THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES, DAY OF THE FUNERAL
The horse drank deeply from the mountain stream, its muzzle breaking the surface of the water in gentle ripples. Prince Liang Jian sat nearby on a flat rock, his eyes fixed on the distant mountains but seeing nothing.
Two days.
Two days of riding through wilderness, tracking phantom trails, killing scattered Xiongnu scouts who had strayed too far from their camps. Two days of dust and blood and the kind of silence that let unwanted thoughts creep in like poison.
He closed his eyes and immediately saw them again.
Yifeng and Su Yan. In the garden. The lantern light catching on her face as she looked up at his brother. The way Yifeng had leaned down, slow and careful, and….
Liang Jian's jaw clenched.
He had not meant to see them. He had been passing through on his way to prepare for this hunt, moving through the shadows as he always did. And then he had heard her laugh and he had stopped.
Fool. He was a fool.
