. Her half sister had the good sense to flee.
Kwan-Li was watching her carefully. “You regret coming here.”
It was too late for that now. “I won’t be writing any laments about being married to the other side of heaven, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Again, the half smile. “I did not think you would.”
The poetry of the frontier was always filled with homesickness and sorrow, but Dao hadn’t come all this way to wallow in misery. She was a princess now.
“What do I need to know about the Khitan court?” she asked.
“There is conflict in any court,” he said roughly. “But the princess will be protected at all times.”
Was he trying to protect her by keeping her in ignorance? Her half brother had been the same way. When the family had been on the brink of ruin, he’d tried to take all the troubles onto his own shoulders, thinking to shield them from worry. But the entire household had always known. She couldn’t remain ignorant if she wanted to survive.
“Tell me,” she insisted. “I’m to become the khagan’s wife, after all. And you’ll no longer be with me.”
Kwan-Li gave her a hard look. She stared back with a harder look. She won.
“The tribes of the south have lived among the Han, learned your language, in many instances adopting your ways. Other clans have similarly aligned themselves with the Uyghurs,” he continued. “For generations, the Khitan have balanced themselves between these two enemies, trying to appease both sides. The Tang court withdrew support when we became vassals of the Uyghurs, but within the last few years our clan has once again paid tribute to the Emperor to reestablish relations.”
She thought of Kwan-Li who had been sent to the capital to be educated. “Your clan would rather be allied with the Tang Emperor.”
“I would rather we were our own masters.”
There was so much pride and conviction behind that statement.
“You risked your life for the sake of this alliance today,” she said.
“No.” His gaze burned into her. “I did what I did for you.”
It would have been the same had he known she wasn’t royalty. She was certain. He called her princess and almost always did what she asked, but she never thought of him as a servant.
“I’m very grateful,” she said, feeling the words were inadequate. “For all that you’ve done for me.”
His only answer was a brief nod before he went to tend to the pot that simmered over the fire. It wasn’t the first time she regretted how the difference in their positions kept him at a distance.
The rest of the brew was used to cook up a thick gruel of tea leaves and millet. They ate the simple meal in silence while she was aware of his every movement beside her. Kwan-Li was a constant puzzle; scholar and warrior. He was at ease with the silence as they watched the sun melt into the horizon. This
land suited him with its harsh beauty.
“The princess should rest,” he suggested finally. “I will remain on guard.”
She started toward the tent, but paused as Kwan-Li scattered dirt over the fire.
“It is unlikely we would be found out here, but the fire would make us visible from afar in the darkness,” he explained.
They were down to a single sleeping tent as well as a limited number of supplies. All he had for warmth was a wool blanket and the steppe could become frigid once the sun was down.
“There’s enough room in the tent,” she offered.
He stared at her for a moment then looked away, shaking his head. The corners of his mouth lifted wryly. “You are…very beautiful, Princess.”
Their gazes locked. Blood rushed to her face and her heart was suddenly beating too fast. She wasn’t so very beautiful. She doubted Kwan-Li would have ever noticed her if he didn’t think she was a princess, but the way that he said it was more than a compliment.
“I should go,” she said.
“Yes.”
Only in the shelter of the tent did she allow herself to consider what was happening between them.
His words sounded like a warning…and like a promise. As if he wouldn’t be able to resist her if tempted. Her heart pounded.
It was impossible not to have these thoughts. Kwan-Li was young, strong and handsome and she was stranded on the endless steppe with him. They were being pursued. Her future was clouded and she was a little frightened. The khagan was old and…and nothing. She knew nothing else about her husband-to-be.
Darkness descended and a lone wolf howled in the distance, but no mate answered its call. Dao lay down on the rug and closed her eyes. Her thoughts floated outside to where Kwan-Li remained in order to preserve her honor. She realized that she did want very much to tempt him.
* * *
The sky was hanging onto the last orange threads of daylight as the warmth from the fire ebbed away. Kwan-Li seated himself beside the tent and prepared for a long night. Everything had changed. Nothing had changed. It was still his duty to guide the princesssafely to the khagan. The security and future of his clan rested upon it.
He could hear the rustle of movement from inside the tent. There wasn’t a moment of the day where his body wasn’t acutely aware of her. The princess wasn’t yet asleep. After a long moment, there was silence and Kwan-Li stared at the empty horizon beyond. Anything to keep from looking at the tent and thinking of what awaited inside. Loneliness overtook him, a loneliness that came not from the starkness of the land, but from hovering between two worlds.
Out here, there was an intimacy that could never be found within the city. Two strangers meeting quickly became friends. A man and a woman alone quickly became…
He had kissed her only once. That was all he’d ever have, yet the soft press of her lips lingered with him. The open plain provided nothing to distract him.
The princess was moving again. His heart lodged in his throat even before the tent flap lifted. Her shadow slipped over him and her hands settled lightly onto his shoulders. She was a fox-spirit in the moonlight.
“Princess,” he acknowledged.
He spoke with quiet forcefulness. She faltered when he made no move toward her. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, her lips touching his almost fearfully. He let her go on and waited for her to lose her resolve. It was almost cruel, except she was killing him as well.
Her mouth pulled away, but only to descend once again, searching in a caress that was too sweet for what he truly wanted.
“Princess,” he said again, his voice husky.
He already knew he wouldn’t fight her. In a dark corner of his heart, he’d known this moment was inevitable. There was no avoiding one another when they were the only two souls around.
He gathered up her hair as she had done by the river and pressed his mouth to her neck. He inhaled the scent of her skin as her pulse throbbed beneath his touch. He wanted to use his tongue on her. His teeth on her. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t want her.
An-Ming lifted a hand to his jaw. Her eyelashes fluttered delicately against his cheek. “I didn’t want my first lover to be a stranger,” she whispered.
She pressed against him and kissed him again, bolder this time. He’d heard all sorts of stories in the palace about princesses who flaunted authority, who took lovers without shame. He’d never thought it of this princess, but it didn’t matter now.
They moved together, clinging to one another. He shoved the canvas flap aside and the darkness of the tent closed over them. He untied his sash and pulled his tunic open before reaching for An-Ming. He felt her touch momentarily against his chest, pressing softly just above his heart.
More pulling and loosening of cloth. The moment’s delay stretched on for too long before his hands were on bare skin, running up the curve of a knee, the softness of her inner thigh. He parted her, stroking deep with just his fingertips in that most sensitive place where heaven lay waiting.
She gasped, her breath hitching on a sibilant cry that went straight to his groin. Her legs curved naturally around his hips while her mouth sought his. Every part of her body was urging him on. Commanding him. He positioned himself, his organ hard against soft flesh, his mind a storm. He thought fleetingly that she was a princess, that she was inexperienced…that he had a duty. Then he was inside her.
She closed around him, hot and tight. He abandoned all other thought in the wake of the dark pleasure. He began to move in slow, gradual thrusts. An-Ming consumed him and he gave himself over to her. For the first time in years, he no longer questioned where he belonged.
Chapter Five
Dao closed her eyes to concentrate on the feel of Kwan-Li inside her. He was holding her, kissing her. His weight anchored her to the rug. This first time taking another person into her body was…confusing. The heat, the pressure. The feeling of being stretched and invaded. The longing. The pain. The strange pleasure beneath it.
She was being taken. Undeniably so. His every movement radiated through her. The coupling was rough and hungry and unapologetic. Yet when his tongue touched hers, desire curled through her, making her want the things he was doing to her even more.
Soon the pleasure outweighed the pain. Soon there was no more telling what was what in the darkness. There was nothing but the harsh rhythm of their breathing, his weight above her, and a feeling of being anchored and held to the earth while the heavens spun around her.
She pressed her lips to his throat, feeling the pulse that pounded there.
Dao was never one to be taken with romantic notions, but she wanted this. She wanted this. Her body strained against him, becoming single-minded with need.
His thrusts became more forceful. Kwan-Li was flying headlong toward completion. The women gossiped in the servants’ quarters saying that this was the usual way of the bedchamber. Fast. Urgent. Satisfactory for the man, perhaps sometimes for the woman.
Kwan-Li took hold of her hips and shifted them. She was angled up and against him. His hold on her was confident as he slid deeper, his movement within her changing to assail her with a new rush of sensation. He was pushing her to a peak, willing her climax. She ran her hands along the sweat-slicked planes of his back, digging in to urge him on. Her back arched in a plea for more. In that moment, she surrendered herself completely to him, yet her body, this pleasure, was selfishly her own. She cried out into the darkness
as every muscle in her tightened and a flood of pleasure gripped her.
He continued thrusting into her as she convulsed around him. Kwan-Li buried his face against her neck, his breath harsh with exertion. His muscles clenched tight as he finally allowed himself his own release.
In the stillness afterward, he remained on top of her, heavy and indolent. Their pulses combined in a mismatched rhythm. Dao ran her hand over the contours of his back, appreciating the musculature beneath the warm skin. The dusky light played delightfully over him. He was lean in build, brimming with wiry strength. The years of living in the empire hadn’t softened him.
He indulged her for only a little while longer before planting a kiss against her shoulder and rising. She was left cold at his sudden departure. The evening was upon them and the tent was dark, casting him in shadow and hiding his face from her. The shuffle of cloth punctuated the silence.
He was getting dressed.
Dao gathered her robe against her breasts and sat up, inhaling sharply at the soreness between her legs. Was it only moments ago she was clinging to Kwan-Li, crying out with his body hard inside her? Her face grew hot at the memory. Now his movements were brusque.
Kwan-Li came back to her. His fingers brushed through her hair. “I need to keep watch outside, Princess.”
The ambush. Not to mention the threat of wolves. All of that had seemed far away while she was in his arms. She felt embarrassed for thinking the worst of Kwan-Li when he had been nothing but loyal. Her doubts were not about him, but about herself.
She was the one who had chosen this. Chosen him. She wasn’t beguiled or seduced.
He held his hand at her nape as he kissed her, his touch possessive, his mouth demanding. “Get some rest, but do get dressed. We may need to leave quickly.”
By the time he left, she was warm and dizzy with all that had just happened. Her forbidden lover was leaving her bed in the darkness of the night. Her toes curled with the decadence of it.