"Thank the heavens," he whispered into her hair. "Thank every god and ancestor. You're safe. You're safe."
Soyeon let herself melt into the embrace. Let herself feel the safety of his arms, the solid warmth of his body, the rapid hammering of his heart against her cheek.
But even as she stood in his arms, her mind wandered.
Where is Liang Jian?
The thunder of hooves interrupted her thoughts.
General Wei appeared on horseback, and slumped across the saddle in front of him was a body dressed in black.
Liang Jian.
"PRINCE LIANG JIAN!" Soyeon tore herself from Yifeng's arms and ran.
General Wei's face was a mask of blood. A deep gash cut diagonally across his left eye, the eye itself was ruined, the lid swollen shut, blood still seeping despite crude bandaging. He swayed in the saddle, clearly on the verge of collapse himself.
But his good eye was alert, and his grip on Liang Jian was firm.
"We must go," General Wei said, his voice rough. "Now. Before Khagan Temur recovers."
