Where is your husband?

Where are your children?

The nomad has curiosities— those reckless enough to cost him a title only just secured. In the dark, smirking traces play over teeth with Teng Yue’s back to him, the curving spine framed in moonlight, the silver sarlag amassed about her shoulders. No longer a rigid huabiao. She arcs.

He gathers two pelts without looking down. There are parts under the sovereign composure wanting to be revealed, and perhaps for this reason the guardsman binds tighter to the code of his new station. The wind tugs at the edge of her deel and he steadies it, lifting away the other furs she’s gathered onto his own shoulders.

“Speak of your expectations and I will listen, Empress.” He glances back, sharply, “but if you would share more of yourself— I will guard that, too. Do you wish to acquaint me with those who hold place in your court, and whether any warrant scrutiny?”