Page 63 of The Nightblood Prince

Yexue and I went our separate ways just as dawn peeked over the horizon.

I traded the carriage for a fast horse and three of Yexue’s guards, on which he insisted.

I didn’t want to argue. They would follow me only until I reached Rong’s camp, at least. If Yexue required that they follow any further, then they might bring more trouble than protection.

We raced down trampled roads marred by blood. Crimson slush showered the hems of my robes with each thunderous thump of the stallions’ hooves. In the days since I had been taken, Yexue’s army had once again pushed Rong farther north.

Night after night, they slaughtered our people with harrowing attacks that rarely left anyone alive, Siwang had told me.

I clung tight to the reins and resisted the urge to touch the treaty strapped to my back. I would not let my nightmares come true. If Siwang didn’t sign the treaty now, I feared Yexue would change his mind and decide he was not satisfied with these morsels of Rong, not when he could have all of it.

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.