But she was a leader of her people, the nomad among that count and constrained by dynastic lines no man of the steppe had ever heeded.
Vines between, wèi jūn occupies a path opposite from which she stands, filling an interval of silence with only air.
“Both well and resting, majesty.”
Languid eyes drop to wander, focusing. “Before, when I told you I would guard you. I meant it.” Even in the ways unspoken.
