The grand hall of Tughril's palace was filled with bright firelight that night. The music sounded different from anything Xiao Zhi had heard before, soft and unfamiliar. The dancers moved with speed and grace, and each time they turned, their colorful skirts caught the lights and brightened the hall. Tables were packed with food and wine, so full that the wooden surface beneath was barely visible.
Xiao Zhi sat beside Kabil, her fiancé in name. He smiled and offered her a cup of wine. She accepted it politely but only held it, reminding herself not to drink too much. She couldn't afford to lose control again. Not here.
Across the hall, Ruhan stood beside the Great Khan. His posture was calm and respectful, nothing like the commanding presence he had carried in Hua. Here, he was just a servant. A eunuch. And yet, Xiao Zhi couldn't stop looking at him. There was something steady about him, something that didn't change no matter where he stood.
She sipped her drink, then looked back at Kabil. His movements were calm, kind, and unassuming. His smile lacked malice or the cold detachment she had expected from the so-called barbaric princes of Tughril. In the novel, Lin Rui had described him as frightening and ruthless. But the man sitting next to her now didn't match that description at all.
As the evening progressed, Xiao Zhi gradually relaxed, enjoying the music and dance. Kabil leaned in to explain some Tughril customs, and she listened with curiosity and amusement.
He leaned slightly toward her with a cup in hand. "These drinks are from our northern granaries, fermented from millet and barley, with a touch of honey. The harvest was generous this year. I hope you'll like it."
Xiao Zhi felt a flicker of awkwardness at how close he was. She took the cup, trying to steady her hands, and took a sip.
"It tastes nice."
It was different from the strong wine I had at the border city, though she didn't say that aloud, of course. Kabil didn't need to know how much she enjoyed her time before the palace.
"It's meant to go with the food," Kabil added.
She nodded. "It warms you, but it doesn't overpower everything else."
"That's why we drink it during festivals. Simple, but meaningful."
Xiao Zhi looked around the hall. The warmth of the drink made it easier to smile and to laugh. "Then I'll toast to Tughril," she said as she lifted her cup.
"To Tughril," he answered her gesture, "and to our beautiful guest from Hua."
Xiao Zhi took another sip. "And the dancers, they're amazing." She shifted her attention toward the dancers on the floor, avoiding the awkwardness that was starting to build around them.
Kabil's expression warmed. "Since childhood, these dancers have been trained to dance. Tughril believes music and dance are as important as sword and bow. It teaches discipline and patience."
She nodded in admiration.
"You see," Kabil continued, pointing to a dance step one dancer demonstrated, "it represents the harvest. Each movement honors the land and the people who tend it."
She tried to follow with her foot while sitting down, laughing when her awkward footwork stumbled. "I think I'm going to step on someone's toes."
Kabil chuckled. "Then you will honor them with a new story to tell."
Xiao Zhi laughed in return. They shared a moment of genuine amusement, a laugh she never would have expected to have in this so-called doomed land, with her so-called ruthless fiancé.
Ruhan's shadow flicked past the edge of her vision. She realized she had been watching him again.
She saw Ruhan whisper something in the Great Khan's ear, and then the man in the mask rose. The Khan's voice carried across the hall, deep and commanding. "The night is done. Rest, all of you, especially the princess. She has journeyed far, and her strength must be renewed." He glanced at Ruhan. "Take her to her quarters."
Ruhan approached Xiao Zhi quietly. His dark eyes softened slightly, but his air remained composed and controlled. He bowed deeply and gestured his hand for her to follow. She bowed to Kabil and the rest of the court before following Ruhan out of the hall.
The corridors were quiet, lit only by torchlight. The silence was a relief after the grand noise of the banquet.
"Did you enjoy the feast?" Ruhan asked.
"Yes," she replied. "I didn't expect Tughril palace to feel so… lively."
Ruhan's lips curved faintly. "It has its charms. And you have been the perfect guest."
Xiao Zhi chuckled lightly. "I hope I haven't offended anyone."
He shook his head. "No. You behaved admirably. Better than most courtiers here."
When they reached her chambers, Ruhan opened the door and gestured for her to enter. "Goodnight, Princess."
Xiao Zhi smiled and gave a tired nod.
As the door closed behind him, she sank onto the soft bed. Her body ached from the journey, but her mind lingered on the contrast of the evening.
The events of the night replayed in her mind. For the first time in days, she allowed herself a faint thread of hope, but it was tangled with uncertainty and confusion.
So yes, Tughril was completely different from what she had imagined. So yes, Kabil was the exact opposite of what the cruel, barbaric prince was supposed to be.
But what did it all mean then? Was the story she read shifted? Did she somehow change the story? But how?
It was too early to know. One day meant nothing. She couldn't let her guard down.
***
The palace fell silent as night deepened.
Ruhan walked alone through the corridor. The doors to the Khan's private chamber loomed ahead. Two guards stood at attention but stepped aside when they saw him.
He pushed the doors open.
The room was dim, lit only by a few candles. Scrolls and maps spread across a large desk. The Great Khan sat behind it, mask still in place, shoulders tense.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
As the door slowly closed behind him, Ruhan stepped forward. The Khan's hand stilled above the parchment. Slowly, he rose from his chair and crossed the short distance between them.
Ruhan stopped, his eyes steady, unreadable.
The Great Khan bowed deeply. The formal gesture broke the stillness of the room.
"Welcome back," the Khan said, his voice lower now, stripped of its earlier thunder. "Your Majesty."