Before we set out, I quietly watched as they buried the young woman— the one who had died for the second time—near the spring, where the soil was soft. They hadn’t dug deep; they didn’t have the time. Before I understood what was happening, Bürke handed over a few pieces of jewelry for the soldiers to bury with her.

The wind passed over the water, bending the grass with a mournful sigh.
It felt as if even nature itself was grieving her.

I couldn’t imagine what her family would feel once they realized her body was gone.
And now, because of me, she lay far from her home… far from the wind whose scent she knew… far from the faces she loved.

Beneath the vast silence of the steppe, under the shadow of a weathered black pine by the spring, she would rest forever.
Roots reaching the water, branches reaching the sky—
that tree would be her gravestone now.

I knew I should cry, but my heart felt as cold as a steppe night.
My mind still tried to convince me that everything was just a dream, a nightmare I would wake from. But it wasn’t.
When that soldier pointed the arrow at my heart, I understood—
all of this was painfully, terrifyingly real.

When the wagon jerked forward again, I hoped I’d left at least one threat behind. The wheels thudding against the ground eased my fear only slightly.
The soldier had suggested the general might be behind the attack, and somehow—despite my panic—I’d given him a logical explanation.
But the truth was simpler:
If I married, neither the Khan nor the Emperor would be pleased.
If I died before the wedding, the Altın Zırhlı General would be blamed.

Prenses Sayina was a symbol of balance between two empires.
And in her body… was me.

The journey lasted for hours. Dusty wind mixed with the horses’ hooves; the sun leaned westward. We ate dried meat to silence our hunger. Bürke sat across from me, dozing as her head bobbed forward.
I couldn’t relax even for a moment. My muscles were tight, my mind on alert.

There was a wedding I was expected to attend.
And I—who had just buried a young woman—was wearing her wedding dress.

At least Bürke had thought to bring another veil. I now saw the world through a thin layer of red silk.

The beaded crown on my head felt like it was stabbing into my skull. Every time I tried to remove it earlier, Bürke had stopped me—but now she was fast asleep.

I tore the veil and crown off and threw them beside me.
There would be many things I’d have to face… but I could endure them.
All I needed was to learn when the Blood Moon would rise again.

I prayed it would come soon.

When the foreign sun sank behind unfamiliar mountains, we kept moving. I didn’t know how much farther we had to go. With a proper carriage, maybe we would’ve arrived by now.

We stopped at the edge of a forest just before full darkness. The soldiers immediately began setting up camp. Bürke said we’d sleep in the wagon, but my body ached so badly that I felt if I didn’t move now, I’d never stand again.

I lifted the heavy fabric covering the wagon and stepped out. Two wooden steps had been placed for me. Gripping my skirts, I tried to steady my trembling legs. But the long journey and my numbed limbs betrayed me—I stumbled the moment I stepped down.

My arms flailed, searching for something to hold onto. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact—

—but instead of hitting the ground, a pair of strong arms caught me.

My eyes flew open and met the piercing gaze of the soldier who had once aimed an arrow at my heart. His hands gripped my waist, my feet dangling above the earth.

I couldn’t look away.
His eyes were brown, but around the edges—
a ring of green.
I didn’t know why, but that small detail consumed my thoughts.

He set me down abruptly and stepped back.

“Be careful, Princess,” he said, voice sharp. “It is my duty to ensure you don’t come to harm.”

I could tell I’d annoyed him.
I simply nodded.

“I want to walk a little,” I said. Hours without a real break weren’t doing my bladder any favors.

“I will accompany you,” he replied flatly. “You should not be alone in the forest.”

I studied him. Almond-shaped eyes. Thick eyelashes. Serious, unreadable expression. A face that looked like it had never smiled.
I wondered what he would look like without the helmet.

Annoyance prickled my skin.

“I won’t go far,” I said, the corner of my lips lifting in irritation. “I’ll be right back.”

He stepped forward, armor creaking.
“Why insist on being alone, Princess? Are you planning to escape?”

I glared. “No,” I said—then sighed and added bluntly,
“If you must know, I’m going to pee.”

The expression on his face was priceless—shock, then embarrassment, then forced stoicism.

“You did not have to say that,” he muttered.

I shrugged and walked away.
In this era, even relieving myself required strategy.

When I returned, night had settled fully. The sky was a blanket of cold stars. Soldiers sat around a fire, eating and talking. The warmth drew me closer like a moth.

Bürke approached with a steaming bowl.

“You must be hungry, Princess,” she said gently.

“Starving,” I admitted, taking the bowl.
We sat near the fire but far enough from the men. As I ate, I noticed the soldier who’d helped me earlier sitting alone, reading something—a pair of bamboo strips tied together.

What was he reading?

When I finished eating, I set the bowl aside. Bürke suddenly sucked in a breath.
“Princess… when did you get injured?”

I followed her gaze—there was a faint bloodstain near my waist.
Not mine.

My eyes moved to the soldier. Beneath his bracer, in the firelight, I saw a shadow—dark, spreading.

He was hurt.

“Bürke, bring me salve and bandages,” I said.
She hurried away.

Before she returned, I walked straight to him. He glanced up—surprised.

“Is something wrong, Princess?”

I shook my head and reached for his arm—
but he jerked it back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, flustered.

I exhaled sharply and took the ointment Bürke had brought.
“You’re injured,” I said, nodding at his wrist. “It should be treated.”

He frowned at the cut as if noticing it for the first time.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered. “It will heal on its own.”

I didn’t bother arguing.
I tugged at the laces of his bracer before he could react.
He stiffened.

“Princess, it is not appropriate for you to touch me,” he said, low and tense.

I ignored him.
The cut wasn’t deep, but the blood was fresh.
Without antibiotics, even this could be dangerous.

“How is this inappropriate?” I asked as I applied the salve gently. “I’m helping the man who helped me.”

He no longer pulled away. His eyes lifted to my face for a brief second, unreadable.

“The General will not be pleased,” he murmured.

I met his gaze steadily.

“If the General scolds me for helping his soldier,” I said coolly, “that only proves what a weak leader he is.”

The fire crackled.
He said nothing more.
And as I wrapped his wrist, the night felt a little less cold.