The maids came for her at dawn.
There were two of them.
Young.
Quiet.
One carried a basin of hot water scented with plum blossoms.
The other held a pale pink robe embroidered with silver clouds.
A tray of tea and celestial fruits completed the offering.
Someone in the palace had anticipated the need for a gesture of goodwill.
Tianyin watched them from the bed where she had not slept.
She sat against the pillows.
The imperial ornaments were lined up neatly on the crimson silk beside her.
“Your Highness is expected to pay her respects to His Majesty the King,” the first maid said with a deep bow.
“I’m tired.”
A brief silence.
“His Majesty has been waiting since dawn.
The Grand Chamberlain has already sent four messages this morning.”
The two maids exchanged a glance.
Professional resignation mixed with quiet determination.
Tianyin looked toward the window, where the morning light poured in—clear and uncompromising.
I might as well go.
Lying here won’t solve anything.
And I have a few things to say.
They prepared her in silence with the efficiency of seasoned attendants.
The wedding robe was replaced by the pale pink gown embroidered with silver clouds.
Her hair was tied back simply.
Only the lightest touch of makeup remained.
Nothing artificial.
Tianyin studied herself in the mirror.
She looked like a proper princess.
How ironic.
My sisters would be proud.
Or terrified.
Her eyes, reflected in the mirror, were unchanged.
Too direct.
Too alive.
Far too incapable of the carefully cultivated obedience expected of her.
She had never learned how to extinguish that spark.
The King of Yan sat in the reception hall with a calm that could easily be mistaken for serenity.
Tianyin recognized it instantly for what it truly was.
The self-control of a man accustomed to situations where revealing nothing was essential.
When she entered, he raised his eyes to her with open curiosity.
He made no effort to hide it.
“You are not the eldest princess,” he said simply.
Neither an accusation.
Nor merely an observation.
Simply a fact placed between them.
Tianyin walked forward and took her seat with the posture she always wore whenever she had decided she would not retreat.
She produced the imperial token—a white jade medallion engraved with the seal of the Seventh House—and placed it on the table.
“I am the Celestial Emperor’s seventh daughter.”
Her voice was clear.
“I am the one you did not meet during your visit.”
The King looked at the jade.
Then at her face.
“I see.”
Something in his voice resembled respect.
The Chamberlain delivered the news to Yanlong.
An unidentified woman in the bridal chambers.
A highly irregular situation.
Yanlong set aside his scrolls.
Rose to his feet.
Crossed the palace.
He entered the reception hall like a cold shadow.
The moment he saw Tianyin sitting across from his father with that quiet look of defiance, something inside him froze.
Then came alive again.
“I place you under arrest for impersonation and deceiving the King,” Yanlong declared, his voice like ice.
The guards stepped forward.
Tianyin stood.
“I can walk on my own,” she said, brushing aside their hands.
“I don’t need an army to escort me.”
She left the jade medallion on the table.
Then walked away without a backward glance.
Yanlong drew his sword.
The blade sang through the air.
“I alone will decide whether you live or die!” he shouted.
Tianyin didn’t even turn around.
The King of Yan stood.
Walked over to his son.
Then struck him.
A sharp blow across the shoulder.
“That girl is certainly unusual.”
He bent to retrieve the jade medallion.
“Of all the young women I’ve met, she is by no means easy to deal with.”
He studied the token.
“In her eyes, I see a sharp mind.
She wasn’t afraid to face me.
She wasn’t afraid of the guards.”
He paused.
“She wasn’t afraid of you.”
Another pause.
“Which is remarkable.”
“Everyone is afraid of you.”
The King held out the jade medallion.
“She isn’t just anyone.”
“She’s the Seventh Celestial Princess.”
“The one the Emperor kept hidden.”
Yanlong accepted the token.
Slowly turned it over in his hand.
On the reverse, engraved in fine, elegant characters, was a single name.
Tianyin.
He repeated it softly, almost tasting the sound.
“Tianyin.”
The name lingered in the air like a promise.
Yanlong descended to the prison cells.
She was sitting like a boy.
Not the way a young lady ought to sit while awaiting a prince.
Legs spread comfortably apart.
Elbows resting on her knees.
As though she couldn’t care less that he had come.
Yanlong stopped before the iron bars.
He hadn’t expected this.
She heard the door open and looked up.
“Him again.”
Her voice was light.
Almost amused.
Yanlong stopped two paces away.
Torchlight carved shifting shadows across his face.
He looked at her without speaking.
She returned his gaze without blinking.
It’s her.
Of course it is.
Yet there was something more.
The way she occupied space.
Even a prison cell.
As though the space itself belonged to her.
“So…”
“You really are the Seventh Celestial Princess?”
He raised the jade token before her eyes.
Tianyin reached for it.
He withdrew it before she could touch it.
The silence changed.
Yanlong leaned toward her.
Their gazes collided.
Then…
He smiled.
A slow smile.
A dangerous one.
So that’s why the Emperor hid her.
Not because she was a disgrace.
Because she was too real.
Too straightforward.
A girl like this cannot be controlled.
You adapt to her instead.
For the first time in front of a prospective bride…
Yanlong felt none of the familiar boredom.
Now…
This is something new.
They returned by carriage.
She sat opposite him.
Two feet of silence separated their knees.
The setting sun painted the plains in gold and amber.
Neither of them spoke.
This silence was different.
No longer a confrontation.
A silence with substance.
Tianyin gazed out the window without moving.
She could feel his eyes on her.
Don’t turn around.
Not yet.
He spoke first.
Only a single word.
Placed inside the carriage with the economy of someone who never used more words than necessary.
“Tianyin.”
Her name.
Not her title.
Not the formal address she’d heard her entire life.
Just her name.
Spoken in that low voice of his that never needed volume to fill a room.
She slowly turned toward him.
“How do you know my name?”
A single heartbeat of silence.
Almost imperceptible.
“It was engraved on your jade token,” he answered simply.
Tianyin.
Seventh Celestial Princess.
Of course.
It really is that simple.
She held out her hand.
“Give it back.”
He didn’t move.
“No.”
“It’s mine.”
“I know.”
She sprang to her feet.
Threw herself at him to snatch the jade.
Tianyin grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his fingers open.
Yanlong slipped free, switched hands, and effortlessly held the token beyond her reach.
She literally climbed onto him to seize it.
The carriage lurched dangerously.
The horses whinnied.
The coachman shouted something from outside.
Inside…
They continued wrestling over the jade like two children fighting over a toy.
Yanlong had never met a young woman so stubborn.
Someone who wasn’t afraid of him.
Who dared touch him.
Strike him.
Challenge him.
It was refreshing.
In an oddly unsettling way.
He caught her.
With one fluid motion, he turned her around.
She found herself with her back against his chest, trapped within his arms.
One arm circled her waist.
The other restrained her hands as they continued struggling.
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“No.”
“I’ll never marry you!”
“Never!”
He leaned closer.
His lips near her ear.
His warm breath brushed her skin.
“You’re not my type at all,” he murmured.
“I don’t like wild women like you.”
“I prefer them obedient.”
His grip tightened.
Holding her firmly against him.
Tianyin felt her heart pounding wildly.
From anger.
From frustration.
And from something else she refused to acknowledge.
She drove a sharp elbow into his ribs.
He grunted.
His grip loosened.
She broke free.
Leaped to the opposite side of the carriage.
Sat across from him, breathing hard, her hair disheveled, her cheeks flushed.
They looked at each other.
Their eyes met once more in the silence that returned.
The sun was setting over the Kingdom of Yan, setting the sky ablaze with every shade of red that belonged to the coming night—
The red of battle.
The red of ceremonies.
The red of every beginning from which there was no turning back.
A spark had just been born.
Still too small to illuminate anything.
Yet already too real to ever be extinguished.
And deep within Yanlong’s dark eyes, for the first time in many long years…
Something resembling life appeared.
A tiny light.
Quiet.
Stubborn.
She truly isn’t like the others, he thought, smiling.
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