For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
The wind tugged at cloaks and horse manes, stirring dust between the three of them: Ayisulu, Arslan, and the stranger standing on the ridge.
"Ayisulu," he said again, breathless with relief. "It really is you."
Up close, he was lean and sun-browned, with sharp cheekbones and tired eyes that still somehow managed to look annoyingly bright. His hair was tied with a strip of red cloth, frayed from long travel. He looked like the steppe itself had been chewing on him for a while and spat him out in front of them.
Ayisulu swallowed.
"…Erlan?"
Behind them, Temir made a sound like a dying flute.
Kanykei didn't look surprised at all. "Of course his name is Erlan," she muttered. "It's always an Erlan."
Arslan slowly stood up, moving Ayisulu gently but very firmly behind him with one hand. The motion was protective, subtle, and about as casual as a drawn sword.
"Who," he said, voice like cooled steel, "is Erlan?"
Erlan blinked, just now registering Arslan's existence.
"And you are…?"
Temir inhaled dramatically. "Oh no."
Kereg murmured, "This will end poorly."
Ayisulu stepped out from behind Arslan before bloodshed could happen.
"Arslan, this is Erlan," she said quickly. "We… grew up near the same aul. He's—"
"—nobody important," Arslan cut in.
Erlan raised both eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
Temir quietly backed away from the blast radius.
Ayisulu rubbed her temples. "He's my childhood friend."
Erlan's face softened when he looked at her again. "Friend," he echoed. "You disappeared. One day you were just… gone. I've been looking for you ever since."
Arslan's jaw clenched so hard Temir winced on his behalf.
Kanykei folded her arms. "So. Childhood friend. Years-long search. Dramatic entrance. No, this isn't emotional at all."
Ayisulu shot her a look that begged for mercy.
Kanykei only smiled sweetly.
---
Erlan slid down the slope and approached, taking in the scene: the scattered hoofprints, broken arrows, the dust of recent battle still hanging in the air.
"You were attacked," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Arslan replied curtly. "By the Falcon's scouts. Again. Who exactly are you to her?"
Erlan held Arslan's gaze, a hint of challenge in his smile.
"I told you. Childhood friend." He turned back to Ayisulu, expression softening. "We used to race horses. You always cheated."
"I did not cheat," Ayisulu protested automatically. "You just picked slow horses."
Temir whispered to Bair, "She's laughing. With him. Arslan's going to explode."
Bair scribbled something in his notebook. "The prince, standing like a thundercloud, watching the past walk up and say hello…"
Kereg sighed. "Stop narrating real life."
Arslan stepped half a pace closer to Ayisulu—barely noticeable, unless you were watching him as closely as everybody currently was.
"And what brings you here, Erlan, the childhood friend?" Arslan asked. "Coincidence?"
"No," Erlan said simply. "I was following the Falcon's trail."
That got everyone's attention at once.
Kanykei narrowed her eyes. "Following as in… working with, or hunting?"
"Hunting," Erlan said. "Obviously."
"Not obvious," Arslan replied.
Erlan glanced at him. "You don't trust easily, do you?"
"No," Arslan said. "I don't."
"Good," Erlan said. "You'll live longer."
Temir whispered, "I like him."
Kanykei whispered back, "You like chaos."
"Same thing."
---
They moved to a patch of flatter ground where the horses could rest. Someone thrust a water skin into Erlan's hand. He drank deeply, then sat down without ceremony, as if he'd been part of the group for weeks instead of minutes.
Ayisulu sat across from him, still a little dazed.
"You really were looking for me?" she asked quietly.
Erlan's expression turned serious. "My mother kept saying, 'That girl will not stay in the aul. The wind will steal her one day.' Then you vanished, and everyone acted like it was normal that a girl disappeared into the world alone."
He shook his head. "It wasn't normal to me."
Ayisulu looked down, fingers curling in her cloak. She hadn't thought about how it had looked from the outside. Her life had just… split. Before. After.
Arslan stood nearby, arms folded, saying nothing. Watching everything.
Erlan continued, "A few years ago, travelers came through. Said there were rumors of a girl who saw things before they happened. Who saved caravans from storms. Who kept important men from dying stupid deaths." His eyes flicked briefly to Arslan.
"And you assumed it was me?" Ayisulu asked.
Erlan smiled faintly. "You always did know when the storms were coming."
Temir lit up. "See? Even as a kid she was terrifyingly competent."
"Thank you, Temir," Ayisulu said dryly.
"You're welcome," he said, 100% sincere.
---
Arslan finally spoke.
"You said you were following the Falcon's trail. How close?"
"Close enough to see his men," Erlan replied. "Not close enough to be seen twice. He's careful. Paranoid. But his attention has turned north lately. Toward… you." His gaze landed on Ayisulu again.
Arslan's hands tightened.
Kanykei watched him with interest. "Your Highness, you're grinding your teeth."
"No, I'm not," Arslan said through his teeth.
Erlan went on. "The Falcon wants a dream-walker. Someone who sees the shape of things before they happen. Someone from a particular bloodline."
Ayisulu's stomach dropped. "My bloodline."
Erlan nodded.
Arslan stepped closer again. "How do you know that?"
Erlan didn't flinch. "Because my uncle served in the same war band as the Falcon. Before he became… whatever he is now. He heard the man speak about it. I've been tracking those rumors ever since."
"So you came to warn her?" Arslan asked.
"To find her," Erlan corrected. "And then warn her."
Temir's whisper carried far too well. "He came for her. That's so romantic."
Kanykei replied, "You know the prince is right there, yes?"
"I know," Temir breathed. "That's what makes it interesting."
Kereg muttered something about accidentally losing Temir in a ravine.
---
Ayisulu looked between Erlan and Arslan, her chest tight.
"Erlan… why would the Falcon care about my family?"
Erlan's expression shifted — a flash of hesitation, of something like guilt.
"Because your grandmother's name is Ulpan," he said quietly. "And she was known among the old ones as a kórgen."
Ayisulu froze.
Ulpan.
Her grandmother's sharp eyes, rough hands, and strange murmured sayings flickered through her memory. The way she had sometimes looked past Ayisulu instead of at her, as if watching something only she could see.
"A seer," Ayisulu whispered. "She…?"
Erlan nodded. "My mother told me stories. Your grandmother once walked with shamans. She left that life behind, but the stories stayed. The Falcon seeks the last of that line."
"And you didn't think to mention this earlier?" Arslan asked, voice dangerously calm.
Erlan glanced at him. "I only confirmed it recently. I didn't expect to find her in the middle of the steppe with a prince glued to her side."
"I am not glued," Arslan said.
Bair glanced at Ayisulu's wrist, still faintly red where Arslan had grabbed her before. "Respectfully, Your Highness, you are emotionally adhesive."
Ayisulu choked on air.
Kanykei decided, for everyone's safety, to change the subject.
"So. The Falcon wants Ayisulu because of her grandmother. To use her? Control her? Trade her?" she asked.
"Probably all three," Erlan said. "He wants a dream-walker bound to him. Someone who can foresee threats before they appear. Armies before they march. Betrayals before they happen."
Ayisulu felt sick.
Arslan looked like he was calculating fifty different ways to kill a man he'd never met.
"And I assume," Arslan said, "you have some grand plan to stop him?"
"Yes," Erlan said simply. "Stay alive, move faster than his men, and don't let him get his hands on her."
"That's my plan," Arslan snapped.
Erlan blinked innocently. "Then we agree."
Temir whispered to Kanykei, "Why is it hotter all of a sudden?"
"Jealousy," she replied. "It changes the climate."
---
The day wore on. The worst of the tension eased into something quieter, more watchful. Horses grazed. Wounds were checked. People pretended not to keep glancing at the three in the center of it all.
As the sun began to sink toward the horizon, Ayisulu stepped away from the camp to walk along a low ridge. The air was cooler here, and quieter. She didn't go far — just enough to breathe without everyone's eyes on her.
Of course Arslan followed.
He didn't call her name. He just walked until he was beside her, matching her stride.
"You shouldn't go off alone," he said quietly.
"I'm not alone," she replied. "You're here."
He huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. "You're impossible."
They walked in silence for a while, the sky bleeding into soft reds and golds over the endless steppe.
Finally, Ayisulu spoke.
"Are you angry?"
"Yes," Arslan answered immediately.
She winced. "At me?"
He paused.
"…No."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You hesitated."
"I'm… reorganizing my anger," he admitted. "Most of it is for the Falcon. Some of it is for Erlan. A small, irrational portion is for the sand, which keeps getting in the way when I try to think."
Despite everything, Ayisulu laughed — quietly, but real.
Arslan looked at her like he wanted to catch that sound and keep it.
"You're taking this well," he said softly. "All of it. Your grandmother. Your bloodline. Being hunted."
"I'm not taking it well," she replied. "I'm just… staying upright."
"That's more than most people would manage."
She looked down at her hands.
"I don't know who I am anymore, Arslan. Just a girl from the steppe? A seer's granddaughter? A prize the Falcon wants?"
His voice sharpened.
"You are not a prize."
"Then what am I?" she asked quietly.
He stopped walking. She had to stop too, turning to face him.
His eyes were dark in the fading light, and for once he didn't look like a prince or a strategist or a commander. He just looked like a man trying very hard not to say something too big.
"You're Ayisulu," he said. "The girl who saves caravans and shames storms. Who fixes burned porridge and tames violent horses. Who walks into danger and drags the rest of us out of it."
His gaze softened, but his voice stayed steady.
"You're the person I look for first when something happens," he said. "And the one I think of when nothing is happening at all."
Her breath stopped.
Wind tugged at her braids. The sky glowed behind him. The world narrowed to the space between them.
"That sounds…" she began, voice weak, "suspiciously like—"
"Don't say it," he said quickly.
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because once I say it out loud, I won't be able to take it back," Arslan said. "And this is not a safe world for things that can't be taken back."
A beat of silence.
"Coward," she whispered, but there was no heat in it.
"Yes," he said calmly. "When it comes to you."
Her heart did something disastrous.
Somewhere behind them, faintly, Temir's voice drifted on the wind:
"ARE THEY CONFESSING? KANYKEI, ARE THEY CONFESSING?"
"Shut up and let fate do its job," Kanykei snapped back.
Ayisulu smiled despite herself.
Arslan's eyes dropped briefly to her lips, just once, like a man checking the edge of a cliff he absolutely should not jump from.
He exhaled, stepped back half a pace.
"We should return," he said. "Before Temir comes looking for 'romantic tension' again."
Ayisulu nodded.
But as they turned, she realized something quietly terrifying:
She wasn't afraid of her gift anymore.
She was afraid of how much it mattered what he thought of her.
And that, she suspected, was a kind of danger even the Falcon would never understand.