Page 100 of The Nightblood Prince

Gradually, the terrain turned mountainous, snowy peaks rising into view. We rode past Changchun, the walled city now open in surrender to the Lan army: another prize in Yexue’s string of victories.

As we approached Rong’s territory, Yexue’s men halted their horses so I could continue alone.

The patrolling Rong soldiers recognized me when I approached camp. From their wide eyes, they had not expected to see me again.

Half a moon had passed since Yexue stole me in the night. Everyone probably assumed I’d either been killed or deserted them. Despite their hesitation, the soldiers waved me through without much questioning. I kicked the horse into a gallop.

Camp was no longer the lively place I remembered. A heavy somberness hung in the air, chatter quieted in favor of the grunts of training boys and the cries of wounded men.

My heart sank when I saw them. New recruits with round faces and lean bodies. Teenage boys who were too young to be here.

Something inside me twisted.

Some of the men turned to look at me as I rode through camp.

“Little Li, you are alive!”

“Little Li! Gods, where have you been?”

“Little Li…”

I kept my eyes high. I had come here for one reason and one reason alone: to convince Siwang to sign this stupid—

I stopped. Because in the distance, I saw Caikun, clad in the bone-white garments of a man in mourning.

No.

I should have known when I passed Changchun earlier. If we had lost the city, his father must no longer be with us. General Wu would never let Changchun fall to Lan.

I had met Caikun’s father only once or twice. Brief glimpses from across the long imperial hall whenever the emperor held feasts for his esteemed general. He’d been a good friend to my father, one of the few men in the capital he spoke to with true heart. General Wu had loved his country more than anything else. A man who’d given his whole life to Rong, and raised all his sons to do the same.

I touched the treaty inside my robes.

Siwang. I had to find Siwang.

“Fei!” When Luyao called to me, I didn’t answer.

I kicked the horse into motion and raced for Siwang’s tent.

51

I knew something was wrong when Siwang’s guards greeted me with tight frowns and stern faces. When I jumped from my horse and approached the tent, their spears dropped in a cross formation to bar me from entering.

I clenched my jaw. If Yexue’s words had been lies, then Siwang would have run to me the moment he heard I was safe and alive, not barricaded himself behind his soldiers and their blades.

“Let me in,” I snapped. It took all my self-control not to grab the nearest guard and shove him out of the way, military rules be damned.

The men exchanged apprehensive glances. Thin lips and cautious eyes. The air was heavy with trepidation, like a fabric strained at the seams.

“He would want to know I’m alive,” I told them.

“Wait here,” the tallest guard said finally.

With a deep breath, he dipped into the tent. A composure of slow vigilance.

There was always a mindful diligence to the way Siwang’s men approached him. But Siwang wasn’t one to let his emotions influence the way he treated those around him. The loss of Changchun must have hit him hard.

Half a minute later—too long—the guard finally slipped out.

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