The sun had long dipped beneath the distant ridges of black rock, leaving the desert veiled in silver and shadows. Pale moonlight spilled across the dunes like ripples on a frozen lake, casting a quiet glow upon the royal camp.
Dozens of tents dotted the sand like red and gold petals scattered by the wind. The largest, adorned with banners bearing the fiery crest of House Baishen, formed the center of the temporary court. Silk streamers fluttered gently under the night breeze, and glowing lanterns were strung between spears driven into the ground. Soldiers patrolled in shifts, their armor glinting beneath the stars.
A separate cluster of tents had been raised for the noble wives, each tailored to the rank of the woman within. They were ornate, but not equal. Embroidered phoenixes curled around the edges of Lady Xuelian's pavilion, while jade wind chimes guarded the draped entrance of Lady Meiyin's quarters. By contrast, the tent of Concubine Xiuying was less regal in decoration but still noble in its stature. Crimson silk walls, stitched with golden plum blossoms, shimmered in the moonlight.
Inside Xiuying's tent, the air was warm with the scent of amber incense. Pillows were arranged neatly upon the floor, and lacquered panels carved with images of dancing maidens divided the space. A single lantern swung softly, casting moving shadows upon the walls. The cries of a child echoed sharply through the tent.
Baishen Lanyue, just two years old, wailed in frustration as the wet nurse shifted her on her lap. Her tiny fists beat softly against her nurse's shoulder.
Lady Xiuying sat before a bronze mirror framed in mother-of-pearl, her black hair cascading like ink down her back. Her face, pale as snow and perfectly sculpted, was striking in a way that silenced rooms. Long lashes fanned over sultry eyes, and her lips, painted a shade of deep red, curled in irritation.
She was the youngest of the three royal wives. Once a courtesan in the pleasure houses of Yanhuang's inner city, she had risen by seduction, capturing Lord Rongxu's favor with her beauty and wit. Her origins were humble, but her ambition burned with the same fire that coursed through the veins of every Baishen.
"She cries like a hungry fox cub," Xiuying muttered, waving her hand dismissively.
A soft chuckle came from beside her. The maid combing her hair was Meilan, her first attendant. Meilan had once been a dancer, graceful in movement and subtle in mind. She wore a plum silk robe tied with gold tassels and kept her dark hair in two braided loops. She leaned in, whispering gently.
"Perhaps the princess misses her father's arms."
Xiuying scoffed. "As if Rongxu has time for daughters. He only counts sons and battlefield victories."
A second maid, Liling, knelt beside a lacquered box, arranging jeweled hairpins and perfume bottles. She wore a pale pink robe, her face plain but kind.
"Still, my lady," Liling said, "Lanyue is a blessing. A beautiful child. The fire god watches over her."
Xiuying narrowed her eyes. "Blessing? Beauty is not enough in this world. I bore a daughter, and nothing more. The first wife has a son and a daughter. The second wife has two sons. I am alone with a child who still clings to the breast. That is no protection."
The wet nurse, sitting in the corner, adjusted the sleepy princess in her arms. She was a wide-hipped woman with a gentle face and wore a simple robe of gray cotton.
"Forgive me, my lady," she said carefully, "but a child may be nursed until the fifth year. It is not uncommon in the inner provinces."
Xiuying rolled her eyes. "That may be so, but she must learn to stand without the teat. I need a son. Only then can I rest easily in this viper's nest."
Meilan smoothed a section of Xiuying's hair and inserted a golden comb shaped like a phoenix rising from flames.
"You will have one," she whispered. "We shall offer prayers to the fire god. He hears the voices of those most desperate. Perhaps next season you will carry a son."
Xiuying did not respond. She watched her reflection in the mirror, transfixed. Her beauty had opened doors once locked by bloodlines. But beauty fades. And time was never merciful.
Outside the tent, the desert lay under the eye of the moon. The wind had softened to a whisper, and sand slipped down the dunes like falling silk. The campfires flickered in crimson rings, guarded by rows of spearmen and lightly armored scouts.
Madam Chen moved like a shadow through the night. She was an older woman, tall and straight-backed, her hair braided into a bun held with silver needles. In her hands she carried a porcelain bowl that steamed gently. She wore a dark red robe of brocade and walked with the authority of one long in service to House Baishen.
She passed the guards without a word and pushed aside the flap of the first pavilion.
Within the tent of Lady Baishen Xuelian, silence reigned. Compared to the drama behind Xiuying's silk screens, Xuelian's quarters were an oasis of order.
Embroidered with pale blue frost flowers and lined with white fur along the inner walls, the tent reflected her origin. Once a priestess of the ice-blessed kingdom of Binglan, Xuelian carried herself with the calm of falling snow. Her hands rested upon her lap as her two maids removed the elaborate hairpins from her glossy black hair. A third maid knelt nearby, folding a shawl of white fox fur.
Lady Xuelian was the epitome of noble grace. Thirty-four years of age, with high cheekbones, sharp silver eyes, and skin like carved jade. She had been chosen not only for her pedigree, but for the diplomatic power she brought. Her marriage to Lord Rongxu had calmed decades of border disputes between fire and ice. She had given him a daughter, Huali, and a strong son, Huowen, who now trained among the warrior elite.
The maids, dressed in glacier-blue robes with silver sashes, stepped aside as Madam Chen entered.
Xuelian turned her head slightly. "The medicine?"
"Yes, my lady," said Madam Chen, setting the bowl on a rosewood table. "Brewed with snow pear, dried lotus, and fire ginseng. As instructed by the court physician."
The scent of the tonic rose into the air, thick and bitter.
Lady Xuelian gave a small nod. "Pour it. I will drink while they braid my hair."
Lady Xuelian lifted the porcelain bowl to her lips. The bitter aroma of fire ginseng rose through the steam and curled into her nostrils. She drank slowly, her expression unreadable, until the last drop was gone.
The maids resumed their work, gently braiding her long black hair. Their fingers moved with practiced grace, weaving pale ribbons through the dark strands. Madam Chen watched with sharp eyes, her arms folded neatly before her.
Then, a flicker passed over Xuelian's face. She stiffened.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the now empty bowl, and her other hand moved instinctively to her round belly. A sudden pressure rolled through her abdomen like a heavy wave, uncomfortable and unexpected. Her face paled, and her breath caught in her throat.
"My lady?" Madam Chen stepped forward. The maids paused.
Xuelian closed her eyes for a moment. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her back straightened with effort. When she opened her eyes, the discomfort had not disappeared, but it had been buried beneath her composure.
"It is nothing," she said softly. "I am only tired. The day has been long."
"But you held your stomach," one of the younger maids whispered. "Shall we summon the physician?"
Xuelian shook her head, her voice calm. "No. Let no one be disturbed over a passing ache. The medicine was strong. It will pass."
Madam Chen narrowed her gaze but gave a respectful bow. "As my lady commands."
The maids continued tending to their mistress, but their glances carried concern. Xuelian said nothing more. Her hand lingered over her belly, her palm resting gently against the silken fabric that draped her womb. Her child stirred within, faint but present, like the whisper of a flame in the dark.
Time crept forward. Outside, the wind had settled, leaving the desert in deep silence. The stars glittered above, undisturbed by mortal worry. In the heart of the camp, most lanterns had been dimmed. The noble wives had retired to their tents, and the royal guards continued their patrols in steady shifts. Boots pressed quietly into the sand, swords gleamed in the moonlight, and the sounds of the desert returned to the quiet murmur of nature.
Then came the scream.
It pierced the night like the crack of lightning, high and sharp, echoing through the dunes.
The guards halted mid-step. Soldiers turned toward the sound at once, hands going to their weapons. The scream had come from the central pavilion - the tent of Lady Baishen Xuelian.
Another scream followed, shorter but panicked. The quiet camp exploded into motion.
Madam Chen was the first to rush back inside. Maids spilled out of nearby tents, confused and frightened. Torches flared. The guards shouted orders as they ran toward the pavilion. One of the horses neighed in distress from the outer rings of the camp.
Inside the pavilion, chaos had begun to unravel.
Xuelian was on her side, collapsed beside her sleeping mat, her white robe stained beneath her. Her hands clutched her belly, her lips parted in a silent cry. Sweat drenched her hairline. Her eyes were wide and unfocused.
"The baby!" one of the maids cried. "She is going into labor! It is too soon!"
Madam Chen knelt beside her, barking sharp orders. "Boil water. Bring clean cloth. Fetch the imperial physician now."
"The physician is in the last caravan," another maid shouted, already running.
Xuelian gasped, her body seizing in another wave of pain. Blood darkened the silken floor beneath her. The maids surrounded her, frantic but trained. They had been prepared for this day, but not like this. Not now. Not in the middle of the desert, with no temple midwife, and no father present to hold her hand.
Outside, more people gathered. Concubine Xiuying pushed through the guards with a silk shawl draped loosely over her shoulders, eyes narrowed as she approached.
"What is happening?"
"First Wife Xuelian," one of the guards said. "She is in labor."
Xiuying's eyes flickered with something unreadable. She said nothing more, only watched from a distance as the soldiers turned their backs to give the noble woman privacy.
Inside the tent, Lady Xuelian gritted her teeth against the pain.
Her fingers dug into the edge of the sleeping mat. A maid held her hand, whispering soothing prayers to the fire god. Another used a cloth to wipe her brow, already soaked with sweat.
"Madam Chen," Xuelian whispered between gasps. "It hurts. Something feels wrong."
Madam Chen swallowed hard. She had served House Baishen for over two decades. She had seen three noble births and assisted in dozens more, but the blood she saw now, the timing, the pain etched across Xuelian's proud face - none of it felt ordinary.
"Hold on, my lady," she said firmly. "Hold on for your child."
Another contraction rippled through Xuelian's body, and this time she screamed again.