Princess Mĕilì Xīng stared at the place on the floor where she woke up. It was still covered in blood and she couldn’t move forward. General Zhànshì entered behind her and saw immediately why she had stopped. He sat down on one of the seats beneath a window and pulled her to sit on the side of him away from the blood.

 “Don’t look, angel,” he told her as he wrapped his arm around her. “We’ll be at the manor shortly.”

 She sighed deeply and rested against his cold metal and leather armor. She was exhausted from everything that had transpired since the moment she awoke to her father’s angry yelling. She wanted to shut her eyes and sleep, but she was afraid of what new disaster she would awaken to.

 She pulled a strand of her wet hair over her shoulder and began to twirl it around her hand as she had done with the rabbit’s silk ears. There was so much about the day she wanted to forget, but there seemed to be a lot she wanted to remember.

 She had never seen so many people on her side in her entire life. After her mother died, the servants became more fearful of her father’s intolerance. Only her mother could stop his violent outbursts when they displeased him in some minor way. Only her mother could stop him from beating her as harshly as he wanted.

 The only servants brave enough to try to help her were tortured until they either left or died. It was always ruled “natural causes” by the physician her father paid well. The only maidservant left to truly care about her had been her mother’s, and she had to be careful with every move she made so her father would be none the wiser. Should the servant be caught spoiling her, they would have both been severely punished.

 This morning, it all changed. Like lightening, her life at her father’s hands had abruptly come to an end. She was finding this good fortune difficult to accept. Nothing ever happened for her benefit. When the bandit held her and whispered about her father’s commands, she was certain this was the fate she was waiting for and dreading.

 She didn’t know where the courage came from to do what she did, but it happened. Because it happened, this man beside her showed her more of the pity he had at her father’s manor. He cared for her like an injured child, and he now held her like he truly wanted her as his wife.

 Wife. She knew the man her father had planned to marry her to. She had been ordered to stand before him as he appraised her like livestock. Her hair wasn’t shiny enough, she was scrawny, her eyes were too dull, her skin was too dry, her fingernails were too dirty, her teeth were straight and clean but not white enough.

 The list seemed unending and after he left, her father beat her for not being good enough. Then he had the servants scrub her clean and make her ready for Shāngrén Yán’s next visit. By week’s end, she was glowing from the grooming and dressed in the most expensive robes she had ever seen, even on her mother.

 Shāngrén Yán returned and was so impressed, he offered to not only fund her father’s projects in perpetuity but also, pay an additional one thousand silver taels as a bonus. He only needed one guarantee that the official wouldn’t back out on his word.

 Her father allowed him to take her to a room to claim her body as his own. She had been so afraid that she threw up all over the merchant and herself before he could finish removing her clothes. Her stomach was unaccustomed to the food her father had forced her to eat that week to add weight. The anxiety of the situation pushed it back out.

 Shāngrén Yán was angry but didn’t back out of the deal. He simply demanded the marriage be moved up. If the general hadn’t arrived that morning, she would have been gone two days later.

 She wondered if her uncle knew. She couldn’t help but wonder if her uncle knew about any of the suffering she had endured. She wondered most of all if her uncle knew it was her father who caused her mother’s death.

 She sighed deeply and closed her eyes as she forced herself to move on from the bad memories and negative speculation. This man beside her had come for her in her darkest moments and offered to be her shield. It was her uncle’s command to take her, but it was by his own character that he behaved so warmly and compassionately toward her.

 She felt she was in the middle of a dream she’d never dared have before this day. She was afraid she would wake up and he would be gone, replaced by the merchant and her father’s strap. The thought made her shudder and she moved closer to the man keeping her safe. She held onto the strand of hair wrapped around her hand and clutched the edge of his sword belt with the other. 

 He watched her as he held her close. It kept her from being jostled around by the speeding carriage, but it, also, felt good to give her the care she needed and deserved. She was finally calm in his arms, and it did something to his mind and his heart.

 “You don’t have to call me General like everyone else,” he told her as he caressed her arm. “You can choose either of my names or both or whatever you’re comfortable with. You can simply call me ‘Husband,’ if you prefer.”

 She thought about his name and about their first meeting. He was angry and she thought it was toward her. When he looked at her father, she could see hatred in his glare. He remained calm and kept her father’s temper level so she could get out safely. The world may know him as Lieutenant Chéng described, but she saw his self-control and wisdom in whatever conflict he faced for her.

 “Ānníng,” she quietly replied, choosing the name that meant both security and peace.

 “All right, then,” he smiled. “May I call you Mĕilì?”

 She nodded and snuggled closer as the carriage rolled quickly to her new home.

 After a while of riding in silence, Mĕilì glanced over toward the bloodied floor. She cleared her throat of the bile rising up at the horrific memory and shut her eyes tightly.

 Ānníng felt her move closer against him and noticed her looking at the blood. He patted her arm.

 “You shouldn’t look,” he advised.

 “I killed someone,” she whispered.

 She sniffed and tried to stop her bottom lip from trembling. He caressed her arm and gave her a gently squeeze.

 “You had no choice,” he replied. “No one would ever blame you for what you did, especially the families of the men you saved.”

 She sighed deeply and tried to accept his words of encouragement.

 “No one has ever said I did the right thing,” she said softly. “Maybe my mother but I don’t remember much. Too many bad things have made me forget how happy I was with her.”

 He hugged her when he felt her body shake from silent crying.

 “You’ll have plenty of time to remember the good things now that you’re safe,” he said.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

 “For what?” he wondered curiously.

 “My uncle finally found a way to save me, but you had to sacrifice having a real wife,” she tearfully answered.

 He shook his head at her words. “What makes you think you’re not a real wife?”

 She stayed still for a moment, unsure of how to answer. She didn’t want to upset him or make him angry. She was certain by now that he wasn’t like her father, but annoying him could result in any number of bad outcomes for her.

 Alone in his village with only people who served and respected him meant she would be completely at his mercy. Regardless of how wonderful he was beginning to seem, her situation could change at any moment. She felt good being in his arms, anyone’s compassionate embrace, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would last forever. A lifetime of random abuse and unfulfilled wishes taught her that.

 “Is it because it was a royal decree?” he asked.

 She quietly nodded and once again began twisting her hair around her hand.

 He smiled as he recalled his meeting with the king. “I met with King Rénlóng the day before I arrived at your father’s manor. He explained your situation and how he wanted to take you from there many times.”

 She straightened in her seat at his surprising words. She never knew her uncle had seriously considered it and so often. She looked up at him as he continued to talk. His hand slid down her back when she sat up, and she liked the feel of it holding her protectively around her waist.

 “I’m almost positive you don’t know about the questionable business dealings of your father,” he said, relieved she was no longer nervous around him or his touch. When she shook her head, he continued. “Everything the king could have done to remove you would have resulted in something disastrous caused by Minister Sōngshù. He, also, feared you would suffer from the attempts as retaliation.”

 Ānníng looked through the curtain to see the gates to the village drawing near.

 “I grew up playing with your uncle,” he revealed to her surprise. “Your mother, also, although she was more like a bothersome older sister,” he chuckled at the fond memories. “The men in my family have served the king’s family for decades, so I stayed at the palace for much of my childhood.

 Jūn was older than me but hadn’t yet taken the throne. He was lonely, probably as lonely as me. He taught me weiqi and painting and let me fish in the pond that even he wasn’t allowed to fish from,” he grinned. “We were friends and have remained so after he became king.

 He could have made the marriage an order, and he was desperate enough to do so for your sake. He didn’t have to. I agreed of my own free will.”

 He wiped away a tear from her cheek as it fell. “I had no previous plans to marry, and you needed a way to escape. It only made sense to take you in.

 If you’re worried about something else, don’t. You’ve been through enough. I’m content with only providing you a safe haven with anything you need to become healthy and happy.”

 Mĕilì leaned forward against his armor and cried in her hands. He was so different from her father and Shāngrén Yán and all of the other men who would visit their manor late in the evening.

 “We’re here, General,” they heard Lieutenant Chéng say from outside.

 It was then that they began to hear voices becoming louder the closer the carriage brought them to the gate.

 “It won’t be as busy as the capital,” Ānníng told her, remembering how afraid she was traveling through the capital market.

 She covered her ears, anyway.

 Ānníng pulled the curtain and looked up at Lieutenant Chéng riding his horse beside them.

 “As soon as we reach the manor, I need you to go in and find something for her to wear,” he called out to him.

 “Yes, Zhàn,” the lieutenant replied. “How is she?”

 Mĕilì had removed her hands to hear what her husband was telling the soldier. When Lieutenant Chéng asked about her, she leaned forward and gave him a small smile.

 Lieutenant Chéng returned her smile and reached into his robe pocket beneath his armor. Her eyes lit up when she knew what he was after. He laughed at her reaction and handed the piece of candy to Ānníng.

 “For her, not you,” he explained with a chuckle as he nodded to the princess.

 Ānníng took the candy and watched her smile as she unwrapped it. He laughed at the joy the simple treat elicited from the young traumatized princess.

 “Is this how you found out about the rabbit?” he asked Lieutenant Chéng. When the lieutenant nodded, he grinned. “Nice work, Chéng,” he said quietly.

 A call from the front of their caravan brought their attention back to the gate.

 “I’ll make certain we pass through uninterrupted,” Chéng told Ānníng and kicked his horse to speak to the gate guards.

 “Almost home, angel,” Ānníng told her as he pulled her close. “If you want to cover your ears, I’ll let you know when we arrive.”

 Mĕilì began to do so but then stopped. She looked up at him and lowered her hands again.

 “I’m all right,” she said softly. “I know I’m safe.”

 He took a deep breath and smiled at her words. He nodded and held her all the way to his manor.