Wufei Chang took care of his horse before entering the castle. The cook, a large intimidating woman, fussed at him as he went through and grabbed a roll off those just prepared for dinner when the ambassador was to come, but he got out of it by swirling her around and landing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. "I'll just eat one less at dinner," he told her, and she sighed, smiling and shaking her head at him as he went up to his room by the back stairs. At least he wasn't all sweaty this time.

Wufei finished the roll and passed his brother's room as the door opened. His older brother, Mao, came out in his formal wear, an impressive broad figure, having taken after their father while Wufei took more after their slender mother, and made a disgusted noise at the younger Chang. "The ambassador is here," he told Wufei, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. "She has to rest from traveling, but you better be on time for dinner or father will be furious."

"She?" Wufei turned back, looking at his brother in surprise. The lovely stranger flashed into his mind, but he quickly dismissed the thought. /That/ woman would never be able to hold her temper long enough to negotiate peaceful relations with another country.

His brother grinned. "Yeah, and I saw her coming in. Rather good-looking for a foreigner." Wufei snorted, then, playfully flipping his brother's nose, turned and went to wash the little sweat he'd acquired while riding off. His fight with the woman hadn't even made him perspire.

Opening his room door and remembering her last words, he chuckled in amusement again, tossing his shirt onto the bed.

"Your majesty," his manservant picked up the discarded shirt to take it to the washing women. Wufei turned and examined his manservant. Elk was a spindly creature, furtive and nervous, darting about doing what he was told with a beaten air.

Living under my father, Wufei thought, would do that to anyone.

"Go," he said out loud, going to the bath that had been drawn for him. He needed to clean up, and having Elk watch him bathe was just creepy.

Wufei cursed as he ran to the dining hall. With luck, he would arrive before the ambassador and avoid his father's anger.

"Hurry, you can make it," the cook called as he darted by, receiving a wave and a sudden burst of speed in response. It was hard to run in the stifling dark silks, but his mother demanded proper protocol, and Wufei let his arms take the impact on the doors as he pushed the heavy golden things open, noting the spiraling golden dragon engraved upon them vaguely as he glanced around and noted the glare his parents were sending him as one.

"It's about time," his father muttered, and his mother quickly adjusted the collar on his silks, her lips pressed into the thin line that meant she was harried.

Wufei only offered her a roguish wink before she turned to the opening doors, shaking her head in amusement at her silly son (who would be the death of her yet, scaring her like that) and straightening her skirts as the ambassador entered. Her first thoughts were of what a charming young woman the ambassador was, as she walked up to them in a pace neither too rushed nor too slow and curtseyed deeply. Mrs. Chang bowed in return along with her sons, her husband the king only nodding his head, and noted how both Mao /and/ Wufei looked rather affected by this woman. Mao was certainly thinking of what a lovely, vital young woman she was, and Wufei . . . he just looked stunned. Mrs. Chang resisted the urge for a motherly chuckle. What young man would not be with such a beautiful girl before them? She was very happy, because she had been very discontent lately about her younger son's disinterest in women. He needed a nice girl . . .

Sally . . . Po, Mrs. Chang recalled, and smiled graciously at the young woman in the pale blue silk gown, the color heightening that of her eyes splendidly. The girl's hair was honey, and her skin fresh milk. How perfectly lovely, she thought again as her husband took her arm, and Mao offered the young woman his to escort her to dinner. She accepted graciously, but Mrs. Chang caught the wide-eyed glance back at her younger son, and mentally noted it.

Wufei wondered if she could tell how shocked he was. Probably not. She knew he was shocked, but he had been trained to hide his emotions well, and surely could not know the extent of his situation. He was sure his mother noted his reaction to Sally, though, and was now plotting something evilly romantic in that dark-crowned head of hers, but he also wondered what the pale ambassador would think if she knew what he was thinking of at the moment. How that he had dawdled too long in his bath because of thoughts of her, daydreams of that fire that had burned within her eyes when she challenged him earlier that day.

But now she seemed completely docile, languid even, and the only signs of her earlier animation showed in those same sky-blue eyes, where, if he looked long enough, were flashes of interest, thought, and a political intelligence he did not think many women possessed. Anyone simply glancing at her talks with his father would think her dull, but on further inspection would catch sight of the furious mental processes burning through her mind, behind the soft exterior.

"Dear," Wufei jumped at his mother's soft voice and light touch on his hand and realized he had been brooding darkly at a tapestry across from him, taking only occasional sips from the wineglass he swirled in one slender hand and ignoring his food.

Wufei let out his breath softly, giving her a wan smile to show everything was alright. "Sorry Mother." He sipped at his soup absently to give the impression that he actually had an appetite, and noted his father looking at him.

"What's wrong with you?" the large man asked bluntly, dark brows drawn together. Wufei was uncomfortable under the scrutiny but did not show it. After a moment: "Did that meeting you had with Councilor Yang go well?" the dark eyes continued to probe, and Wufei understood what his father was concerned about. He had done something very different than meet with Councilor Yang the other day and his father knew it. He was asking if the job had been done well, and if anyone suspected that the oldest member of the Council – and similarly the one who opposed his father the most – had not died of natural causes.

"No, everything was fine. Perfect." He sipped at his soup again, concentrating on his food so that he did not have to meet anyone's eyes, and added blandly that he was only concerned about a slight limp his favorite horse had developed. His father nodded after a moment, turning back to the ambassador.

"We were thinking of having a party for your arrival, ambassador," he heard his mother saying a little later. He had managed to tune out the political conversations, but was not able to ignore how his brother glanced every so often with fawning eyes at the lovely ambassador. For some reason he did not like this. "And if you did not bring appropriate wear," his mother was continuing, "I know I have something that would do." Wufei snorted ungentlemanly as he shot a look at her blue gown – so odd for his country – and earned a glare from everyone at the table. He only murmured an apology, still smiling faintly. The look she had given him was worth the indelicacy. Indignance, anger, and a bit of a self-conscious blush warming her cheeks. He'd waited all night for her to look like that again and confirm that she /was/ the woman he had encountered earlier, and that she had not been some phantom.

"Forgive my son," Mrs. Chang apologized to the flushing ambassador. How was she ever going to get him a wife if he treated females so atrociously? "He can be an idiot sometimes." She shot Wufei another glare, one that promised something for after dinner, and was relieved to see her son buttering a piece of bread meekly and the young woman relaxing slightly.

"Who knew that the annoying little thing I met earlier would be the ambassador?" Sally heard the chuckle behind her, but refused to acknowledge the words and continued to hold her head high, only pulling her robe tighter about her nightgown-clad form in response to the prince's presence. He gazed out over the manicured lake, standing behind the white stone bench she sat on, and smiled slightly at the moon reflecting upon calm surface. "Trust you to find /another/ of my favorite haunts," he murmured, placing his hands gently on each of her shoulders and massaging the tense muscles there.

She moved out from under his hands and walked over to a small pavilion, hoping he had not noticed how the small shoulder-rub had affected her. He was very good with his hands. Better than she would have liked to admit, though Sally would bet he could make a killing in massage therapy.

"I've upset you," he sounded more interested than contrite, and moved up beside her. She pulled the robe tighter, disconcerted, and he reached to brush a wisp of hair away from her ear.

Sally exploded, jumping back and slamming his hand away, every fierce emotion she had had to restrain since entering the palace coming through in her eyes, shattering the thin layer of self-control she had held over them like a drowning man through flimsy ice. They held the position a moment, back of her hand holding his away, the other slender pale fingers grasping what was left of her dignity as she held the robe closed, eyes burning into his like chips of hot ice, and him staring back, entrapped in the intensity of her gaze.

"I was wondering when you were going to stop all that 'sweet little ambassador' crap," he murmured, and Sally's eyes narrowed. Wufei looked at her secretively and whispered, "I like you much better this way."

She took her hand away, eyes never leaving his or dimming in their fierceness for a moment, before she turned silently and walked back to the castle.

He didn't bother to follow her.