Three weeks into the journey

She had forgotten how lonely it could be, riding through the Sea of Grass alone.

Without a caravan to hold them back, however, she and Umut made good time crossing the vast expanse of grasslands. But being without the caravan meant that Zhu had no one to talk to and Umut had no other horses to socialize with. Though they could talk with one another, topics of conversation quickly became scarce. Except one—one that neither wanted to discuss, despite knowing they needed to.

When they were only a few hours from the place where the Huns would summer, Zhu decided to stop for the night. It was nearly midnight; both were tired and hungry. As Zhu gnawed on a piece of hardtack and some dried meat, Umut knew it was time to talk.

Laying down beside Zhu, she started to eat some grass. 'Zhu, we must talk.'

Closing her eyes, Zhu sighed. "We've been silent on the topic thus far. We can let it remain such."

'No, we can't. Child, are you really going allow yourself be married off to that foul man?'

"It's the only way to protect my loved ones."

'There has to be another way—a way that doesn't involve letting Mundzuc claim yet another victory at your expense.'

"Unless you know of a way I can somehow get an army without anything in return, there is no other way." She broke the piece of hardtack in half before pouring a bit of water from her flask over it. "I have already come to terms with my decision. Why can't anyone else?"

'Because you do not love him, child! You deserve to be happy and to marry someone you love—'

"Yes, well, the people I am in love with are happily in love with other people," she grumbled. "Even if they weren't, they would never fall for me…" She took a bite of the soggy hardtack, chewing it slowly and refusing to look at Umut.

'And who is to say you won't fall for someone else? Who is to say someone among your people wouldn't fall for you?'

She sighed. "If that happens, then I will take them on as a lover."

Umut snorted. 'And what if Mundzuc were to find out?'

"He can do nothing about it. As queen, I outrank him; he will only be King Consort."

'But still a king. He will still have power.'

"Not as much as you would think. I am Shan Yu's kin; therefore, I hold more power over the Huns. Mundzuc, however, has no ties to the Huns aside from our soon-to-be marriage."

'I see…but, regardless, he will know and he will try to do something about it.'

"I will not let him."

Umut let out a sound that resembled a sigh, flicking her head back to get her mane out of her eyes. 'Child, you are as difficult as ever. Maybe even more so right now.'

Zhu nodded, tossing the last of her hardtack over her shoulder and shoving the jerky back into her saddlebag; they were making her jaw ache. "You know how I am when I am about to do something I don't want to do." She scooted down, pulling the hood over her cloak over her head and eyes.

'Child…when I gave you this second chance at life, you promised me you would try to live out the rest of your days in happiness.' She watched Zhu roll over, her back now facing the mare.

"I will be happy so long as my sisters are safe." Bringing the saddlebag over, she tucked it under her head like a pillow. "Goodnight, Umut."

'Child…' Defeated, Umut leaned her head down, resting it on Zhu's hip.

The camp looked even smaller than she had imagined. Zhu was used to seeing yurts dotting the landscape for as far as the eye could see; finding such a small cluster of them huddled together was almost unnatural.

"There really are very few of them left," she murmured, eyes narrowed as she counted the yurts. In total, there were only seventy-five, though it seemed like there was at least twice that many people. As for the animals, there was nearly quadruple that number. "They are not doing too bad, judging by all the animals…"

Umut started to trot down the hill. 'But we do not know how many of them are sick or dying. The ill would be kept inside the yurts, would they not? To keep the rest of the camp from becoming infected?'

"It depends," she murmured. "Sometimes, it is better to let the sick breathe fresh air than to keep them inside for the duration of their illness. Also, the sun has only just risen. Not everyone is awake just yet."

'That is true.'

Approaching the camp, Zhu kept her eyes fixed on the center-most and largest of the yurts. It had to be larger than the rest thanks to it having belonged to Shan Yu. Thanks to her dreams, Zhu knew that Mundzuc had taken up residence with its walls.

She brought Umut to a halt just outside the camp. The mare gave her a puzzled expression, but it was ignored as Zhu took her lead. Then, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it through her nose, Zhu started to walk towards the center of the camp.

As they passed through, they could feel the stares of awe and disbelief of the Huns around them. Some even began to follow them out of sheer curiosity. From the corner of her eye, Zhu could see a young boy—no more than fifteen—darting away. She wondered if it was out of fright.

The two came to a halt outside of the center yurt. Seconds later, the door was shoved open and Mundzuc stepped out. Seeing Zhu, though, he took a step back, his eyes widening in shock.

"Shan Zhu?" he gaped, blinking in disbelief.

Her brow rose. "Do not act surprised," she replied, voice dry. "You knew I was coming, old man."

He narrowed his eyes at her, a frown coming to his face. "Yes, but I wasn't expecting you for another week."

"I could leave and return in a week if you would like." Before Mundzuc could scold her for her sarcasm, something large moved into her peripheral vision.

"…Shan Zhu…?" Turning her head, Zhu's eyes widened and she gasped.

Roua was standing just feet away. His eyes were wide and his skin pale as he stared at her, his jaw hanging partially open. To her surprise, he was wearing a shirt—a garment she hadn't seen him wear often outside of winter. But along the shirt's neckline, she could see the ends of various scars just barely peeking out.

Why he wasn't trying to kill her, she didn't know. After what she had done to him and the other Elite, she wouldn't have blamed him for trying; it's what she would have done.

Maybe.

"Is it really you?" Roua gawked.

She slowly nodded. "It is."

As Roua stepped towards her, she started to grow tense. Now he was going to try to kill her, she thought. He reached over and she expected him to grab her by the throat; she expected him to throttle her in front of everyone.

But he did no such thing.

Instead, Roua hesitantly set his hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze, checking to see if she was real. Finding that she was, he moved his hands up to feel her face. He felt her cheeks, her hair—even her ears—and found all to be very much real and very much alive.

"I didn't believe Mundzuc when he told me you were alive," he admitted.

A melancholic smile came to her lips. "I wouldn't have, either."

He grew quiet again, carefully scrutinizing her face for any changes. "Your eyes are black," he stated after some minutes, his voice quiet. "You've made a pact." By now, tears were beginning to pour down his face.

She had never seen him cry.

"Not with a demon," she quietly assured him. "With a djinn. She returned me to life."

He slowly nodded, though she could tell he was having a hard time processing her words. "So…you did die?"

"Yes."

"Is Shan Yu—?"

She shook her head. "No. He—" She sighed. "It is a long story." A small curse left her mouth as Roua suddenly lifted her up, hugging her tightly. Wriggling her arms free, she clung onto him; at this point, she was crying just as hard as him. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Don't be. You were right. Shan Yu had told us so many lies…" Shaking his head, he set her back on the ground. "We should have known. What else could make you of all people betray him? We should have listened to you."

"I still hurt you," she told him, voice quiet. "I hurt you and Ruga both. After all you two did for me…" Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs.

Cupping her face, Roua kissed the top of her head. "We hurt you just as much," he told her, hugging her once again. "But…you're back. That's what matters now. You're back and you're safe and you're alive."

"And she's a queen now."

Both looked over at Mundzuc, who stood some feet away. His arms were crossed over his chest as he waited for their reunion to end.

"I have been a queen," Zhu retorted. "Just one who was also held as a political prisoner."

He nodded. "Which is why we need to tell you about all that has happened over the last five years." He then smirked and, reaching over, wrapped his arm around Zhu's waist and pulled her against his side. "Afterwards, you can tell Roua of your plans to marrying me and permanently settling the tribe." He kissed her temple, ignoring the disgusted look that came to her face.

Roua's eyes widened and he stared at Zhu in shock. "You—you're going to marry Mundzuc?"

She looked away from him, face filled with shame. "Yes."

"But…you—"

"She claims it will only be a political marriage," Mundzuc interjected. With his free hand, he reached over and gently forced Zhu to look at him. "But I know otherwise." He quickly moved his hand away as she tried to bite him.

"You read too much into nonexistent details," she growled, shoving him away. "No matter how hard you will wish otherwise, this is going to be a purely political marriage."

He reached over and lightly ran his fingers between her shoulder blades. A shiver shot down her spine and he chuckled, his brow rising. "Keep telling yourself that, my beloved."


Fourteen weeks into the journey

"Only two more days until we reach Baibalik."

Zhu lifted her head, turning it in the direction of the voice. "And you are positive your father will give you part of his army?" She hated how she couldn't see where Mundzuc was or what he was doing—it left her constantly on edge.

Mundzuc knelt down beside her, startling her when he spoke. "Yes. He explicitly told my brothers and me that whoever of us marries first gets a third of his army." Taking one of her hands, he set it against the cup of tea he had brought her.

"A third of an army is better than none," Zhu sighed, lifting her other hand to help hold the cup. As she sniffed its contents, she found it to be mint tea. She took a sip of the hot liquid, her tongue and throat now burning thanks to her impatience. Her stomach, however, began to settle a bit. "I hope this nausea stops soon…I do not know how much more of this I can take." She scrunched her nose up slightly when she felt Mundzuc kiss the top of her head.

"I'm sure it will be," he told her, his voice moving away. "Bolormaa said this tea should help. I'm not sure what's in it, but she has never done us wrong."

"It could be made of horse shit for all I care," she groaned. "So long as it gets rid of this nausea."

There was a contemplative sound to her left—Roua. "It's odd that your stomach only acts up at night."

"When has my body ever done anything in the normal fashion?" she groaned. She grew tense when she felt Mundzuc carefully set his hand over her stomach.

"Our child is growing inside you," he reminded her, voice surprisingly gentle. "Nothing is going to be normal for you for some months."

She frowned. "Do not remind me," she mumbled. Despite knowing that her pregnancy meant getting an even larger army to protect her sisters, she wasn't thrilled about growing another human inside of her. 'Maybe if the child had been made with someone I actually loved, things would be different…' she thought, taking another sip of her tea.

Her eyes suddenly shot open and she clamped a hand over her mouth, her face growing pale. Cursing, Mundzuc grabbed a nearby bucket and pushed it into her lap. His timing was perfect—Zhu lurched forward and started to vomit into the bucket. Roua leaned over and started to rub her back in small circles.

"I remember your mother going through this same thing when she was pregnant with you," he told her, "though, her vomiting was in the morning. But it didn't last through the entirety of the pregnancy."

"When did it stop for her?" she groaned, her voice sounding oddly echoey inside the bucket.

He watched as Mundzuc darted across the tent, pouring some water into a wooden cup. "It stopped when her pregnancy started showing."

She groaned. "Spirits kill me now…"

"No one is going to kill you," Mundzuc scolded, grabbing a rag. "I'll make sure of that." He sat down beside Zhu once more, waiting until she finished throwing up before helping her sit up. Her face was no longer pale, but red and blotchy. Cupping a hand under her chin, he held the cup to her lips so she could drink.

Roua narrowed his eyes as he stared at Mundzuc. "Odd words coming from the man who's wanted her dead for half her life."

"I never wanted her dead. Near death, maybe; but never dead." He took the bucket from her, setting it aside. Then, using the rag, he carefully wiped off Zhu's mouth and chin.

"Could have fooled me."

"Well, that isn't—"

"Stop," Zhu suddenly ordered, her voice firm. "I cannot handle another argument between the two of you today." She leaned over, hoping Roua's arm was close enough to lean against. Thankfully, it was and she let out a quiet sigh as she closed her eyes. "How the two of you did not kill one another in the last five years, I will never know…"

"Sorry," the two men murmured. Only Roua's voice bore actual shame.

Bringing her knees to her chest, she curled up beside Roua. "How long must we stay in Baibalik before heading to the summering grounds?"

"A few weeks at the minimum," Mundzuc replied.

"Why so long?" she asked, frowning.

"My father will want to make sure that we're properly married and that you're actually with child," he explained. "Then, he will need to shuffle his forces around. From there, we'll need to gather more supplies and food for the additional warriors."

Roua cocked a brow. "Properly married?" he repeated, voice dry. "What's that supposed to mean? You're already married to her."

Mundzuc sighed. "It means we're going to have a second marriage—a Mongolian marriage."

Zhu scrunched her nose up. "I don't want to marry you again." She took a sip of her now-cooled tea. "Marrying you once was bad enough—and not because of the reason you are thinking of, Roua. I did not like all of the attention on me and having to wear so much jewelry…"

"Then you're going to hate our second wedding," Mundzuc chuckled. "There'll be even more attention on you and far more jewelry. Some of it will be a permanent addition to your wardrobe."

She frowned. "…I am afraid to ask."

"Married women in my culture wear special headdresses," he explained. "They are elaborate in and of themselves, but as you are a queen, yours will be even more so."

Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. "Spirits help me…"

Mundzuc was nothing like his father.

Zhu had expected Hadan to be lean and wiry with sharp face like Mundzuc, but she found that her mental image couldn't have been farther from the truth. He was similar in size to Shan Yu, being tall, broad, and muscular. Unlike Shan Yu, however, his hair was long and silvery-grey and he had a short, pointed beard to match. His face was covered in scars and wrinkles, making him look every bit the fearsome warrior Zhu had heard about. He walked with an air of pride, but not of arrogance.

She had also expected him to be just as cold and calculating as Mundzuc, but he once again proved her wrong. When she first met him, she was more than a little surprised when he scooped her up and hugged her tightly. He let out a loud, booming laugh and enthusiastically proclaiming that it was about time she and Mundzuc were ready to wed. Then, upon finding out that she was already with child, he ordered a great feast to be made ready so that the good news could be suitably celebrated.

For now, however, they were having their morning meal together. "Now, if only your brothers could be here!" Hadan laughed. He clapped Mundzuc on the back, making his son lurch forward somewhat. "Imagine how jealous they'll be once they hear that you've married a queen while they're pining after some mere princesses!"

Mundzuc straightened up, a displeased look on his face as he used a cloth to sop up some of the wine he had spilled on himself. "Yes…so jealous…" he murmured. "Are you aware of what they've done, by the way?"

Hadan cocked a brow, his smile beginning to fade. "Hmm? What'd they do this time?"

"They killed the Emperor of China," Mundzuc answered.

"Because they discovered he had sent the princesses into hiding," Zhu added. She hesitantly ate a piece of mutton; though it was midday, she was afraid that her stomach may begin to act up if she ate too much.

A dangerous look passed over his face. "Those idiots did what?!"

Mundzuc nodded. "You heard correctly."

He rubbed his forehead, growling under his breath. "Those numbskulls, always thinking with their damned cocks and not their brains—do they have any idea what sort of repercussions are going to happen now?!" He slammed his cup down, making the table shake. "I knew should have castrated them the last time they visited! I had been wanting to avoid a war with Taizong!"

"Well, Taizong is dead now," Mundzuc pointed out, "and, save for all the bastards he sired with his whores, he has no family left. China's noble families are now left to feud among themselves over who gets to rule now."

"What of the princesses? Did your brothers find them?"

Zhu shook her head. "I made sure that your sons will never find them," she replied, her voice taking on a dark tone.

"The princesses are Zhu's half-sisters," Roua quickly elaborated. "They share a mother—the former Empress of China. As her only remaining family, Zhu is fiercely protective of them."

Hadan nodded slowly, stroking his beard in thought. "Good," he finally said. "Those idiots don't deserve whores, let alone princesses, for wives." He then patted Mundzuc on the shoulder. "You always were the good son, Mundzuc. Thank the gods you didn't turn out like those idiots." His voice had a hint of laughter to it.

Zhu's brow rose somewhat. 'Mundzuc? The good son?' she thought, sipping a bit of her drink. It was an odd, orange tea made with juice from a berry called a sea-buckthorn. Though it was tart, she enjoyed the flavor. 'If only Hadan knew what his son has been doing these last ten years, he wouldn't think of him as the good son anymore…'

"So, Shan Zhu," Hadan said, drawing her from her thoughts, "answer me this: I had been told you and your uncle suffered a fiery death—in fact, it was Mundzuc and Roua here who first told me the news. And yet, here you sit: Alive and with child no less."

"I had died," she answered, setting the tea down, "but thanks to an…otherworldly being, I was given a second chance. I am still not entirely sure how or why, though." The last bit was a lie; she didn't feel like explaining the true circumstances.

He stroked his beard again; his amazement was all too evident on his face. "Interesting," he murmured, eyes wide. "Very interesting…and yet, you came back unscathed?"

Mundzuc shook his head. "She has an enormous scar as a reminder," he answered before Zhu could speak. He smirked, seeing her cheeks grow dark—he knew how much she hated the scar. "It covers her entire back. How she had any skin left afterwards, I'll never know."

"Because magic," she blandly retorted, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. She took another drink of the sea-buckthorn tea, having to use a great deal of willpower to not hold the cup too hard for fear of shattering it; Mundzuc had no right to tell anyone about the scar. Sighing, she set the cup down and tried to eat another piece of mutton.

So far, it seemed to be settling alright.

"Is that the reason why your eyes are black, then?" Hadan questioned. "Or rather, black and silver?"

"Yes. Though, with the new moon, my eyes return to normal and I am rendered blind for up to a week. The blindness, I know, was caused because I opened my eyes as the explosion happened." A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered the blinding light of the hundreds of fireworks going off all at once.

Reaching over, Mundzuc tenderly ran his knuckle against her cheek, an almost pitying look on his face. "Let's talk of something else," he suggested, voice soft. He tucked some hair behind her ear. "She doesn't need to relive that moment."

'Even though you partially instigated it,' Zhu thought, tearing off another piece of meat.

"How long do you think it will take for the wedding preparations to be completed?" Mundzuc asked his father. "With Zhu having no family present, I assume we can just skip to the ceremony part instead of the whole proposal bartering and other such nonsense."

Hadan's brow rose. "Nonsense?" he repeated, a bit offended. "You know better than to call our traditions 'nonsense', Mundzuc," he scolded. "But, yes, I suppose many of the traditions can be set aside, as you're already married—by Hun standards." He took a long drink of his milk liquor before setting his cup down and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Zhu will need to be fitted for the proper attire, of course, and a headdress made for her—"

"A simple outfit and a beaded headdress will suffice," Mundzuc told him. He glanced at Zhu, surprised to see a thankful expression on her face. "She isn't a fan of wearing too extravagant of clothing or accessories. That, and we cannot stay here for more than a month."

"And why not?" he asked, almost pouting.

Zhu gave him an apologetic smile. "My family is not aware that I am with child," she explained, "and when the time comes to give birth, I would like to have my mother and sisters with me."

He nodded in understanding. "That makes sense," he conceded. "Having some women you trust around when such a time comes will surely be better than being surrounded by a bunch of clueless men."

At that, Roua pouted. "Mundzuc may be clueless, but I'm not," he argued. "I helped deliver Zhu."

Mundzuc's cheeks pinkened. "I am not clueless," he growled. "I know how pregnancy works."

Hadan let out a loud, amused laugh. "Seeing a pregnant woman from afar and actually being married to one are two completely different things, my boy. In the coming months, you are going to learn just how much hardier women are than us men. And you'll find yourself grateful that you have only one pregnant wife."

"…You had more than one wife pregnant at the same time?" Zhu asked, her brow rising.

"Yes," he chuckled, "three, in fact—and I made sure it never happened again." He shook his head, still laughing. "I can look back and find it humorous now, but back then, I had been praying to the gods for even five minutes of sleep because, of course, the children refused to have the same schedule."

Her brow still raised, she looked at Mundzuc. "You never told me you had more siblings."

"I don't," he told her, voice dry. "Those three children are my elder brothers. All born on the same day, within the same hour." She drank the last of her tea and, not wanting to risk making herself sick, she pushed her mostly-full plate of food away from her a few inches.

"So they're not actual triplets?" Roua questioned, frowning in confusion. "But they look so alike!"

Hadan laughed again. "That's because their mothers were 'actual' triplets!" he explained. "Mundzuc's mother, though—she came from a tribe near the eastern coasts. She didn't speak much, but she was fiercely intelligent—twice as smart as any man, that's for sure." He nodded at his son. "He inherited her smarts and a good thing, too, because apparently, his brothers were born without brains."

Zhu slowly nodded, rubbing her stomach. "Well, someone had to inherit them, I guess." Though she didn't feel sick, she didn't feel quite right, either.

"Are you alright?" Mundzuc asked, his brows furrowing.

"I…am not sure," she admitted. "I cannot tell if my stomach is wanting to get sick or if it is just gas building up…"

He frowned and started to get up. "Time for you to go lay down, then," he said. Once on his feet, he helped her stand.

As soon as she stood upright, Zhu covered her mouth. Instead of vomiting, however, she let out a massive belch that took the three men by surprise. Seconds after the first belch, a second, smaller one followed. Her cheeks bright red, Zhu let out a nervous chuckle.

"…Well, I feel much better now."


Twenty-eight weeks into the journey

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Shh, shh—just try to relax. Tensing up like this isn't going to help."

"I would like to see you try to relax when it feels as if your bones have turned into red-hot iron!" Zhu hissed through clenched teeth.

Roua sighed, doing his best to help her by massaging her calves. "Have you done much walking today?" he asked, kneading a bit harder.

She quietly swore under her breath. "No. Less than usual, actually," she answered, her eyes clenched shut. "Mundzuc is refusing to let me do any walking he deems unnecessary."

"That could be why your legs are cramping up—because you're not stretching them as much as usual." He switched to her other leg, trying to rub them as evenly as possible. "It is good to stay active for as long as possible; at least, that's what your mother lived by. Something about it keeping the body in shape for when it comes time to push the baby out…"

Sticking her tongue out, she shuddered. "Please do not remind about that…" she murmured.

Roua raised his brow, glancing up at her. "About what? Giving birth?"

She nodded.

"…Zhu, I'm not sure if you know this, but giving birth is a part of pregnancy," he told her, voice heavy with sarcasm. When she tried to lightly kick him, he caught her leg. "You know it's the truth."

"Yes, I am well aware of the stages of pregnancy," she grumbled, "but that does not mean I cannot be—be disgusted by the thought of them."

He frowned. "You're disgusted by your own pregnancy?" he asked, concern filling his voice. "But…Zhu, you're growing another life inside you! How can you not think that a beautiful miracle?"

She gave him an unamused expression. "Roua, there is something growing inside me," she stated. "A thing. Growing. Inside me. And, as a result, it is putting me through hell. I am always tired; I can no longer fit into my clothes; I cannot get a decent night's sleep—I cannot even eat a meal without some part of it nauseating me!" Tears started to flow from her eyes as she listed off the reasons. "And the worst part is everyone touching my stomach and telling me that I should feel so blessed and so lucky to be bearing this child!"

His frown grew in size and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Zhu…I…I didn't know that's how you felt…"

"It is," she sniffled, trying to wipe her face off with her sleeve. "And it is only going to get worse." Closing her eyes, she ran a hand over her hair only to end up skewing the beaded headdress she wore. She quietly growled and yanked it off her head, tossing it to the ground beside her.

"I am sure things would be different if this child was a product of love. But they are not," she continued. "And I know I can't be upset at them—and I am not, honestly—because this isn't their fault. But—but this whole thing just feels so completely gross, Roua!"

Sighing, Roua pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured, not really sure what to say. Zhi hadn't been like this when she had been pregnant—quite the opposite, really. She had been excited to be with child and didn't mind it when people touched her stomach.

'Then again,' Roua thought, 'Zhi had a normal life until we kidnapped her. She was raised around women and knew what to expect from pregnancy. But Zhu? She was raised among men and women who weren't likely to get pregnant. Of course she wouldn't see this as a miracle…'

"What happened?" He looked up, startled. Mundzuc was hurrying towards them, his brows furrowed with worry. "Why is she crying? Are you alright, Zhu?" He knelt down beside them, carefully pushing some hair from Zhu's face.

"She was having leg cramps," Roua explained. "And…she had a bit of an emotional moment." He frowned slightly when Mundzuc carefully pried Zhu away from him only to cradle her against his own chest.

"Is that all?" he asked, not entirely convinced. "Or is there more to it than that?" He started to gently rock her as she cried.

"I broke down," Zhu choked out. "I broke down and ranted about how much I hate being pregnant and about how much I hate it when people touch my stomach just because there's a thing growing in me. Nothing of importance."

He leaned back slightly, frowning as he looked down at her face. "I didn't know you didn't like having your stomach touched."

She used her sleeve to wipe her face. "I hate it! I hate it so much! Just because there's a baby in there does not mean everyone is free to come up to me and feel it. It is still my stomach and they have no right to touch me without my permission."

Mundzuc was silent for a moment; he pulled her close again, stroking the middle of her back. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he murmured.

Roua sighed as Mundzuc glanced at him. Needing no words to be spoken, Roua nodded and stood up, leaving the tent. Not that he wanted to—he didn't trust Mundzuc whatsoever. But he knew that he wasn't dumb enough to hurt Zhu while she was pregnant.

Argue with her? Yes.

Try to physically hurt her? No.

"Do you really hate being pregnant?" Mundzuc asked after some minutes.

"Yes," she mumbled, feeling weak and tired. Her crying had ceased, but her voice was still quaking. "It is disgusting."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course it is. Whoever claims otherwise is a fool."

She tried to look up at him, but couldn't see much past his chin. "You have no idea how gross it is. You only get to see what happens on the outside. But on the inside? I can feel the child move. I can feel as they turn themselves around and as they start kicking and stretching." She shuddered; almost as if on cue, the child within her kicked. "It is vile and disturbing and so fucking gross!"

Mundzuc pitied her; on more than one occasion, he had seen her near-death and she hadn't complained once. Whatever it was she felt had to have been bad to make her break down like this. Sighing, he knew nothing he said would do anything to help and, so, he remained silent. He continued to rock her and stroke her back, hoping that it was bringing her some form of comfort.

Despite their arguments and physical altercations, he did care for her, after all. And he didn't like knowing she was going through such turmoil because she was bearing his child.

"If you wish it," he murmured after some time, "after this child is born, we won't have any more children—blood children, at least."

"I do wish it," she grumbled. She had tried to curl up into a small ball, but thanks to her stomach, it was impossible. "You can take on as many concubines as you like and have children with them if you ever want more blood children."

His brow rose. "I have no desire to take on any concubines. The only woman I want is you—and you already belong to me."

She suddenly shoved him away and got to her feet, as hard a task as it was. "I belong to no one," she snarled, snatching up the beaded headdress. "You least of all. Yes, I am your wife. Yes, I am bearing your child. But no, you do not own me and you never will." Putting the headdress on, she stormed towards the door of the tent.

Quietly growling, Mundzuc got up and darted after her. He caught her before she could leave, his hands gripping her arms. "Need I remind you of who commands the horde of Mongolian warriors out there?" he hissed beside her ear. "And need I remind you of who graciously kept your people safe and fed when you were being held prisoner? Or who gave you warning about my brothers?"

Zhu said nothing, glaring at the tent door.

"You can deny it all you want, Shan Zhu," he continued, "but I do own you. I've owned you since the moment you first whimpered my name in ecstasy."


Forty weeks into the journey

The air smelled heavily of plums and apricots.

Opening her eyes, Zhu found herself looking out over the Fa Family orchard. The sky was a cloudless blue and the air was the perfect temperature—warm, but not overbearingly so—and the tree she was reclining against was surprisingly comfortable. A contented sigh left her mouth as she let her eyes fall shut again. She shifted only to hear two different, incoherent grumbles of protest.

For the second time, Zhu opened her eyes and looked down. Stretched out in the grass beside her was Mulan, who was using her leg as a pillow. On her other side, Ling was curled up next to her and using her shoulder as his cushion. In his lap was Little Brother, who was sprawled out on his back with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

She remembered this scene—they had just spent half the day picking plums and apricots for market and decided to take a nap. She could remember watching them fall asleep and wishing so badly that she could bring them closer to her; that she could hold them close and never let go.

Slowly, she raised a hand. Her fingers brushed against Mulan's face, ever so gently pushing stray bits of hair back over her shoulder. Her skin was soft; far softer than Zhu could have guessed. A tender smile came to her lips as she let her palm cup Mulan's cheek. Mulan mumbled something in her sleep and snuggled closer to her.

Spirits, how she loved this woman.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

It took every ounce of willpower for her to not jump, she was so startled by Ling's voice. She looked at him, her cheeks darkening. "Wh-What was that?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet.

His eyes were half-open as he looked at Mulan. "Mulan. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Impossibly so."

Ling carefully reached over her, letting his long fingers slowly trace the curve of Mulan's jaw. "Who could have ever thought such a beautiful woman would have made for such a klutzy man?" he quietly chuckled. "In hindsight, it was so obvious."

"In hindsight, yes," she agreed, "but at the time, none of you could have imagined a woman willing to risk death in order to join the army."

"Let alone two women."

Her brow rose as she looked down at him. "My disguise was far more convincing, as I looked—and still look—more masculine than half the recruits."

He frowned. "You don't look at all masculine," he said. Pulling his hand away from Mulan's face, he pushed himself into more of a sitting position. "You're just as beautiful as Mulan."

"I am not the least bit pretty, let alone beautiful," she told him, voice dry. She was about to say something else, but she never got the chance.

Ling had leaned forward, silencing her with a kiss.

How long had she craved to know what his lips felt like against hers? She didn't know. Zhu only knew she couldn't stop herself from melting into the kiss. She sighed against his mouth as she felt his hand come to rest on the side of her face before sliding back. He ran his fingers through her hair, letting his hand come to rest on the back of her head.

"You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips. "You're so damned beautiful. Both of you. Gods, how did I get so lucky to be loved by you two?"

"I often ask myself that same question."

Ever so slightly opening her eyes, Zhu found that Mulan was now sitting up. Yet again, before she could say anything, she was quieted by a kiss. This time, however, it was Mulan who kissed her and she found herself overwhelmed by the smell of cherry blossoms and strawberries.

She gasped as Mulan wrapped both arms around her, pulling her away from the tree and closer to her. Ling snuck behind her, trailing kisses along her shoulder and up her neck. Nothing mattered more to her in that moment than finally being able to kiss and be kissed by Mulan and Ling. They kissed her mouth, along her jaw, along her neck; their hands roamed her body. She made no protest when one of them had started to untie the sash around her waist while the other slipped their hands under her shirt.

And then came the pain.

Zhu suddenly lurched forward, crying out as she gripped her stomach. Her entire pelvic region felt like it was on fire. Her spine felt like it was being ripped apart, one vertebra at a time. She had never felt pain like this before; she tried to look up at Mulan and Ling for help, but they were gone.

In their place was Mundzuc, a wicked grin on his lips. "Why would they be here for you?" he taunted. "They don't love you and they never will. You're nothing more than a Hun to them. You will never be anything more than a Hun to them."

Zhu woke up screaming.