The warning horn ripped through the night like a blade, sending shockwaves across the entire aul. Children were pulled into yurts, dogs barked wildly, warriors jumped onto horses, and flames from torches cast trembling shadows on the felt walls.
Ayisulu felt her breath catch — not from fear, but from recognition. This was the moment she had seen in her dream. The riders, the fire, the panic. And Arslan… Arslan in danger.
Before she could speak, the prince stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body as naturally as breathing.
"Ayisulu, stay close."
Kanykei made a strangled noise. "He always says that FIRST."
Temir grabbed a pot lid as if it were a sacred shield. Kereg knocked it out of his hands with disgust and shoved a spear at him instead.
Out of the darkness, ten masked riders appeared, their horses cutting through the night like shadows come alive. One hurled a flaming torch toward a yurt. Ayisulu didn't think — she grabbed the nearest tuyak, splashed its contents at the fire, and smothered it before it could spread. Everyone stared. Temir whispered reverently, "She fights with fermented horse milk…"
Arslan shot Ayisulu a look — startled, impressed, fiercely proud. "Good," he said. "Be ready."
The raiders charged. Arslan moved with the precision of a warrior prince, sword gleaming, voice firm and commanding. He ordered the aul's men to form a line, protect the elders, safeguard the children. Ayisulu had never seen him like this — sharp, powerful, utterly focused. It made something inside her twist.
One rider lunged for Temir. Ayisulu felt something tug deep in her chest — her gift, her instincts, the steppe whispering to her again. She didn't hesitate. "Temir, RIGHT!" she shouted. Temir jumped, somehow avoided getting trampled, and the rider instead collided headfirst into a feeding trough. Temir celebrated by hugging his pot lid. "Ayisulu is magical! Confirmed!"
Arslan turned sharply at her voice. "You knew he'd dodge in time," he said, breath heavy, eyes intense. Ayisulu swallowed. "I… felt it." He nodded, expression softening with something dangerously close to admiration. "Then trust that feeling."
Before she could respond, two raiders dismounted and ran straight toward her, ropes in hand.
"She's the one!" one hissed. "The girl who sees!"
Ayisulu froze.
Arslan did not.
He was beside her in a heartbeat, dragging her behind him so abruptly she collided with his chest. His voice dropped to a tone she had never heard — low, deadly. "Touch her, and you won't leave this steppe alive."
The raiders attacked together. Arslan pushed Ayisulu back against the curve of a yurt, shielding her body with his as if he were made entirely of instinct. "Stay behind me," he said, breath uneven.
"I can help!" Ayisulu protested.
"You already did," he answered, not looking back. "Let me do my part."
Her heart pounded so hard she barely heard the clash of steel. The first rope missed. The second wrapped around her arm before she could react — but Arslan seized it, yanked the rider so forcefully he stumbled forward, straight into Arslan's fist.
Ayisulu hadn't even realized she was clutching Arslan's sleeve until he leaned close, voice barely a whisper. "Don't be afraid."
"I'm not," she whispered back.
"Good," he said. "Because I won't let you out of my sight."
There were too many emotions in those few words. She couldn't breathe.
A rider circled behind Arslan, ready to strike. Ayisulu saw it — not with her eyes, but with the same gift that had been stirring awake for weeks. She snatched a wooden ladle from a pot and hurled it with surprising accuracy. It smacked the rider directly on the knuckles. He yelped.
Arslan turned, saw the falling enemy, then looked at Ayisulu. He smiled — a slow, fierce, impossibly warm smile. "Good throw."
Ayisulu flushed. "It was a ladle."
"A dangerous one," Arslan said without missing a beat.
Temir whispered, "They are literally flirting in the middle of a battle."
Kanykei groaned. "Someone please knock me unconscious."
Within minutes, the raiders retreated. As quickly as they came, they vanished into the dark steppe, leaving behind broken ropes, trampled grass, and a tense silence.
"They weren't ordinary bandits," Kereg said, wiping his blade.
"They were after her," Kanykei stated bluntly.
Every gaze followed. Ayisulu tensed, heart sinking. She hated this. She didn't want danger to follow her. She didn't want people hurt because of her.
But Arslan stepped forward immediately, placing himself between her and everyone else again — though now there was no sword in his hand, only quiet determination.
"She will not be harmed," he said.
Temir nodded vigorously. "Anyone who tries will deal with ALL of us!"
Bair slapped a hand over his heart. "I shall compose poetry about our heroic defense!"
Kereg muttered, "I beg you not to."
Ayisulu looked down, overwhelmed. Then she felt Arslan's hand gently touch her sleeve — steady, warm, grounding.
"Ayisulu," he said softly, "whoever they are… they fear you."
She blinked. "Fear me?"
"They wanted you captured," he murmured. "Not killed. That means your gift threatens someone. Someone powerful."
Ayisulu shivered.
Arslan's hand slid down to her wrist — a gesture more intimate than anything he'd done all night, even though he pretended it was just reassurance.
"We'll find out who," he said. "And when we do… you won't face them alone."
Her breath caught.
Kanykei muttered, "I hate how romantic that sounded."
Temir sniffled. "I think I'm emotional."
Bair sighed dreamily. "Love in the time of night raids…"
Kereg rolled his eyes. "Enough."
But Ayisulu barely heard them.
Arslan hadn't let go of her wrist.
And she wasn't pulling away.