I stepped into the tent, forcing myself to suppress the whirlpool of unease twisting in my chest.

The moment I crossed the threshold, a sour smell hit me in the face — like milk left out in the sun for days. My stomach lurched, but I took shallow breaths through my mouth, fighting the urge to gag. The air was thick and heavy, as if the scent itself wanted to suffocate me.

Kağan Karaçay sat cross-legged on the raised cushions, his broad frame looming in the dim light. A bronze goblet glimmered in one hand, while the other gripped the waist of a young servant girl pouring his drink. Her hands trembled, her face tight with fear. In Kağan’s eyes, there was both lust and cruelty — the kind that made my skin crawl.

A chill ran down my spine. For a moment, I thought about running. But before I could move, Kağan’s low, gravelly voice filled the tent.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”

His words came out thick with drink, like a growl rolling through his throat. The servant startled at the sound, her trembling hand tipping the jug. The liquor overflowed, spilling onto Kağan’s hand. Her face turned as pale as bone.

I froze as Kağan’s expression darkened. The corner of his mouth curved into a cruel smirk. Without hesitation, his hand came down hard on her.
The sound echoed inside the tent.

The woman’s eyes shimmered with tears, but she made no sound. Her lips trembled as she bowed her head. Kağan’s gaze held no mercy—only the savage pleasure of a man who enjoyed his power too much.

My breath caught. Being near him felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. One wrong word, one misplaced breath, and it would all be over.

Kağan threw his goblet aside, splashing liquor across my robes. The chill seeped into my skin, but I didn’t move.

“I warned you,” he snarled at the girl, his voice a growl that made the tent walls tremble. “You’ll pay for every mistake.”

The servant dropped to her knees, trembling. Kağan merely watched her, amused, as if her fear was a form of entertainment. When she finally stumbled out, silence fell between us.

He stroked his beard slowly, his eyes now fixed on me.
“Princess Sayina,” he said, his tone heavy and deliberate. “My brother’s bloodline. You will do what is required. You survived that night—so you’ll fulfill your promise.”

His voice wasn’t a command; it was a sentence. The faint smile that followed was colder than steel. In that moment, he looked less like a ruler and more like a predator.

I steadied my breath. “I will go,” I said, keeping my tone even. Every word felt dangerous, like walking barefoot over glass.

Kağan smiled, but it was the kind of smile that warned of storms. “My scouts returned just now. The General’s men will reach the camp at sunrise. You’ll leave with them.”

My heart jolted. “That’s… much sooner than expected.”

His expression hardened, and the tent seemed to shrink under his glare.
“You’ll do as I say,” he growled. “You accepted the marriage. You’ll honor every word of it.”

The weight of his voice pressed down on me, suffocating. My stomach twisted; bile rose in my throat. I forced myself to nod. “I will.”

His lips curved again—mocking, poisonous. “A pity for the General,” he murmured.

I bit my tongue. Asking why would be a mistake.

Kağan rose slowly. Up close, I realized he wasn’t much taller than me, yet he radiated a terrifying power, as if he could tear the earth apart with his bare hands.
“Don’t forget what I said,” he warned. “If you do, I’ll carve it into your bones myself.”

I nodded once and hurried out.

Night had fallen. The cold bit into my skin as I stepped into the open air. Somewhere in the distance, a scream split the silence—a woman’s cry, maybe a child’s. Each echo dug deeper into my chest.

By the time I reached my tent, I didn’t remember the path I’d taken.

Inside, Bürke knelt by the small fire, stirring the embers. When she looked up and saw me, her eyes widened with fear.
“Princess! Are you all right?” she cried, rushing toward me. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Her voice sounded distant, muffled—as if I were still trapped under Kağan’s gaze.

I tried to speak, but my throat tightened. My lips parted, yet no sound came out. The fire flickered, and Kağan’s words echoed in my mind:
If you forget, I’ll carve it into your bones.

My hands trembled. I clutched my cloak tightly around me. Tears blurred my vision. The warmth of the fire couldn’t reach me.

When Bürke’s hesitant arms wrapped around me, something inside me broke. A sob tore from my chest, raw and uncontrollable. I pressed my fists to my mouth, trying to silence myself—but it was useless.

I cried, not because I was weak, but because I finally understood how cruel this world truly was.
Because I didn’t belong here.
Because no one would save me.

And through the blur of tears, I remembered the woman from my dreams—the one who whispered only one thing:
“I want to live.”

Now I understood.

I wanted to live, too.