The silence fell once again. The only sound was the low hiss of the water as the steam curled around them like a thick cloud. Even with the stone between them, Ruhan could feel her close, as if the space didn't exist.
Her breathing was steady now. Calmer. It should have eased him. Instead, it only made him more aware of everything he was trying not to feel.
"Your injuries."
The words left him before he had fully decided to speak. Concern slipped through despite his effort to keep his voice even. "How are they?"
He heard her shift in the water, the faint ripple as she seemed to check her arms.
"They're… bearable," she said softly. "The ointment you sent, it helped a lot."
His jaw tightened.
Then she added, lightly, almost joking, "It's almost gone, by the way. I might need a new one soon."
A third jar.
Ruhan felt a sting in his chest. Another jar gone. He had sent each one, hoping it would be the last. That she would no longer need them. Instead, she had used them all.
Which meant the pain had been frequent. Ongoing.
He wanted to say he was sorry, to speak aloud the guilt and anguish twisting in his chest, but he swallowed it. He could not.
"I… I will send you a new one soon." The promise felt hollow. He wished there would be no more need for it. Wished medicine would stop being the only thing he could offer her.
"No rush," she said quietly. "Actually, it has become less frequent now." She paused. "The pills… they've helped. They lessened the torture."
Ruhan allowed himself a small, almost invisible exhale.
Good. At least that part is working.
A small curiosity flickered in her tone. "Those pills," she asked hesitantly, "they were from you, weren't they?"
Ruhan did not answer at once. His fingers flexed in the water. To admit it was from him would be to draw closer than he could afford. He had resolved to stay distant for two weeks. Proximity now was a danger to both of them. Yet lying outright felt… wrong.
He chose a careful half-truth. "Yes… I mean, the Khan asked me to give them to you."
"The Khan?" She sounded in disbelief. "He… he did this? For me?"
"Yes." He kept his tone steady. "Quietly, he… monitors what happens in the palace."
"I never imagined that," she murmured. "The Khan helping anyone. Isn't he supposed to be vicious and cruel?"
Ruhan stared at the steam, his mind racing. He knew he should probably just keep his mouth shut. Letting her believe the horror stories was the safe bet. But somehow his heart told him otherwise.
"Actually, the Khan... he isn't the monster everyone believes."
She turned slightly, the water rippling around her. "Then what is he? Because the stories I've heard don't involve much mercy."
Ruhan let out a short, dry breath, almost a laugh. He leaned his head back against the cold stone.
"The Khan you see is not who he truly is. What he shows the court is a mask. Figuratively and literally. Cruelty is safer than kindness in this palace."
Ruhan's eyes fixed on the water as he began to tell his story.
"He was born into a complicated situation. His mother was from Hua. She was a dancer, trained to entertain nobles and gather information. The previous Khan met her during a mission and fell deeply in love with her."
He spoke slowly, choosing each word with care.
"The Khan already had a wife, the Khatun. Their marriage was arranged by her father, the Chancellor. For the Khan, it was necessary to secure the throne. There was no affection. Only power."
He felt the weight of the story as he continued
"When the dancer came to Tughril, everything changed. She became the Khan's favorite. He loved her openly and ignored the Khatun, even when she was pregnant."
Lian Zhi's fingers curled beneath the water.
"Kabil was born first. Not long after, the dancer gave birth to Kazrail."
The name slipped out before he could stop it.
"So his name is Kazrail."
"Yes."
The way she said it stirred something in him. He had forgotten how rare it was to hear that name without fear or hatred attached.
"They grew up together, trained together, and educated together. But Kazrail was different. His blood was questioned. His mother was mocked. Servants whispered. Noble children bullied him for being half-Hua and born without status."
A quiet, humorless sound escaped her. "The treatment seemed familiar," she commented.
"But the Khan favored him. He saw Kazrail's kind heart, discipline, and restraint. That only made things worse," he continued.
"One night, when Kazrail was still a child, Kabil set fire to his chambers."
Ruhan's jaw tightened.
"Kazrail's mother ran into the flames and pulled him out herself. She saved him," Ruhan paused, "Unfortunately… she didn't survive."
His breath caught, just slightly.
"The Khan nearly killed Kabil in his rage. Only the Khatun's pleas and the Chancellor's power stopped him. He couldn't execute his son."
The water around them went completely still.
"So he stripped him of the crown prince title instead."
Lian Zhi's voice came softly, almost to herself. "Loving someone like that… and still losing them. Still being unable to protect them."
Ruhan felt the weight of her understanding settle between them.
"The Khan knew Kazrail wouldn't survive the court as he was. So he sent him away. Far away in the mountains. To be trained. To be hardened."
He lifted a hand, tracing the edge of the mask he wasn't wearing.
"Kazrail's face was badly burned in the fire. The mask began as protection, from pity, from whispers."
"So he hid the wound," she said quietly. "And let the world fear the mask instead."
Ruhan didn't correct her.
"It became armor," he said. "When Kazrail returned, the Khan was already ill… poisoned slowly. Before he died, the Khan named Kazrail as heir. The Chancellor was furious, but too many ministers witnessed the decree. The Khan died soon after."
Silence followed.
"And so Kazrail became Khan," Ruhan finished. "Surrounded by enemies. Wearing a mask. Ruling through fear, because mercy would have killed him."
Ruhan listened to her breathing on the other side of the stone. It had changed. Slower. Thoughtful.
That silence told him more than words could.
She understood.
Not everything, but enough. Enough to stop seeing the Khan as a monster waiting to destroy her. Enough to sense that beneath the mask was another prisoner of the palace, bound by the same walls she was.
The realization sat uneasily in his chest.
Had he just done something even more foolish? softening the image of the Khan in her eyes, when distance had been the only safe choice?
After a while, Lian Zhi sighed. "I should go. If I stay too long… it'll cause trouble."
"Of course." Ruhan agreed without hesitation. Staying any longer would only tempt him into doing something even more reckless.
She rose carefully along the edge of the pool. The side where she stepped was close enough for Ruhan to see her clearly through the mist.
Then her foot slipped.
Ruhan reacted instantly, closing the distance in a single step. His hands caught her at the waist, steadying her as water splashed around them, droplets clinging to their skin.
"Careful," he murmured, his chest brushing hers. The heat of him pressed through the cool night air.
She gripped his bare arm instinctively. For a moment, they simply stayed like that. Too close, too aware. Words were unnecessary. The tension between them said everything.
Ruhan's eyes lingered on her face, noting the faint blush and tremor in her hands. He wanted to look away, to maintain distance, but couldn't.
His hand tightened slightly at her waist. He met her gaze through the mist. The boundaries they had maintained seemed meaningless.
Her lips parted. His breath came faster.
Their faces were inches apart.
And then, slowly, carefully… he leaned in.