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Xue Yang was running through the woods at night with his pockets full of jewels and armed men hard on his heels.

The light of a full moon was dappling the path, allowing for haste, but while Xue Yang could run, he couldn't hide.

He'd hoped to shake off his pursuers between the trees. Instead, they were closing in. He could hear the clanging of weapons and baying of hounds now even over his own ragged breath.

Small twigs whipped into his face. There was frost in the wind, biting at his lungs with each gulp of air. Xue Yang could feel his loot as he ran, rough-edged and heavy against his body.

You steal a few measly trinkets from some lord who's richer than a god and they turn the entire world upside down just to get them back.

Xue Yang certainly hadn't thought the lord's men would use dogs to track him down, interrupting his dinner at an inn and trying to take justice into their own hands by cutting him down there and then.

Truly, what is the world coming to?

It was only thanks to Xue Yang's fast reflexes and the sharpness of his dagger that the blood staining his clothes now was not his own. He'd not stopped to see if the man whose sword had come for his neck had lived or died.

He couldn't congratulate himself on another daring escape just yet, though. He'd bought himself time by fleeing through the secret passageway at the inn, but his lead was diminishing quickly.

Xue Yang's strength was waning, his heart pounding. The taste of metal filled his mouth. He tried to push through it, just a bit longer-

His foot caught on a root. He fell, landing hard.

Panting, Xue Yang couldn't move for a long, long moment. Too long. He pulled himself up onto all fours with effort. His bad hand cramped; the knees of his trousers were torn, probably the skin, too. Cursing internally, he looked around wildly.

The forest was thinning and opening onto a clearing. He was no longer sure where he was. Over there was a leafy tree with sturdy branches, maybe he could climb it?

If not for the damned hounds, that might have worked...

He managed to get back up on his feet. Before he could force himself to keep running, several things happened very quickly.

The baying grew louder; when Xue Yang turned, he saw the hounds, blurry outlines chasing through the thicket ahead of their masters.

He was trying to reach a tree after all, when he heard the thunder of hooves.

Curse that full moon; everyone is just taking a nightly stroll.

The riders appeared from the opposite direction, fast and fluid like shadows. They reached Xue Yang first, by a hair's breadth, forcing back the dogs. Their chain mail and swords shimmered in the cold light.

Knights.

There was only one thing to do now. Maybe he could buy himself some time. Isn't this what knights are supposed to be good for, anyway?

“Help!” Xue Yang screamed, not really having to act panicked. “Help me!”

It worked like magic. The riders – about half-dozen – circled Xue Yang, forming a reassuringly solid blockade between him and his hunters.

“Call your hounds back and state your purpose!” One rider, a woman by the sounds of it, commanded.

Xue Yang used the fact that both groups seemed to face off to get his bearings. Even in the moonlight it was difficult to see clearly; his view was further impeded by the huge horses. That surely meant he would get the opportunity to slip away, just as soon as those factions were fighting.

Though outnumbered, being on horseback gave his current saviours a clear advantage over his would-be attackers, who'd followed their hounds.

“Why must we tell you our business? Why are you blocking our way?” a rough voice called from where the dogs barked and growled.

“You're breaching our territory! Return to your own kingdom!” the woman called back, her clear voice ringing in the night.

Another man among the pursuers laughed harshly. “How can you be sure we're not from your kingdom?”

“You're coming directly from the border. We are the Royal Guard of Tian Shan. Return to your own lands.” The latest speaker was a tall man on a brown horse closest to Xue Yang, though he couldn't see the rider's face.

Interesting. Xue Yang hadn't realized he'd left the wild lands between kingdoms, and it seemed neither had his pursuers.

Tian Shan was a small kingdom at the foot of the mountains. Xue Yang needed to go further into it now, only he'd just been there. In fact, a few jewels on him came from there. He hadn't planned on showing his face again so soon. Needs must, though.

“We're hunting a criminal! He stole from our lord! Hand him and the stolen goods over, and we'll leave.”

Though expected, it made Xue Yang's heart pound worse again. “Not true! They wanted to rob me!”

He needed to make up a story, but it was hard to focus, his breath still coming in gasps.

The rider on the brown horse – perhaps the leader of that group – ignored Xue Yang. “You might have chased him to death. Is this your idea of justice?”

“What's it to you? Who cares how a criminal dies?” one of the pursuers called back.

A part of Xue Yang wanted to rage at the audacity. Another part decided it was time to run again. He was still blocked in by horses, but he was slippery.

He slid through the gaps like water, but he didn't get far.

A sword blocked him, making him freeze to a halt. When he ducked under it and turned, dagger in hand, not willing to leave his back unprotected, he saw the riderless brown horse before he saw the knight.

It became quickly clear that resistance was futile.

The man wore armour and what with his reach being so much longer, courtesy of his height and sword, it was not a fair fight. Not to mention he was well-rested, while Xue Yang was exhausted.

Backed against a tree with the gleaming tip of a sword dangerously close to his throat and his dagger out of reach on the forest floor, Xue Yang stood frozen.

The knight took off his helmet, showing his face, pale and haughty in the moonlight. Like a statue made of precious stone. Not a merciful face, but there was rarely any mercy in this world.

Undaunted, Xue Yang gave his best puppy dog eyes. “Da-ge, I'm innocent, just a traveller.” He could see a flicker of uncertainty in the knight's eyes and seized on it. “They attacked me, you can see it, I'm bloodied all over!”

“He surely has our lord's valuables on him, you only have to search him!”

Damn. Perhaps the knight won't deign to follow that guy's order?

Said knight was looking at Xue Yang intently. Too intently.

When he spoke, the knight's voice was as frosty as his face.“Save us both time and unpleasantness and hand over what you stole.”

Xue Yang barely had to feign his consternation. “What are you talking about?”

The blade moved; Xue Yang could feel cold metal at his exposed throat. When he swallowed reflexively, the pressure grew.

“I can see you're carrying something, don't deny it.”

Xue Yang crossed his arms slowly, unwilling to give these people the satisfaction of looking cowed. He smiled up at the knight sunnily, batting his lashes. “You don't believe me? I'm hurt, da-ge. I thought there was trust between us.”

“Stop playing games,” the knight said, but whether it was due to Xue Yang's theatrics or something else, the sword left his throat again.

Cat-quick, Xue Yang took some jewels from his tunic pocket and threw them in the knight's face. When the man recoiled, he ran.

Only to be stopped by another rider's sword; yet another horse's body. Not wanting to be stabbed or trampled, Xue Yang stilled again.

Before he could gather his wits about him, the knight had caught up again, too. His face was not made out of stone; he was bleeding from several small cuts.

Xue Yang braced for a hit that never came. Instead, the knight asked: “Qingyang, do you have ropes?”

“One moment, Song Lan,” the clear-voiced woman said. It was her sword at Xue Yang's throat now. She was still on her horse; her helmet covering most of her face, a dark braid falling down her back.

“You can get your lord's things back,” the man named Song Lan called to the pursuers with an awful calm, but his eyes, dark as the night sky, never left Xue Yang.

Xue Yang was still being blocked in by horses and swords, but one of the other knights now also tightly wound a rope around him, plastering his arms to his body.

“Alright, give us the jewels! And the criminal, then we'll be on our way!” someone yelled back.

Xue Yang's stomach sank at the realization that it had all been for nought – the theft, the escape, the effort of running. Everything he'd ever done. Meng Yao and Xuanyu might never even know what happened to him.

No, he wouldn't think of that. Still locking gazes with the tall knight, Xue Yang bared his teeth in a desperate snarl.

“So much for knights being honourable. That was not a fair fight! None of it is fair! Do you know how rich their lord is? He doesn't need all those things! Do you know what they'll do to me?”

It wouldn't be a quick death, that much was clear.

Song Lan just looked at Xue Yang impassively, while someone else continued to truss him up, hands patting him down to take his precious loot from him as well as the small knife in his boot. Then the knight turned away. Xue Yang wanted to scream, only his breath was gone.

All he could hear was his heartbeat, louder than drums.

Suddenly, Song Lan spoke again, voice calm and icy. “You have your jewels. The criminal is ours.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Daylight was finally falling through the narrow window high up in the dungeon's wall.

Xue Yang had lived to see another day, though he wasn't at all certain he would survive this one. Perhaps by now he should have been resigned to the fickleness of fate and fortune, to the insignificance of his existence. Resigned to death.

His bad hand twinged at that, a flash of pain flaring through delicate bones. Especially the ones that weren't there.

He groaned at his own maudlin thoughts, then took a deep breath and rubbed at his tired eyes.

With a bit of luck, he wouldn't hang; after all, would anyone really go to the trouble of saving someone only to execute them the very next day?

Though that knight seemed both cold-hearted and righteous enough. And what if they cut off my hand?

Well, there was no use in dwelling on that. He tried to push away the thought even as his stomach lurched.

It was unlikely, given how keen the knights had seemed to appear to be just. Civilised. No, he'd either be kept in the dungeon for a while or perhaps he'd get off with a whipping.

The latter of which would be unpleasant, sure, but at least it'd be over soon. And if it was the former, he had to admit, he'd been in worse dungeons.

There were seemingly no rats and definitely no decomposing bodies, no smears of shit or bloodstains on the floor. There was a jug of clean water and even a blanket.

Not that Xue Yang had slept a wink, in spite of being bone tired. The muscles of his legs still burned from the strain, his clothes were covered in another man's dried blood and he was cold, even with the blanket. Hungry, too, as he'd had no food since having to abandon his meal at the inn. Small wonder, then, that he was entertaining dark thoughts.

Still, now that the first rays of sunshine painted golden stripes on the dungeon wall and the air drifting in smelled fresh and strangely sweet, Xue Yang felt new hope.

The knights had effectively abducted him, but at least they hadn't left him to his hunters. Nor had they hurt him, though the long ride had not been pleasant, bound up and exhausted as he was.

He'd been riding behind each of the knights in turn, presumably to spare the horses, though this did not include the knight called Song Lan.

He's probably way too fancy a lad to share his horse with a lowlife such as me.

Still, though banged up, Xue Yang was not badly injured, plus he still had all his skills. He hadn't been able to pick the lock on the door, but with a bit of luck there'd be more and better opportunities to run.

There was another thing to be grateful for: the knights who'd searched him hadn't found all his loot. The most precious item was still on his person, the one that Meng Yao had tasked him with getting specifically. Apparently, the gem was exceedingly rare, to be used for the Jin's attempts at magic potions.

In any case, he'd been right that wearing the necklace with said gemstone in its pendant in plain sight would work, even if he no longer knew how he was supposed to deliver it back in Lanling in a few days.

Xue Yang was toying with it, delighted in spite of it all by how the gem caught the light, when there was a sound at the door. He quickly covered the pendant and braced himself for whatever was to come.

It was only a woman, maybe a little older than himself, with a pretty face. She was carrying a tray, but Xue Yang was certain she was no maid, and not just because of her luxurious clothes. Red silk? In the dungeons?

She put a bowl of what looked like porridge down on the stone cot where Xue Yang was sitting.

He smiled up at her. “Aw, thank you, jiejie, you shouldn't have.”

“Indeed, I should not.” She was not looking at him, but picking up other things from the tray, which she'd also set down. “However, someone has got to do it.”

Xue Yang scoffed, but after a moment, he took the bowl, relishing in its warmth against his hands. He didn't turn down free food as a rule. Besides, while the thought of overpowering her crossed his mind, he wasn't foolish enough. There'd be guards out there.

He'd only eaten a few spoonfuls while keeping a wary eye on the woman, when she suddenly reached for his face with a damp rag. Xue Yang jerked away with a hiss.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing? I don't need you to wash me.”

She glared at him. “I'm the chief healer here. I'm trying to clean your wounds so you don't die of an infection.”

“Chief healer? Yeah, right. Also, if it's so important, I've been in this dungeon for hours...”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I only have an entire castle to deal with and not enough staff or enough magic. Apologies for the delay, sire.”

Right. The castle. He'd been dozing off when they'd arrived, but he remembered an imposing structure with towers and turrets.

She reached for Xue Yang's face again. When he turned away, she tried to hold his jaw and Xue Yang grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away harshly.

“Get off me.”

Moments later, there was a long needle in her free hand, too close to Xue Yang's neck. He was really out of luck these days.

“If you touch me again, I'll use this needle to paralyse you while I treat you. Is that what you want?”

Xue Yang bared his teeth. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Oh, I would. And I might also have assault added to your charges.”

The problem was, Xue Yang believed here. Especially the thing with the needle. Grudgingly, he let go of her wrist and let her dab at his face with some horrible, stinging solution.

“That hurts,” he complained. “Besides, what's the point in preventing infections, if I'm to be hanged anyway?”

“You're still alive now and therefore my responsibility, more's the pity. And what are you, an infant? Hold still. Anywhere else?”

She didn't wait, dabbed at his scraped-up knees, before adding some ointment on the wounds and then running her hands over his ribs.

“I didn't break any bones.”

“Hm.” She shrugged, as though acknowledging his point. “Anyway, you should eat. Your trial is before midday.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Xue Yang's experience with trials was limited, because he usually got away.

He was surprised when two men led him into the castle proper. They went up sweeping flights of stairs and down long, winding corridors, passing by various people who looked at Xue Yang curiously. It was disorientating.

Eventually, they reached a large, octagonal chamber with tiled floors and arched ceilings. Daylight fell through high windows with diamond-shaped glass panes. Some of the glass was stained, throwing rainbow lights. It was grand enough to make Xue Yang momentarily wish he'd been able to clean up properly.

He was made to stand in front of a long table made of gleaming wood, though there were chairs, while the men took station next to him, no doubt to restrain him if needed. From there, he had a good view of the group that entered soon after.

It consisted of two women and three men. An older, unremarkable man, an elegant middle-aged woman. A younger woman in chain mail with a friendly face and braided hair, who Xue Yang recognised as Qingyang.

The other knight was Song Lan. He still looked like he was made of jade. The small cuts on his face were barely visible, so at least Xue Yang couldn't be accused of marring his good looks. Though the man also looked rather constipated.

When their eyes briefly met, Song Lan's were cold.

It didn't matter, because then Xue Yang looked at the last man and everyone else lost his interest.

He was almost as tall as Song Lan, he also looked jade-hewn, but where Song Lan was handsome, he was devastatingly pretty. He was dressed in white, lacy clothes, impractical for anything. When he caught Xue Yang looking, he gave a small smile.

Which made no sense.

Xue Yang had been so distracted, he jumped when he was suddenly addressed.

The older man frowned at him. “Captive. You stand accused of multiple counts of theft and of disturbing the queen's peace.”

Right, there was a queen here, though her name escaped Xue Yang.

Isn't she meant to be some kind of sorceress, too? Come to think of it, didn't Song Lan say he's part of the royal guard?

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I'm innocent,” Xue Yang said mechanically. Then he tried to focus. Why was he even getting distracted by pretty boys and queens, as if his life wasn't on the line? “Anyway, I don't understand how this falls under your jurisdiction. Even your guard acknowledged that the villains who chased me yesterday came from outside your kingdom. So even if this wasn't all a misunderstanding-”

“Don't bother. We know who you are,” Song Lan said flatly. He had a rolled-up paper in his hand, unrolling it now and holding it up for all to see.

It was a wanted poster of Xue Yang. The likeness was actually quite good. Damn.

“So you just believe every story you hear...” Xue Yang started, unwilling to give up this easily.

“We do, because my knights found the stolen goods on you. Some of which have been reported stolen in Tian Shan,” the man in white cut in, voice light and melodious.

Song Lan pulled back a chair from the table and the man sat down elegantly, facing Xue Yang. Alright, definitely someone important. Wait, if those are his knights...

“My apologies, I have you at a disadvantage,” the man said, actually sounding sincere. “I'm Xiao Xingchen, Prince of Tian Shan.”

Xue Yang could feel his eyes widen, but he refused to react otherwise. If the guy was waiting for Xue Yang to bow and say milord or some shit, he would be sorely disappointed.

If so, Xiao Xingchen – the fucking Prince of Tian Shan – did not show it. “Though I suppose Jiangzai is not your actual name. Would you return the kindness and introduce yourself?”

“Xue Yang,” Xue Yang said, because it really didn't matter at this point. He couldn't quite help himself, though. “I don't know about things from Tian Shan, I buy and sell gemstones...”

Xiao Xingchen looked disappointed. “We know you stole from a lord near the borderlands. Whatever one might think about it, people rarely go to the trouble of hunting a person with dogs without a reason. Furthermore, it would be odd for a merchant to carry his wares on his body. And if you stole once... We're not talking about a crust of bread here, either.”

“I see you've already decided on a verdict,” Xue Yang gritted out, though it felt rather surreal, to be arguing with the prince of some piddling kingdom, personally. “So much for justice.”

He should have been more scared, perhaps he was scared, but honestly, all of this was confusing. Apart from everything else, they weren't even near the gallows or the stocks.

The older woman, who'd turned out to be a scribe, muttered something and Qingyang snorted. Song Lan was glaring at Xue Yang.

What an undisciplined rabble.

The prince's face looked stern now. “Indeed, we've found you guilty, based on all the aforementioned evidence. However, before we get to the sentence, one more question.”

Feeling entirely wrong-footed by this farce of a trial, Xue Yang could only frown, momentarily too dumbstruck to continue his previous argument.

“My chief healer tells me the blood on your clothes is not yours-”

So that lady really is chief healer? “How would she know that for-”

“How dare you interrupt!” Song Lan snarled, but Xiao Xingchen gave a tiny shake of his head, and the knight immediately grew still and quiet again.

Just a great guard dog. Though Xue Yang wasn't sure if his bark was really worse than his bite.

“Tell us why your garments are soaked in another's blood,” Xioa Xingchen said.

There was something about his voice and his eyes that made Xue Yang pay attention. Could it be some sort of magic?

Out loud, Xue Yang sighed, to show just what he thought of these tiresome proceedings.

“I'm not sure why I should answer, since you won't believe me anyway. However, I was attacked by the very men who chased me.”

“So you murdered a man,” Song Lan said coldly, and it seemed as though the entire room grew frostier.

Xue Yang could feel himself tense. It would appear that theft was one thing here, murder another. Most places thought one was as bad as the other, provided it was a poor person doing either, of course.

What a strange kingdom.

“I defended myself,” he clarified. “He attacked me with a sword, I counter-attacked with my dagger. Knights kill people, too, do they not?” Xue Yang sneered at Song Lan's sour expression. Then he shrugged. “Besides, he might have lived.”

Silence descended, the only sound the scratching of the scribe's quill.

Xiao Xingchen was still looking at Xue Yang thoughtfully. Then he nodded decisively and said: “Mr. Yao, if you would.”

The older man cleared his throat ponderously. “You, Xue Yang, also known as Jiangzai, are hereby sentenced to serving the Prince of Tian Shan loyally, until further notice and at least until you are no longer thought to be a danger to the peace of the land. You will complete any and all duties assigned to you...”

What? Xue Yang couldn't hear any more over the rushing in his ears, suddenly faint with disbelief.

This can't be happening.

Except, of course it could. That was the thing about royalty. They could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

His duties kept Song Lan busy and since Xingchen's days were not idle either, it was late evening by the time he got a chance to speak to him again.

The great hall was empty, dinner cleared away, only the scents of spices and woodsmoke lingering. Song Lan would need to go to the kitchens, if he still wanted to eat. The prince's audience chamber was equally deserted, but Song Lan found one of Xingchen's personal attendants in a corridor, lighting the candles.

“The prince has retired to his rooms, Knight Song,” the man informed him. “He took his dinner there, too.”

Song Lan wasn't quite sure what to make of this information. He considered just letting Xingchen rest and speaking to him tomorrow, only, the matter felt too urgent.

So Song Lan went up to Xingchen's private rooms, knocking at the door in a familiar rhythm that had long since become muscle memory. Though it had been a while.

It didn't take long for the door to swing open. Xingchen, in pink house robes with his hair in disarray, smiled, but he looked tired even in the scant light.

Song Lan bowed. “I'm sorry to disturb you, my prince. I can come back another time.”

“Please, Zichen, it's just us. No need to be formal.” Xingchen laughed. “And it's fine, I was still going over some documents. I can't wait for jiujiu to get back; he usually deals with those. Want to come in?”

“You don't know who might be listening here,” Song Lan said quietly. Indeed, a maid passed further down the corridor, carrying something or other. “On that note, we're not kids any more. Is it appropriate for me to be in your chambers at this time?”

Xingchen's smile faded. Song Lan could have kicked himself. Instead, he stood motionless, while Xingchen seemed to deliberate briefly.

“I think it is a prince's prerogative to see the captain of his guard whenever and wherever he chooses. Surely I'm also allowed to still have friends. However, I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

His voice was still gentle, but the distant tone and formal phrasing made Song Lan's stomach sink.

“Xingxing,” he said, very quietly. “I didn't mean... It's just...”

Xingchen stepped back, leaving the door open. “For the love of all that's holy, either come in or leave. Let's not talk in the corridor. You're right about there being ears everywhere.”

Song Lan was ashamed to say he didn't hesitate for another moment, following Xingchen inside and carefully shutting the door.

Apparently the prince had guessed at his choice, because Xingchen had already retreated to his window seat at the other side of the room. An old favourite of his.

Song Lan could feel himself smile as he looked around. The chambers had been Xingchen's for as long as Song Lan had known him – since they were 7 and 8. While the décor had changed now, almost twenty years hence, Xingchen's personality hadn't, at least not when it came to order. Or rather, chaos.

The rosewood table at the room's centre was a mess of papers and dishes, the shelves a clutter of books and trinkets. A cat with cream-coloured fur and dark markings snoozed on one of two chairs at the table.

When he met eyes with Xingchen again, the latter looked quizzical, though he was smiling again, too.

“What?” he asked.

Song Lan had never been good with words, so he just shrugged. Then, because it was true, he added: “It's good to have you back. Though I wish the occasion were better.”

Xingchen had been gone on and off for years, for his studies, then for spiritual guidance and on diplomatic missions. He'd returned for longer periods when Queen Baoshan had begun spending ever increasing time in a remote shrine in the mountains. Then, rather suddenly only three months ago, the queen had died and Xingchen had returned for good. He would be crowned king after the traditional seven months of mourning.

Tian Shan and the royal palace were still reeling from the queen's passing. Not to mention, it had... destabilized relations between the various kingdoms in their corner of the world.

Xingchen smiled softly. “The occasion is sad, but it's still good to be home.”

Song Lan wasn't sure he believed him, but even if he had wanted to say so, which he didn't really, he didn't get a chance.

“It's also nice to have you here, Zichen. I don't get a lot of visitors these days.”

Xingchen actually pouted. It looked so cute, it made Song Lan's heart constrict and his mouth grow dry, even as he felt a familiar gloominess.

It had been long years in which Song Lan had only seen his best friend sporadically, but he'd still realized the truth of it all.

He'd been in love with Xingchen for years at this point.

And this love only seemed to grow, while Xingchen still just saw him as his old friend.

Is it even right to be here under the guise of friendship, isn't it false pretences-

“Zichen?” Apparently Xingchen had been trying to get his attention. He looked worried now, no longer pouting cutely. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” Song Lan cleared his throat and forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to sit down, you look uncomfortable. Have you eaten yet?”

Song Lan was about to wave him off when his stomach gave a pathetic gurgle. Xingchen giggled and got up to pull the bell.

Song Lan sat down on the free chair at the table, conveniently close to the window seat. Outside, it was dark, the views of the grounds and mountains obscured.

“Help yourself to tea.”

Xingchen didn't need to say it twice. It was still warm. Song Lan moved the cup slightly, strangely mesmerised by the swirling liquid, the patterns the tea leaves formed. The silence stretched in a way it never used to.

“Zichen.”

Xingchen sounded tense, so Song Lan immediately looked up.

“Did something happen while you were patrolling?”

Song Lan quickly shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary today. That's what I want to talk to you about, though. Yesterday...”

Xingchen opened his mouth as though to interject, but just then, a knock came. Following Xingchen's signal, a servant brought in a tray of food and tended to the table.

Once he was gone, Song Lan came straight to the most pressing point: “I don't mean to question your choices, but I think the trial today should have ended differently.”

Now that the food was here, he found he had no appetite. Not wishing to be rude, he started on some soup.

Xingchen got up from his window seat to join Song Lan at the table, picking up the cat and placing her on his lap instead, carding his fingers through the creamy fur. The cat gave a sleepy meow, then purred. Xingchen smiled, but soon grew serious again.

“We already spoke about that,” he said after a moment. “My point stands. I won't have people hanged or whipped for non-violent offences. If such punishments would actually dissuade people, crime would not exist. By giving people work, a place to stay and such, I think we can at least redeem some of them...”

Song Lan couldn't listen any longer. Xingchen was effectively a regent now, how was he still so naive? How was Song Lan supposed to keep him safe?

He thought of the man they'd encountered in the woods yesterday. Xue Yang. He'd looked so young and scared. Innocent. When he'd smiled, surprisingly, he'd showed a pointy canine tooth, like some feral little animal.

Then he'd shown his true colours.

“Xingxing, you said it yourself, this delinquent isn't a hungry child that stole some food. He's a professional thief. He had more jewels on him than are in this palace.” Song Lan put his spoon down, increasingly incensed. “It must have been so difficult to get them, it requires skill. We don't know anything else about him, either. And the amount of blood on him!”

Xingchen looked taken aback and Song Lan could feel his ears grow warm, a little ashamed of his outburst.

“Besides, are you going to give every criminal in Tian Shan a role at court?”

Xingchen frowned. “As to the blood, he had a point, you know. Also, you were the one to bring this particular criminal here. ”

Honestly, Song Lan was starting to regret it. He'd had no choice, though.

“Two wrongs don't make a right,” he said eventually. “The people chasing him were butchers. Nevertheless. I know he looks quite sweet, but-”

“You think this is about his looks?” Xingchen sounded upset. “What do you take me for? Anyway, I have thought it all through. Don't you trust me?”

“I didn't mean it like that. And of course I trust you.” Song Lan sighed, exasperated by the lack of understanding and clarity between them. “In any case, making him a servant seems needlessly risky. The queen wouldn't have-”

He immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing.

Xingchen's voice remained calm, but his expression turned distant. “The queen is no longer with us, and I've made my decision. I'm tired, I'll retire to bed. Let's talk more later. You're welcome to finish your meal here; please extinguish the candles on your way out. Rest well, Zichen.”

He left Song Lan with too much food, a sinking heart, and something like growing rage at this new trouble that had wormed itself into their lives.

As if life in the royal palace of Tian Shan hadn't been complicated enough already.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The day after the trial, Xue Yang was no longer in shock. Instead, he was seething.

How dare that pretty boy princeling with his fine clothes and unblemished hands treat me like a literal pawn.

How dare that guard dog of a knight think himself better than me, when he's probably killed scores more and goes round abducting people.

How dare they expect me to work for them!

Xue Yang had fought tooth and nail so he'd never have to be at the mercy of the powerful ever again. The mere thought of his predicament made his stomach churn and his skin crawl.

It didn't help that his day had started off badly and only gotten worse from there.

First, Xue Yang had spent another half-day and night in the dungeons, stewing in his misery, before the guards had dragged him out at daybreak. He'd then been shown to a wash-room. While being clean was nice, only having cold water was not. Xue Yang had grown used to finer things. When he'd refused to use it, one guard had dumped the first icy bucket over his head.

When I'm was going to raze this castle to the ground, as I will, that fellow will be the first to go. Or the second, after that knight.

Also, he hated the drab servant's clothes he'd been given, though they were admittedly clean and warm. And at least he'd kept his precious necklace.

There wasn't much else to be happy about, though. While he'd been sentenced to “serve the prince”, he'd unsurprisingly seen neither hide nor hair of the man.

Instead, he'd been put under the supervision of another servant, an older man with a hard face, who had Xue Yang lugging vats of something or other.

The guy had barely said a few words but still managed to be rude and he'd whacked Xue Yang to the back of the head the one time he complained.

In order to stop himself from breaking the man's wrist, Xue Yang had dropped the last vat where he'd stood and walked off. Either the fellow was smart enough to actually back off, or more likely he was too surprised at the blatant disobedience to do anything about it.

He had, however, complained to the guards, who'd then locked Xue Yang in a storage room, where he was to stack sacks of grain. They'd only let him out after he'd completed the task, after what felt like hours.

To add insult to injury, no one else seemed to want to interact with Xue Yang. While the feeling was mutual, it still stung.

It was currently made worse by the fact that he was standing in a rather public spot, namely the great hall. He'd been just in time to see the dinner plates being cleared away and the last stragglers leave. The smell of food was still in the air, taunting him.

Around him, passing people – officials, servants, nobles whoever the fuck they are – stared and whispered when they noticed him.

Why not just put him in the stocks, after all? This felt equally as degrading. Anyway, how dare they ogle him and gossip about him before he was even out of earshot? Xue Yang wanted to tear out everyone's eyes and tongues. Only, he couldn't. He couldn't do anything.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself; it wouldn't do to lose control. He didn't know this castle, nor the town or countryside around it. He had no allies here.

However, these fools hadn't chained him down. He'd run at the first opportunity. The thought was soothing. Perhaps he should start by actually paying attention to his surroundings.

Since Xue Yang had visited Jinlin Tai, this was not the first great hall he found himself in, nor the grandest.

It was simply a large room, longer than it was wide, with a high ceiling and narrow windows, outside of which it was growing dark again. There was a long table, benches, a dais. It smelled quite nice, courtesy of the food scents and the rushes on the floor, but it was cold and the chandeliers were only partially lit, giving the place a gloomy cast that even the colourful tapestries on the walls couldn't alter.

It was apparently always busy here, even outside of meal times, since the hall connected to various corridors. Besides, some servants were still cleaning up.

Xue Yang had just sat down on a deserted bench and was listlessly examining the nearest tapestry (plum blossoms in snow) while entertaining the thought of just leaving through the front door and stealing the first horse, when Song Lan entered.

The knight towered over the other people sprinkled about, his sharp eyes roaming the cavernous space as though looking for someone.

Before Xue Yang could decide whether to hide from the man or go up to him and break a chair over his thick skull, he felt a sharp hit on his own arm.

He looked up, into the angry face of one of the guards. Apparently, the man had used the flat of his sword to get his attention, none too gently.

Xue Yang bared his teeth at him, but before he could say anything, the guard barked: “How dare you sit here idly when there's work to be done? Dinner is over.”

He was rather loud and kept berating him, to the renewed stares of those around them. Xue Yang's face burned.

He was so distracted, he missed half of the man's tirade, until he said: “And if there's no more work, then back to the dungeons with you.”

How am I supposed to ever leave like this?

Too hungry and tired to even bother fighting back, Xue Yang suddenly remembered that the damned knight was watching his dressing-down, too.

When he looked around however, there was no trace of Song Lan. Of course. He'd brought him here, completely upended Xue Yang's life, and now the knight would never waste another thought on him.

Shortly after, as Xue Yang was dragged back into the dungeons for a third night, it occurred to him that the flicker of compassion he'd seen in Song Lan's eyes had clearly been nothing but a figment of his own foolish imagination.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

A day later, Xue Yang's mood was still rotten. Granted, the day hadn't been worse than the last one, but it still left much to be desired.

At least he'd been let out of the dungeon again; this time without being drenched in water. Also, he'd gotten breakfast.

While nobody really seemed to know what to do with him, there was no shortage of work. Since he was too weary to argue today, he didn't even get shoved or yelled at. Though his one attempt at casually walking out the castle doors had been firmly rebuffed.

Things had improved slightly when it became clear that Xue Yang could read and write. His work suddenly involved a lot of inventories and was tedious but easier than the previous day's labour. Also, the other servants he encountered today seemed scared of him. That, he could work with.

He even started to see that there were some advantages to his situation, far and few though they might be. For one, he'd shaken off his pursuers for sure.

So, Xue Yang decided to keep his head down, to note every door and hall, and to listen closely to whatever gossip reached his ears.

Maybe, when I get back to Lanling, I can appease Meng Yao and the Jin with some secrets, even if the stone will be lost or delivered late.

It was almost dinner time when things went wrong once more. He'd successfully delivered a luckily smallish trunk to chambers on the higher floors of the castles, but then had gotten completely turned around on his way back.

He'd been wandering seemingly endless, deserted, draughty back corridors of the castle for so long, he was sure he'd missed dinner again. Worse, after a while Xue Yang half-feared he'd trapped himself in the castle's bowels and would perish there, to haunt these halls forever more.

What an embarrassing fate for an accomplished thief.

However, before he could actually panic, the delicious scent of roasting meat, grains and spices wafted through the air. Xue Yang followed it, to soon hear the clanging of pots and pans. Light spilled out of an arched, open doorway.

He cautiously looked into what was clearly the bright, warm kitchens. There were people cooking, cleaning and chatting, giving Xue Yang a chance to look around until he saw what he needed, luckily nearby.

Ignoring the confused and somewhat alarmed looks and questions once he was spotted, he swiped some bread and an apple.

He was already back in the corridor, taking a bite of the apple, when somebody said sharply: “I saw that.”

Sighing, Xue Yang turned, to come face to face with a teenage girl in pale green silk, with a pixie-like face, light eyes and hair too messy for her fine clothes.

“So what?” he asked, and took another bite, crunching loudly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You're that delinquent. Clearly, you haven't given up your thieving ways. You could have at least asked.”

“It was one apple. There's entire baskets of them there.”

This was true. He was going to leave it at that, but the girl didn't know when to quit.

“You're not the only person here! So selfish. Besides, those are my favourites.”

Xue Yang actually had to laugh, though he still wasn't in a joyful mood. “Your favourites, but I'm selfish?”

The girl looked at him disdainfully, then turned away, muttering: “Xingchen-ge deserves better. And I'll tell him, too, but you just leave with your stolen goods, dog.”

Her use of the prince's given name should have served as a warning even if her silks hadn't. Besides, perhaps he should've been above arguing with a mere youth, but Xue Yang's temper was fraying.

“Insults, now? I guess you're more gutter rat than lady yourself.”

“You!” The girl squared up to Xue Yang again, or tried to, anyway. “Mind your tongue. I can have you beaten, or worse!”

“Hit a sore spot, did I?” Xue Yang sneered. “Go on then, little girl, tattle on me, see if I care!”

“I will and you'll be sorry!”

She whirled around, almost bumping into somebody who clearly neither of them had noticed.

Xiao Xingchen was still dressed in immaculate white. He still looked beautiful, too, but his face seemed colder in the twilit corridor. He briefly glanced at Xue Yang, then reached out for the girl.

“A-Qing,” he said softly.

Of course. He'd seen the tail end of their confrontation and would naturally assume it was all Xue Yang's fault. A-Qing's threats most likely would come true.

Xue Yang had also spoken the truth, though. He didn't care. Yet, he also didn't dare to just walk off, standing frozen, backed against the rough stone wall of the corridor.

Meanwhile Xiao Xingchen and a-Qing had a brief conversation, too quiet to hear, then the latter flounced off, though not without scoffing at Xue Yang.

Xue Yang just gave her his best disdainful smile in turn, since the prince was right there. The man didn't scare him, but he also didn't want to make his situation worse.

Not that I'll end up chained down, after all.

When he met Xiao Xingchen's eyes again, the latter looked stern, but seemed to soften somewhat.

“No one has shown you the grounds yet, have they? Walk with me.” The Prince did not wait for a response.

Must be nice to have people heed your every wish.

However, this development actually suited Xue Yang.

Outside, it wasn't quite as late as expected, the sun still setting, the sky all pink and gold. Though it was chilly, the promised frost had not yet arrived; instead, the air smelled of rain and grass and woods.

It had only been three days that Xue Yang had been inside that palace, but it felt like lifetimes. It made his chest constrict strangely.

At the thought of the palace, he turned. They'd come down the same wide stairs he'd entered through, but that time, it had been pitch dark. Xue Yang was still too close to get a good look, but he saw that the castle, towering above him, was a similar dusky rose colour to the evening sky.

“You'll have a better view of it from the gardens,” Xiao Xingchen said.

“I don't care about your castle,” Xue Yang snapped, then almost wished he could take the words back. He wasn't used to having to tip-toe around somebody and he hated it.

Xiao Xingchen merely shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn't. This way.”

He strode down a path leading between high, manicured hedges and into what must be the gardens. They seemed vast, yet everything - bushes, grass, late flowers – had been tamed into submission, not a leaf out of place. Lanterns hung in the trees, warm little dots of light against the rapidly darkening sky.

Xiao Xingchen, when he stopped and turned to wait for Xue Yang, looked otherworldly in the evening light. For some reason, Xue Yang hated that, too.

Isn't it enough that he's royal? Must he be handsome, too?

For some time, they walked in silence.

Shadows gathered under the pruned trees at the edges of the lawn. When Xue Yang looked around, the castle with its towers loomed forebodingly, few windows lit. Around them, not a single soul could be seen.

“Aren't you worried? To be alone here with a criminal?”

Xiao Xingchen looked startled. It occurred to Xue Yang that maybe he shouldn't have addressed the prince first, but he refused to be embarrassed at the faux pas.

“Should I be?” Xiao Xingchen asked after a moment. He didn't sound afraid or even angry, merely curious.

It rubbed Xue Yang the wrong way.

“You should.” He knew he was playing with fire, yet for some reason he couldn't stop. “I could have stolen a knife from the kitchens. It would be so easy to attack you now. Do you have a death wish?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Xue Yang.” It was hard to read the prince's face in the gathering gloom, but his tone, though calm, held an edge now.

“What? Were you expecting me to thank you on my knees for your mercy?” Xue Yang spat, suddenly discomfited. “Prince,” he added sullenly and hated himself for it.

Xiao Xingchen sighed, then said: “Let's walk a little further, I want to show you something before we lose all light.”

Then he turned his back on Xue Yang, as if he hadn't been listening, as if Xue Yang were nothing. What a fool.

Only, Xue Yang hadn't really stolen a knife or planned to kill the prince, so he just followed.

“To answer your questions, firstly, I might not be as proficient with swords as my guard, but I've still been trained in the martial arts since infancy. And no, I was not expecting you to be grateful. I am not master over your feelings.”

“But you are my master.” Xue Yang couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. “And you'll keep me here, even if I have relations elsewhere-”

Xiao Xingchen stopped abruptly to face Xue Yang again.

“Tell me this: Would your loved ones have preferred for you to hang? Would you have preferred for those who hunted you to have custody over you? Either way, you likely would be dead now and never return home. You don't have to thank me, but I will not justify myself further. It was your choices that led you here.”

There was a sharpness in the prince's tone that had Xue Yang pause even as his hackles rose. Maybe best not to push his luck further.

What for? I won't stay, anyway.

Then, the prince stepped aside, opening up the view. They'd walked up a rise without Xue Yang realising. They were now at its highest point before the grounds dropped off sharply. Much further below there were many houses clustered against the hill and around the road spiralling down into the valley. The lights of the castle town winked up at them like a mirror of the sky or as though they were floating on a cloud.

Beyond the town, on the three sides that weren't the castle hill, dark woods stretched seemingly endlessly.

“The Duchy of Lanling is that way,” Xiao Xingchen said, pointing to part of the forest, voice no longer so sharp. “You came from there, did you not?” He did not wait for a reply. “And next to it, the Kingdom of Qishan.”

When they turned, the castle was black against the blue-gray evening sky. Its towers looked dainty now with their pointy roofs. In the distance behind it, infinitely higher, were mountains, their tops shining white with snow or mist under a waning moon.

For a moment, Xue Yang just stood looking around in something like wonder. Then he suddenly remembered something Meng Yao had told him once.

“I heard there's magic in the mountains of Tian Shan. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen said simply. “Not just the mountains. Maybe you'll even get to see some.”

Xue Yang wouldn't, but perhaps he could also steal some potion ingredients from the castle.

They were halfway back, when the prince suddenly said: “I understand you're not overjoyed at this arrangement. And I did this because I thought it to be right, not to gain something. Nevertheless, perhaps we can help each other.”

Xiao Xingchen was walking slightly ahead of him, so Xue Yang couldn't see his face even in the occasional pools of light from the lanterns.

He huffed a laugh. “How could a lowly criminal such as myself possibly help the Prince of Tian Shan?”

“Time will tell.”

Suddenly, a thought struck Xue Yang. “You wanted a thief. Need anything stolen, my prince?”

To Xue Yang's surprise, Xiao Xingchen laughed, brightly and genuinely.

“No, I have no need of a thief. Anyway, it's getting late. We'll talk more soon, but I'm glad we cleared the air.”

Yeah, right.

Two shadows materialized from under the trees, joining them, their armour glinting faintly. Xue Yang didn't recognise either knight, but they were clearly royal guard.

They were almost back at the castle now, and Xue Yang wondered wearily what else the evening held in store for him. More work and hostility? Or...

“Will I sleep in the dungeons again?”

“Hm? No... Has no one told you?” There was enough light again now that Xue Yang could see the prince quite clearly. He looked serene, yet seemed displeased. “Incidentally, what was that with my sister about earlier?”

“Your sister?” Xue Yang asked, genuinely confused.

“A-Qing. The Princess of Tian Shan. She said you took her apples.”

Xue Yang could feel his stomach sink, the brief calm he felt out on the grounds vanishing rapidly. It didn't help that the two guards were blocking him in again now.

“One apple,” he said quickly. “I missed dinner. Prince.”

He waited, bracing himself for anger he could do nothing to counter, but Xiao Xingchen looked only a little lost. It suddenly occurred to Xue Yang that the prince probably wasn't much older than him.

Then Xiao Xingchen smiled, surprisingly sweetly. “Alright. Soon, we'll talk about your duties. For now, food first, then someone will show you to your chamber.”

It wouldn't last and Xue Yang would never admit this out loud, but for a fleeting moment, he was just a little grateful.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The guardhouse, conveniently located by the gate in the castle's outer wall, was cold and draughty at this time of year, yet Song Lan preferred it to the rooms inside the castle.

It was quiet, bright and bare, and he knew exactly who would be coming and going, namely almost exclusively his fellow guards.

Song Lan, who'd been an orphaned ward of the mountain shrine, had become a page when he was 8 years old and lived in the castle ever since, becoming a squire and eventually a knight. He liked it well enough, had found friends, loved ones, a calling, yet there was something about the artifice of court that had never agreed with him.

He was good at fighting, at riding, at being a scout. Strategy. He quite liked books and studies, too. Politics and diplomacy, on the other hand, were not his forte.

Of course, since he'd been made the captain of Xingchen's guard, a year or so ago, he'd been exposed to more of it. And since the death of the queen...

Well, Song Lan was glad to have an escape, even if he liked his own rooms, relatively new since his promotion and not far from Xingchen's chambers.

Which reminded him. He'd need to talk to Xingchen about instating guards at his doors, too, though likely the prince would refuse.

Currently sitting alone at a table in the guardhouse and absently staring at a map, Song Lan tried to put his finger on what was bothering him these days.

Other than the castle's newest resident, of course.

He'd only seen the menace this morning, actually, at breakfast. Xue Yang had sat by himself, in front of a tapestry depicting a hunting scene. How fitting, Song Lan had thought.

He'd been turned slightly away, presenting his profile. The first ray of the morning sun had fallen through a nearby window, illuminating him, his strong brows, bold nose and high cheekbones.

Pretty as a picture. No wonder he's fooled me.

He wasn't important right now, though. Song Lan tried to get his thoughts in order. It was the palace politics that worried him.

Xingchen was naturally much better at courtly affairs. Luckily, since that would be his life. He also shared many traits with the late queen: a sharp mind, noble values, spirituality, an understanding of the mind of others. Magic.

Yet, not only had Baoshan Sanren's powers been superior – she had been able to hone them for so much longer – but also, she'd been... pragmatic. Detached. Ruthless, even. While Xingchen always wanted to believe the best in people.

Even though he must have realised as well as Song Lan that the mood in the palace had been strange lately. Perhaps it was to be expected, after the regent of decades had passed away suddenly.

Still. Entire apartments inside the castle stood empty as powerful nobles had retreated to their country estates, taking their men-at-arms with them and thus diminishing Tian Shan's military might. Who knows if they'll heed a call to return?

On a more trivial level, officials, minor nobles and even servants jostled for better positions as the court was rearranged, leading to intrigue and bad blood, while the peasant folk needed to be cared for. Honestly, it was all giving Song Lan a headache.

Then, outside their borders, the King of Qishan was sabre-rattling.

With a sigh, Song Lan finally focussed on the map.

Naturally, the royal guard's main objective was to protect the royal family. Some of Tian Shan's regular soldiers were already stationed near the border, however Song Lan had wanted to know first-hand what was going on, hence the frequent patrols.

After all, there had been multiple occasions of Qishan's knights crossing into Tian Shan, clearly testing the response. As well as other strange happenings. He'd have to meet with the generals soon to discuss their joint response.

He traced the outline of Tian Shan with a finger. The north-east was safely guarded by mountains. The only pass there led into Gusu, who remained an ally, albeit a reclusive one. The south-west was a different story.

The city-state of Lanling with its famed golden roofs was led by the notoriously fickle Jin Guangshan, while Qishan's king, Wen Ruohan, was belligerent. Then there were the ungoverned wild lands in between, full of outlaws that nobody had any interest in clearing out. While the land was worthless, the area was fertile ground for recruiting spies and mercenaries, after all.

Song Lan was roused from his reveries by the entry of Luo Qingyang and Jiao Changshun, fellow royal guards and friends both.

They bowed in deference to his rank, before Qingyang stated: “Watch complete; the prince and princess are well. The prince requests your presence in the stables at noon.”

Song Lan had nodded at the first part, well-aware already of who'd taken over the shift. At the second part, he felt sudden joy, then shame.

His task was to keep Xingchen safe. He shouldn't let his personal emotions interfere with that. It had come to the point where Song Lan worried about his abilities in that regard, but at the same time, he also hated to give this vital job to anyone else and almost felt snubbed whenever Xingchen chose a different knight.

Truly, how can I look down on the jostling nobles and officials, when I myself behave so childish and lovelorn?

Changshun, a grizzled knight who Song Lan had in fact squired for, cleared his throat and nodded to the map. “Do we think there'll be war then?”

“With Qishan?” Qingyang, who was a seasoned knight but also a mother looked upset. “Ancestors, I hope not. I thought that was why Count Daoren is on a visit there.”

“He's in Lanling,” Song Lan said, then sighed. “Even so, the Jin won't help us.”

The late queen's younger brother, Yanling Daoren, was a knight, a sorcerer and a masterful diplomat, but Song Lan wagered even he couldn't pull off a miracle. Besides, though he'd never say so out loud, especially not within earshot of Xingchen, who loved his uncle, the man tended to take things too lightly.

“Anyway, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it.”

Both Changshun and Qingyang nodded.

Judging by the light and the watch schedule that he himself had drawn up, it was almost noon. Song Lan got up to stretch.

“You can both get some rest now. Just... I take it there was nothing out of the ordinary?”

Changshun merely shook his head, but Qingyang knew what Song Lan was getting at.

“Do not worry, captain, I don't think he's a spy.”

“Who?” Changshun looked puzzled.

“The delinquent,” Song Lan said, at the same time as Qingyang said: “Xue Yang.”

“Ah.” Changshun nodded. “Agreed, I don't think he's a spy.”

Song Lan could feel himself frown. “What makes you say that so decisively?”

Qingyang laughed. “Well, for a start, surely a spy would try to ingratiate himself, not provoke everyone he meets.”

Song Lan snorted. “It could be part of his master plan. Or he could be a stupid spy.”

Qingyang shook her head. “He's not stupid. Wen Qing mentioned he's been assisting her in the past few days; he's even got experience with potions and such.”

This was the first bit of good news Song Lan had in a while.

“So he's now assigned to be Wen Qing's servant? She's wanted help for a while.” Probably not like this, but...

“Oh no, the prince has just been too busy to fill him in,” Qingyang clarified. Song Lan carefully did not show his displeasure, but she added: “Really, it makes sense. Everyone is wary of the prince's proposal to redeem criminals in this way, so him leading by example with his own servant will put everyone at ease.”

Annoyingly, it did make sense. Song Lan didn't have to like it, though.

She left with another bow. Changshun sat down at the table, opposite to where Song Lan still stood, lost in thought.

“You were there when we met the lad,” Changshun said. “How could all of that have been staged? Whatever else he lied about, he was in dire need of help. He's a lout for sure, but a spy? Unlikely.”

A murderer, too, but Changshun likely would only repeat what even Xingchen had said. Most of the knights had been to war, had killed, even if a war was different.

“What's on your mind, Lan'er?” Changshun asked, then looked abashed. “Sorry, I shouldn't call you that any more. Captain.”

Song Lan quickly shook his head. “It's alright, shifu. And I don't know. I just feel like something bad is going to happen.”

Changshun looked pensive, then shrugged. “You've said it yourself. If so, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The sky over the woods was a bright blue, sunlight streaming through the mostly barren trees, though the evergreens formed shady patches.

The air smelled of fallen leaves and pine needles. The only sounds were hoofbeat, birds, and the wind in the treetops.

The horses seemed to enjoy their little outing as much as Song Lan did, even if it was still duty. Best of all, Xingchen looked happier than he had in a long while, too.

The prince did not wear white for once, but dark, simple clothes with a green cloak on top. Song Lan, too, had changed out of his livery. Even so, had they been going further than the woods around the castle town, Song Lan would have insisted on a proper escort for him.

This was a battle for another day, though; this one had turned out too beautiful to ruin with worries and disagreements.

They'd been riding down the road through the town in companionable silence and mostly undisturbed, though some people had recognised their prince and bowed in deference, but then went about their business again.

Now, in the deserted woods, Xingchen brought his horse level with Song Lan's.

“I'm sorry, Zichen,” he started, then went quiet.

Song Lan looked at him, surprised. “Whatever for?”

“I was a brat, that time in my rooms, and I told you we'd talk soon. That was well over a week ago.”

“You weren't a brat, I crossed a line-”

“Zichen, please, don't. I don't need for everyone to walk on eggshells around me.”

“I'm not, clearly,” Song Lan said. “In fact, if it makes you happy, I still disagree with you about that Xue Yang.”

Xingchen huffed a laugh. “It does not make me happy, but thank you for your honesty.”

Song Lan sighed. “Let's just agree to disagree, then?”

“Agreed.” Xingchen giggled. “You have to admit, though, he hasn't burned down the castle yet. I also find him refreshing.”

“I'm sure it wasn't for lack of wanting to,” Song Lan muttered darkly.

Xingchen only laughed again.

The sound was so sweet, Song Lan almost didn't mind the reason. Though it rankled, that the delinquent of all people was making Xingchen laugh like this.

“Also, you haven't actually employed him as your servant yet. Though I hear Wen Qing seems to get along with him well enough,” Song Lan added grudgingly.

“Indeed. In any case, I wanted to talk with you and check on the wards, so I'm glad we got this opportunity to do both,” Xingchen said, looking over with a smile.

He was facing forward again before Song Lan could smile back. He could, however, still answer nicely. Even if charm wasn't his strong suit, either.

“I'm sorry, too. You know there has been a lot going on. But this is nice. Like the olden days.”

“How old are you, lao-yeye?” Xingchen teased. “The olden days, when we were 16?”

Even Song Lan had to laugh.

His laughter died down again at Xingchen's next words.

“Speaking of being 16, jiujiu thinks a-Qing is old enough to marry. He suggested a match with one of the Wen princes.”

Taken aback, Song Lan shortened his reins too much and Fuxue threw his head, slowing down. Song Lan let the reins slide through his fingers and urged his steed on again.

“I'm certain at least one of them is married already. Anyway, what does the princess say?”

“She is open to the possibility, though I think she'd prefer a different kingdom to Qishan. Besides, I think she's too young.”

Song Lan breathed out in relief.

“Also, Wen Qing advised against it,” Xingchen added.

“Well, there you have it then.”

Wen Qing, her brother, and other family members had been refugees after a rift inside the Wen dynasty. While they still kept ties to their home kingdom, multiple generations of the family had now served Tian Shan faithfully.

“Jiujiu has a point, though. Mother tried to build ties there, too, but Cangse-jie married for love, as was her right. And I can't very well do it; even if the Wen would consider a male consort, I can't leave Tian Shan.” Xingchen sighed. “Anyway, this is not your concern, I'll talk to jiujiu upon his return. It's just been on my mind.”

“You can always share things with me, Xingxing, you know that, right? I'll guard your secrets with my life.”

Song Lan meant it, too, though he would guard nothing as well as Xingchen's life.

“I'd rather you'd not die for my secrets, my knight.” Xingchen sounded wry.

They'd reached the spot, and Xingchen slowed his dapple-grey mare to a halt.

Song Lan looked around attentively, but didn't notice anything untoward. After a brief pause at the disturbance, the birdsong resumed around them.

Xingchen had already slid down from his horse; Song Lan dismounted as well. They tied the horses to a tree, though they wouldn't go far or stay long.

The protective wards around the castle hill were old magic, supposedly able to stop a hostile army and laid long before either of them had been born. They needed to be charged every so often, though. Once in decades, it was a whole ritual, otherwise, an individual's magic would suffice.

It had to be a specific kind of magic, though, tied to the land and honed through practice and guidance. The magic that ran in the royal family, both through its bloodline and in those that had been selected as children to become part of it, because of their magic. Such as Xingchen.

Though he'd seen it more than once, Song Lan watched in awe as the prince, cloak discarded, eyes closed and hands outstretched, channelled his magic.

It whirled from his fingers to the old, moss-covered ward stones, a stream of silver-white light.

Song Lan could suddenly smell the scent of crisp, freshly-fallen snow, could feel the current, icy and crackling with power, even at a distance. The light settled on stones and around trees, giving everything a sparkly sheen. A thin line, burning silver, appeared on the forest floor, running in each direction away from them. Forming a circle, though only a sliver of it was visible.

Suddenly, the light flared and vanished. Xingchen gasped.

Song Lan unfroze immediately, catching him before he could fall.

For a long moment, they stood, Xingchen slumped against Song Lan's chest, his head leaned back against Song Lan's shoulder, Song Lan's arms the only thing holding him upright.

The woods were very still now, no birds or wind, no sign of magic. The air felt colder and even the sunlight seemed to have dimmed.

Xingchen, too, felt cold when Song Lan reached for his hands. He was pale and breathing heavily, though the latter was reassuring. Even having seen this happen before, Song Lan would have been terrified had his friend been silent.

He could hear the horses whicker nervously behind them.

To Song Lan's horror, a thin stream of blood trickled from Xingchen's nose. He didn't have his hands free to reach for a handkerchief, but Xingchen just absently wiped at it, slowly coming back to life.

He laughed hoarsely. “Seems I overdid it a little.”

“Let's get you back. Wen Qing will give you one of her potions.”

“In a moment.” Xingchen huddled back into Song Lan. He was shaking with cold. “You're so warm.”

What was Song Lan to do? He put his arms around Xingchen, holding him so tight he could feel his heartbeat.

“I'm so glad you're here with me,” Xingchen said dreamily, clearly still out of it.

Even while he was worried for him, even while he felt guilty at taking advantage of Xingchen's state in a way, Song Lan couldn't help but grow warm inside at these words. Couldn't help but cherish this moment, the closeness, the quiet around them.

In a few months, Xingchen would be the King of Tian Shan. He'd marry, not for love, but to produce an heir or, if he chose to adopt, to form an alliance. He'd live for his country.

Song Lan would be his knight, and either forget these feelings or bury them. Perhaps he'd die for Xingchen.

Either way, this might well be the last moment where he had Xingchen all to himself.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Xue Yang had thought a mountain kingdom such as Tian Shan would be cold and snowy in winter.

Even the wild lands, some hours ride to the south, had been cold already, almost a moon's turn ago, after all. Yet, the weather that had settled in recently was only a horrible kind of wet.

Rain fell heavily, running noisily down the gutters. The cold damp seeped through the windows and seemingly the stone itself. There was never enough light. It made him miss Lanling even more with its busy, lantern-lit alleyways, its gleaming roofs.

From his room, he couldn't even see as far as the town now, only the grounds; everything else was obscured by low-hanging clouds. Not even his precious pendant was sparkling in the light. At least not without a candle.

Still, Xue Yang was no longer filled with pure, incandescent rage at this kingdom. It was actually confusing.

To be clear, he hadn't made his peace with his situation. Xue Yang still hated being a servant, hated especially the righteous knight who'd brought him here, hated the vapid castle inhabitants, the stupid servant's clothes, hated that he wasn't allowed to come and go as he pleased.

His room wasn't anything special, either, though he had to admit it was comfortable. He'd been surprised by the view, when he'd first been brought to sleep here instead of the dungeon. He liked watching the castle town from above on a clear day.

The food, now that he'd made it to dinner regularly, was also rather good. It wasn't fine cuisine like he'd been served the few times he'd eaten at Jinlin Tai, but as such it was actually better. Hearty, filling fare. There was always enough.

Perhaps, if he'd made his way to Tian Shan's castle sooner – as a small street urchin, say – he'd have even liked it.

Perhaps then everything would have turned out different.

While he was on the topic, perhaps Xue Yang shouldn't have taken so many things on that fateful night, during his last foray as a thief. Maybe he would have saved himself some grief. A person had to make a living though, and not rely solely on the Jin.

No use crying over spilled milk.

Anyway, Xue Yang had no time for regrets. He had an escape to plan. Then of course, there were his chores, his time divided between the prince and the chief healer.

If he were inclined to be fair, which he wasn't, he'd have to admit that neither overworked him. Even so, it seemed there were few idle hours for anyone in the castle.

On one such rainy day, Xue Yang was summoned into a study, adjacent to an audience chamber.

This had happened several times already, always ending with the prince giving him some inconsequential task. It almost seemed like a game they played, except no one bothered to explain the rules to him.

Whether game, trial or trap, however, there had been neither clear victory nor defeat so far.

As Xue Yang was nearing the audience chamber today, a meeting of officials and nobles was apparently just disbanding.

They'd left the chamber in relative silence, but as they walked up the long corridor towards him, one of them said something, becoming more agitated as he spoke. Others soon chimed in.

Xue Yang, who'd never had any interest in the games that high lords played, was set on ignoring them, but he wasn't deaf.

“...what is the prince thinking, to raise the taxes on estates? Ease the peasants' load, he says? What about ours?” A noisy fellow exclaimed.

Someone shushed him, but another voice piped up. “He's got a point, but now of all times, we have to prepare for war-”

“Some of it will go towards our defences,” a calmer voice cut in.

“As if! That Wen King won't go through with it and Count Daoren will sort it anyway...” That was the first speaker again.

Someone spotted Xue Yang then, and nudged the loudest of the bunch.

Suspicious silence descended as they passed him. Xue Yang had to bite his lip to hide his amusement.

As if I actually cared about this court and might snitch.

He wasn't surprised, however. While nobody was willing to share secrets with him just yet, Xue Yang had overheard and noticed things.

Xiao Xingchen was well-loved by many, but some people seemed to think he was going about things the wrong way. Upending the existing order and all that.

The typical talk of elders and nobles in general, always fighting innovation instead of embracing it or simply retiring and enjoying their riches.

And strangely, though Xue Yang had no intention of truly serving Xingchen loyally, he felt compelled to defend him, if only in his own mind. While he clearly didn't agree with the man's strange way of dealing with criminals, it was inspired in its own way.

The stuffy group was soon forgotten, though, when he was let into the study by another of Xingchen's many servants.

Xue Yang wandered in with a “my prince”, but no bow.

Xiao Xingchen glanced up absently from where he was sitting at a desk, with stacks of papers, a quill and a pot of tea, then seemed to get absorbed again, while the other servant did gods knew what and Xue Yang shifted on his feet restlessly.

After what felt like an hour, Xue Yang couldn't take it any more.

“The faster you tell me what to do, sire, the faster I can do it.”

Xiao Xingchen huffed a laugh, but the other servant stared at Xue Yang in horror.

“You can't talk to the prince like that! Apologize at once!” He reached out a hand as though to either smack Xue Yang or force him into a bow, but Xiao Xingchen shook his head, serious again.

“It's alright, a-Tong,” he said. “He's still learning. You may leave us. Thank you.”

The prince's voice was gentle. Somehow it was worse than indignation would have been. Xue Yang didn't know what to do with it.

A-Tong left with a deep bow, still looking scandalized.

Xue Yang was suddenly feeling spicy like a feral alley cat. “Is it really alright, er-ge? Aren't you regretting yet that you chose this unworthy one for a servant?”

Xiao Xingchen burst into laughter. It had clearly caught him by surprise, because he snorted in a rather undignified manner, which seemed to make him laugh more.

Xue Yang could only look on in consternation.

“Whoever is da-ge in this scenario?” Xiao Xingchen asked, when he'd collected himself again. “And how old are you, anyway? I've wondered for a while now.”

He wondered about my age?

“That knight,” Xue Yang muttered, completely confused. Out of nowhere, he could feel himself blush. He hadn't meant to say that.

“Speak up,” Xiao Xingchen ordered. Clearly, he could be commanding when he wanted to. “What knight?”

For some reason, Xue Yang actually complied. “Knight Song. I called him da-ge, the night he abducted me. I guess it stuck.” Then he remembered the second part of the question. “I'm 23.”

“I think we both know that my knights did not, in fact, abduct you.” Xiao Xingchen gave him a pointed look. “However, you are indeed younger than me. I'm 25.”

Not that much younger.

He was still standing rather awkwardly in front of the desk. It was very quiet. Xue Yang suddenly shivered, he wasn't sure why really, but the prince seemed to draw his own conclusions.

He got up to close a window Xue Yang hadn't even noticed was open.

As though it mattered if Xue Yang were cold.

Xue Yang felt strangely wrong-footed yet again, but refused to submit to the feeling.

“So can I call you ge, then?”

Xiao Xingchen sat down again and looked at Xue Yang evenly until he started fidgeting under the scrutiny.

“I actually don't mind if you call me Xingchen-ge,” Xiao Xingchen said eventually. “However, you must address me as prince when in the presence of others. You'll also have to bow in public and refrain from talking back, or there might be unpleasant consequences. This may come as a surprise, but I do not make all the rules here.”

Xue Yang valiantly tamped down a response – he hated being patronized - but he'd never been that good at hiding his emotions.

Xiao Xingchen laughed softly, a sweet sound. “We'll work up to it, don't worry.”

Xue Yang hadn't been worried, but felt put at ease anyway. It was actually disconcerting, how Xiao Xingchen somehow managed to disarm all of his hard-won defences.

The prince seemed blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil he was causing. “Do sit. You may take tea as well, if you wish.”

Xue Yang did; it was nice to have something to do with his hands. The tea was warm and fragrant; the cup delicate and pretty. Expensive, no doubt.

Instead of finally getting to the point, Xiao Xingchen suddenly said: “You seem to dislike courtesies, however, even if you were no servant, you surely must have held some work other than thieving?”

Now it was Xue Yang's turn to huff a surprised laugh. “Must I? I mean no disrespect, truly, but I don't think you know how people live.”

Sure, Xue Yang had called Meng Yao gongzi, had acted deferential when he visited anyone at Jinlin Tai, but he'd only pretended to be a courtier.

Besides, Meng Yao does know how people live.

It made Xue Yang miss him, even if their relationship was fraught. These weren't things Xiao Xingchen needed to know though.

Besides, long ago, Xue Yang had believed in courtesies, in respecting his elders and the nobility of Kuizhou.

A lot of good it's done me.

The prince looked thoughtful, then half-shrugged, half-nodded, as though acknowledging Xue Yang's point.

“Alright. Here.” He pointed to a stack of documents on the table. “These are petitions by the populace and my notes to each. They've gotten mixed up, please sort them by theme of the request, so the right officials can deal with the matter.”

Apparently, Xue Yang looked confused, because the prince smiled.

“Don't worry, if you're unsure or you get it wrong the officials will sort it themselves, but this will save time. These are not secret, so you may complete them in the audience chamber and leave them there.”

Of course they weren't secret. Xiao Xingchen, Xue Yang had learned, was many things. Maybe a little trusting. Stupid, however, wasn't one of them.

Xue Yang nodded. He was about to get up, when his eyes fell on the quill next to Xiao Xingchen's elegant hands.

“Xingchen-ge... my prince. Would you allow me to write a letter? As I mentioned, there are people who miss me.”

A-Yu will, even if Meng Yao might be mostly annoyed.

Xiao Xingchen seemed to consider for only a moment, then gave a tiny smile. “It should be possible. Of course your letter and its recipients will have to be revealed to my advisors.”

Damn. Not stupid, indeed. Still. Maybe Xue Yang could write a coded message, though probably, Meng Yao wouldn't want to be associated with a criminal this publicly.

He gave a fake smile. “Of course.”

Xue Yang was on his way out, sheaf of papers in hand, when Xiao Xingchen called to him again.

There was mischief in the prince's eyes and voice when he asked: “If you may call me ge sometimes, does this mean I may call you a-Yang?”

For no reason whatsoever, Xue Yang's face suddenly felt warm, even as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, why not, Xingchen-ge.”

As he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of Xingchen-ge's face. His smile was almost a smirk now. It looked good on him.

It was the strangest thing, really. The prince seemed to enjoy wrong-footing Xue Yang, but in such a gentle way without malice that Xue Yang couldn't even mind.

Even stranger was that in spite of everything, Xue Yang didn't hate or even dislike him. Maybe it was magic, but somehow, it was easy to feel good around Xiao Xingchen.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Here was another strange thing: Xue Yang didn't hate Wen Qing, either. Not only that, he quite enjoyed working for her.

Meng Yao had sometimes let him practice potion-making, but mostly, he'd needed a thief. Now, Xue Yang was an excellent thief and he'd always relished the thrill of it, but this was new and interesting. Even better, Xue Yang seemed to have a knack for it, though he, unlike Wen Qing, had no magic.

Unfortunately, it did involve a fair amount of reading, something Xue Yang still struggled with when it was more than an inventory or simple petition. The dense tomes full of unfamiliar words could get rather tiring.

So, on another rainy day, rather than do the task Wen Qing had given him, Xue Yang was pacing the potions laboratory.

He was feeling restless and on edge, though he liked the laboratory, a long room with work tables and equipment. It was always brightly lit and there was always a fire in the hearth, because potions and medicines needed heat.

Herbs hung in gauzy bags from beams to dry, their sharp, medicinal smell filling the space. The room's windows afforded no view, but all along the walls there were chests of drawers and shelves full of books, countless vials and jars. Everything was carefully labelled.

Xue Yang had early on switched some vials around for fun and ended up thinking he might hang for that. He'd not done it again. It had vastly improved his working relationship with the chief healer.

He also had been careful not to steal anything. I'll do that when I'm leaving.

Which he would, just as soon as the weather – and his plan - improved. For now, Xue Yang had decided it was better to follow the rules, thereby lulling his captors into a false sense of safety.

“Why are you prowling like a caged tiger instead of doing your reading?” Wen Qing asked, sweeping in between one of her sickbed visits in the palace or town, or whatever it was she was doing when he wasn't allowed to follow her.

“I can't go outside, remember, jiejie?” Xue Yang said. “It's not healthy to be cooped up all day. You should know this, as a healer.”

She had been outside, he noticed with envy. She'd thrown a cloak over her dress and it was trailing water. More droplets were glittering like pearls in her carefully braided-up hair.

“So you know I'm a healer. I only wonder, because you keep addressing me as jiejie rather than by my title.”

Wen Qing sounded tired and irritable. She started taking things out of her apothecary's chest, then threw a glance over at him.

Xue Yang smiled his sunniest smile. “Aw, here I thought we were friends, jiejie. But if milady wanted assistance, I might have accompanied her. Oh, wait, you won't fucking let me.”

They both knew it wasn't her choice, but Xue Yang was sick of being in the castle and not above taking it out on the wrong person. Especially since the right person was out of reach.

Wen Qing stopped what she was doing to give him her full attention, narrowing her eyes at him.

Though Xue Yang wasn't usually interested in women, he had to admit that she was beautiful as well as smart and formidable. Nevertheless, though he could appreciate these qualities in her, she was yet another person who held power over him.

She'd been quite reasonable with him from the start, unlike other people. Still, maybe someday he'd cross a line without realising. Xiao Xingchen clearly valued her opinion, not without reason. Xue Yang would be back in the dungeon at best.

It made something dangerously close to rage simmer in him again. Dangerously close to despair. Maybe he would cross a line, by breaking every single vial here.

Or maybe not, because it would end worse for me than for anyone else.

Wen Qing looked away with a sigh and Xue Yang's troubled emotions calmed a little.

“Could you mop up the water, please? I have patients to look after and even if I was allowed to take you with me, I wouldn't. Your bedside manner is atrocious.”

She looked back at him, her expression softer now.

“But you're right, since you can't help me with the visits and you're clearly bored out of your wits here, you might as well leave after that. Take the afternoon off.”

“Well, what about the reading?” Xue Yang said, because he couldn't just let everyone place him like a game piece and then act all grateful about it.

Wen Qing rolled her eyes.

“Do whatever you want, then. Leave the castle for all I care. Just don't come crying to me when they drag you back.”

She was already at the door when she turned back again.

“You know, you'd leave so much quicker here if only you'd stop fighting every step of the way. Even the good things. Especially those.”

As though that makes any kind of sense.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The potions laboratory was on a lower floor of the castle, while Xue Yang's room was higher up.

He'd already climbed a few flights of stairs – staying out of sight on the hidden stairwells, like a proper servant or a proper thief – when a thought suddenly struck him: No one expects me anywhere right now or even knows where I am.

For a little while, he was his own master again, free to do as he pleased.

Well, as long as he didn't leave, but he wasn't going to let it spoil this moment. Maybe Qing-jie has a point after all. The dark, oppressive stone walls around Xue Yang seemed to open up, albeit not literally.

How can I use this time? Perhaps go to the kitchens?

Xue Yang hadn't exactly made friends, but the other castle inhabitants tolerated him now. At least, he was no longer the talk of the palace and no one seemed to think he'd murder them in their sleep any more.

Some of the maids and cooks were rather nice, actually. One of them was Wen Qing's grandmother, whose temper was much sweeter than hers. Plus, the cakes they sometimes had going spare in the kitchens could brighten up any gloomy day.

However, Xue Yang really needed to work on his escape route. While he knew his way about the castle much better, he still hadn't made it further than the grounds. He'd only ever seen the stables from afar.

Finally, he decided he could combine the two.

Having successfully pilfered a sugary bun from the kitchens, he strayed about therefore, peeking into various halls and corridors. Some of those he probably wasn't supposed to be in, but Xue Yang didn't care.

Now that he felt no longer so exposed, he was also able to notice things about the palace and its residents.

At first, the place had seemed more ascetic and serious than the opulent, frivolous Jinlin Tai.

However, the more time he spent here, the more he realised it wasn't all that different. He knew how much Meng Yao had to fight as his father's illegitimate son, the backstabbing and social climbing that was going on.

Here, too, he saw the factions, groups of people displaying themselves like peacocks or either fawning over or snubbing each other. Though it did seem quieter than Jinlin Tai.

Perhaps because they're mourning their queen?

He'd taken the sweeping, well-lit main stairway with its ornamental stone bannisters, defiantly, since he was definitely not supposed to be here, only to see a large party arrive in the antechamber to the great hall at the bottom of it.

Xue Yang retreated far enough that he couldn't be seen immediately, then craned his head past some pillars to get a good look.

Whoever it was caused quite the commotion. Some of the princess' ladies-in-waiting were lurking in a similar manner to him, only downstairs, staring at someone and giggling behind their fans.

It seemed most of the people in the throng were in fact servants of the castle or people in a similar livery, meaning likely that an inhabitant had returned.

Xue Yang didn't care about more members of the local nobility, but perhaps he was just starved for novelty, because he curiously searched for the person in question.

When Xue Yang finally spotted them, he initially only saw a richly embroidered, fur-lined cloak, glittering with threads of gold and silver. When the person turned, Xue Yang saw that it was a man, tall like apparently most nobles here, excluding the princess, with a handsome, chiselled face.

Not as handsome as Xiao Xingchen or even Song Lan (whatever else Xue Yang thought of the man), but the ladies seemed to disagree with him.

Perhaps this man is just an eligible bachelor, high-ranking but less lofty than a prince.

He also couldn't help but notice that the man was handing out coins to the servants left, right, and centre, all while apparently laughing and joking jovially with everyone.

It had nothing to do with Xue Yang, yet somehow, the man's appearance rubbed him the wrong way. However, he was rapidly losing interest. Until it occurred to him that the commotion could work in his favour.

So, he quickly went down the servant's stairs, into the heaving great hall where no one paid any attention to him.

It was easy then, to slip out, though not through the main doors, which were closed again and guarded besides – Xue Yang thought he saw Qingyang and that older, grizzled guard fellow.

Instead, he found himself in the gardens. Even under the eaves, it was drizzling, while out in the open it was more of a downpour. The fresh air was bracing though, the wind in his face, the open view of the sweeping grounds.

The sweet scent of the air, like on that first morning here in the dungeon.

Well, he'd survived that day and many more.

Isn't that something to celebrate?

Even so, Xue Yang was getting frustrated. He should have figured a way out by now. He'd always found a way out. Up to that fateful night, that is.

Yet, he'd never anticipated to have to become a military expert. After all, a castle was fortified in such a way as to keep enemies out. Or, apparently, captives in.

How am I supposed to escape through one gate guarded by dozens of knights? How am I supposed to descend a steep hill, if not on its one open road?

Unless he found large barrels that were carried out. Maybe he could roll himself up in a rug.

Lost in thought, Xue Yang had moved away from the castle wall, though he'd taken care to stay close to the trees rather than cutting across the lawn.

He was nevertheless startled when he saw two other people outside, not too far from him, coming down the rise with the view over the valley.

One person was very clearly Xiao Xingchen, walking in the gardens in spite of the weather. There was someone walking next to him, holding a white umbrella over them both.

Carrying an umbrella was a servant's job. The person stood rather too close, though, under the umbrella themselves. Even though Xue Yang couldn't see their face, they also looked familiar.

Song Lan.

Xue Yang watched the two of them, sheltering against the rain together, the prince's hand almost touching the knight's, the knight's large hand steadying the prince at one point, familiarly placed against the man's lower back.

Which could only mean one thing. Well, well, well.

Not that Xue Yang quite knew what to do with the information.

He'd planned to take cover under the trees until they'd passed him, but Song Lan lifted the umbrella abruptly, looking right to where Xue Yang was standing.

Xue Yang froze, which was just as well, because there wasn't anything to be done, now that he'd been spotted.

The knight had clearly said something to the prince; they changed course sharply, walking up to Xue Yang.

They were both so tall and serious-looking yet also handsome. It sent a strange kind of thrill down his spine that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Xue Yang didn't say anything and neither did Song Lan. The latter only glared at him coldly, as he was wont to do.

Xiao Xingchen asked: “Shouldn't you be helping the chief healer?”

“I was finished for the day; I wanted to take the air.”

There was a pause.

“Alright then. Take the umbrella from Zichen.” The prince's voice and face were calm, but Xue Yang got the clear sense that he was displeased.

It also took Xue Yang a long moment to realise who Zichen was, by which time the knight had already thrust the umbrella at him rather aggressively.

Xiao Xingchen turned on his heel, walking back the way he'd come from. Bemused, Xue Yang hadn't followed, standing there with the umbrella.

“You're supposed to hold it over the prince,” Song Lan told him, voice much calmer than Xue Yang had expected, though the knight's expression was grim.

“I'm not stupid, I know,” Xue Yang hissed, scrambling to catch up.

Xiao Xingchen didn't seem bothered at getting rained on, but he waited for Xue Yang to follow.

“Should I accompany you or wait for you here, my prince?” Song Lan asked.

Xue Yang almost told him not to stand on ceremony on his account, but he bit back the words just in time.

Better to use this information wisely.

“No need, Zichen.”

“Are you certain? The grounds are deserted, an attack would be easy.”

Ha! Didn't I say that already, ages ago?

The prince looked exasperated. “I'll be fine. A-Yang?”

So, he could call Xue Yang that in public? Of course.

Xue Yang followed Xiao Xingchen. When he looked around, however, the knight still stood by the castle wall, watching them.

“No one said I wasn't allowed to go into the gardens,” Xue Yang pointed out, once they were out of earshot from Song Lan and the silence had grown oppressive.

“I thought you understood that you have to ask for permission, not assume it,” Xiao Xingchen said after a moment, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. “I also told you that not everything is down to me, no? People here know you were a thief, that you might have killed someone. Some would have preferred for you to be executed.”

“So sorry to inconvenience you by my mere existence,” Xue Yang said, not sorry in the slightest. “You could let me go, if I'm such a bother.”

Xiao Xingchen stopped abruptly to look at him.

For some unknown reason, Xue Yang was holding the umbrella over him.

Maybe because of Xiao Xingchen's thin, lacy clothes. He'll catch death like that.

They were standing further apart than Xingchen and Song Lan had however; as a result, Xue Yang was getting rained on.

“Do you still not understand?” the prince asked. “I'll be alright. It's you I'm worried about.”

Xue Yang scoffed. “I was doing perfectly fine until I met you people.”

“Sure, right, you were only getting hunted with hounds.”

For a moment, Xue Yang just stared at him, dumb-founded at this new side of the prince. Well, he'd interrupted their afternoon delight; perhaps that explained it.

As he watched, he suddenly noticed a faint white light around the prince, emanating from his hands. Xue Yang knew what it was immediately, instinctively, though he hadn't ever seen anything quite like it. Magic.

He took a startled step back, and the prince looked abashed. Moments later, the flickering light disappeared.

“It's not dangerous, I wouldn't have hurt you,” he said.

Xue Yang found that he believed the latter. The former, he wasn't so sure about. In any case, hadn't he thought from the beginning that there was something magical about the prince?

Still, he was done with it all. “So this is retribution?”

“Retribution?”

“For being outside without permission.” Xue Yang's disgust at the word was evident. “After all, I'm the only one getting rained on.”

“I thought you wanted to take the air.” Xiao Xingchen's voice was still a little sharp.

After a moment in which Xue Yang had to fight to not snap, the prince sighed.

“Let's go back inside then.” Then he muttered: “Though it isn't healthy to be cooped up all day.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The next morning after breakfast in the great hall, Xue Yang was summoned to the prince's personal chambers.

He half-suspected it had still to do with his apparently forbidden visit to the gardens, though it was hard to tell.

Yesterday, while he'd been strongly advised to retire to his room, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan had gone off together.

Perhaps they fucked and Xiao Xingchen will be happy again now.

Loath as Xue Yang was to admit it, he could see what the prince saw in the knight.

Perhaps Xue Yang had contemplated the matter too hard, actually, last night in bed. Perhaps he'd touched himself while doing so, stroking himself off.

In his defence, it had been a while. What with everything going on, the shock of it all, his desire to just find a way to escape, he hadn't been in the mood.

Of course, fantasies these would remain. He didn't even like Song Lan, and while Xiao Xingchen had grown on him, he couldn't lose sight of who the man was and what he'd done.

Besides, surely neither of them would ever lower themselves to bed some criminal.

So while his feelings about being summoned were conflicted, he'd never been to Xiao Xingchen's personal chambers. He was a little curious, to find out how royalty lived, away from prying eyes.

Though really, royals are not so special. No doubt they still bleed red and their shit most certainly doesn't smell of roses.

Naturally, the prince dwelled high up in one of the towers. Xiao Xingchen actually opened the door himself, letting Xue Yang in.

The rain had finally ceased, and the princely chambers were flooded with sunlight, one of the windows thrown open in spite of the cold. They looked out towards the mountains, which today seemed within grasp. The sky above them sparkled blue as sapphires.

The room was still quite warm, since of course a fire crackled in the fireplace.

Otherwise, it did not look so different from the chambers of ordinary mortals. It was actually a bit messy. Though there were many books and some nice things, like fine vases and even binoculars. Xue Yang's fingers were itching just a little.

Meng Yao probably would enjoy the books. Maybe I could get a small keepsake for a-Yu.

Xiao Xingchen seemed distracted again today. Tense. Not like a man who'd gotten laid. Xue Yang was disappointed in Song Lan.

At least the prince also didn't seem to hold a grudge about Xue Yang's mistake, so that was good.

“I need you to help me put on my armour,” Xiao Xingchen said, interrupting his thoughts. “For a formal ride into town.”

While Xue Yang had done many servant tasks by now, this came as a surprise. Xiao Xingchen had other people for that, surely. Probably, Song Lan could help him. The man wore chain mail constantly.

“I have never put on armour, Xingchen-ge,” Xue Yang said truthfully.

Xiao Xingchen smiled. Xue Yang hadn't realised how much he'd missed his smile after yesterday.

“It's not hard if you do it for someone else,” Xiao Xingchen said.

How would you know? Xue Yang did not ask.

Instead, he followed Xingchen through another door into another chamber. This one held a canopy bed with heavy drapes, dark blue like the night sky with silver threads like stars. Being here felt shockingly intimate, though as it turned out, not as intimate as putting on armour.

Xue Yang followed Xingchen's instructions, fetching the armour, putting it on the prince.

Xiao Xingchen had an otherworldly quality about him, but this close, he was decidedly human.

Strangely, rather than profane, it somehow made him more wondrous.

He was still so pretty, and he smelled of citrus and spices, just a little. His body, when Xue Yang brushed against him while fastening straps and buckles, was warm.

He was patient and gentle again, making the work go easily indeed.

Afterwards, they went back into the first chamber, where a cat stretched luxuriously on the window seat.

Absently, Xue Yang reached out to pet it, then withdrew his hand, suddenly uncertain.

“She's friendly,” Xingchen said, then asked: “Do you like cats?”

“Who doesn't like cats?” The cat was friendly, immediately starting to purr.

Suddenly, Xue Yang sneezed; perhaps it was the cat fur.

There was probably some rule against sneezing in a royal's chambers, but Xingchen only looked at him wide-eyed.

“Did you catch cold yesterday? I'm sorry, I had forgotten that you hail from a more southern kingdom. I shouldn't have kept you outdoors in that weather.”

Xue Yang laughed and Xingchen looked startled.

Have I laughed that little here?

Xue Yang couldn't help but grin at the prince. “I'm not that delicate. But it's sweet of you to worry, Xingchen-ge.”

He could have sworn the prince looked flustered.

They actually chatted for a bit after that, and when Xue Yang left the royal chambers later, he couldn't help but wonder whether Xiao Xingchen really treated every servant like this.

Or whether the man had even wanted a servant. Perhaps he'd wanted a friend.

Though it seemed unlikely. After all, there were his relatives and advisors, Wen Qing and Xingchen's neglectful lover Song Lan.

Why choose a criminal, then? Then again, what else could he have meant when he said, maybe we could help each other?

Whatever the truth of it was, Xue Yang had never met anyone like Xiao Xingchen, and the fact that he was a prince was the least of what made him special.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Breakfast was served early in the great hall.

The golden glow of the sunrise could be seen even through the milky window panes, the chandeliers were lit and in each of the hall's hearth a fire crackled merrily. Yet, the air was frigid.

Song Lan didn't normally attend, preferring to avoid company until he'd woken up properly. Luckily, it wasn't busy today.

Anyway, breakfast was less formal than dinner, unless there were visitors or the regent chose to make it a grand affair.

If Song Lan had come in the hopes of seeing Xingchen, however, he'd be sorely disappointed. After all, Xingchen rarely attended.

Perhaps he ought to.

Of course everyone knew that Xingchen was mourning the queen, although Song Lan also knew that his relationship to his adoptive mother had been rather distant. Baoshan Sanren had not been a person one could get close to.

However, Song Lan wondered if some nobles felt slighted because they saw the prince only sporadically. It wasn't his place to advise Xingchen on courtly matters, though. As things stood, Xingchen hadn't even accepted guards at his chambers.

Perhaps the midwinter celebrations, subdued as they'll be this year, will offer a chance for everyone to come together.

They were about a moon's turn away now.

Song Lan had sat down at the deserted middle of the table and had his bowl filled with buttery roasted barley porridge. Now he looked around.

The princess waved from the dais end with her impish smile and Song Lan nodded to her. A-Qing sat with her ladies-in-waiting, however, and soon went back to chatting. There were no fellow members of the guard, since most of them were at work.

Something drew his attention at the lower end of the table where the servants sat. Someone, really.

Xue Yang looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed, hair mussed, his expression sleepily unguarded. Looking softer, sweeter.

Then another servant said something to him and Xue Yang laughed at it, so strikingly bright and pretty, before replying something that made the other servant laugh in turn.

Song Lan remembered Xue Yang's smile that night, so bright even after everything he'd been through, and realised he'd not seen the man smile like that since. It made him feel uncomfortable, a feeling he had no time for, so he pushed it away.

Anyway, he seems fine now, doesn't he?

“What has our resident troublemaker done now?”

Song Lan startled, scolding himself internally for it. What kind of a guard doesn't pay attention to his surroundings?

Wen Qing smiled at him from across the table. “Though you were the one who brought him here, so I don't know why you'd look so unhappy about it. Or were you actually admiring his pretty face?”

The last words were said quietly with a mischievous smile. Wen Qing knew Song Lan far too well, such as his romantic inclinations.

Song Lan huffed a laugh. “I have no time for admiring anyone right now.” Well, apart from Xingchen. “And he's not done anything recently, that I've heard of.”

Visiting the gardens wasn't a crime, even if Xingchen was right to be concerned. There were definitely people who disagreed, after all.

“Who told you I brought him here, by the way?” Song Lan asked.

“Qingyang, of course, but it's well-known. Made you all pretty unpopular in the castle for a while, but since he hasn't done anything terrible, people have mostly gotten over themselves.”

“I'm not worried about my popularity.”

Truthfully, Song Lan hadn't even noticed. Unless that was what the odd mood was about? Somehow he didn't think so.

“Wait, are you trying to tell me something here? Want me to talk to Xingchen about getting you a new assistant?” he asked very quietly.

Wen Qing raised her brows at him. “Don't be absurd, a-Lan, I can talk to Xingchen myself. And I need all the help I can get. Besides, he can be moody and annoying and he's obviously struggling with his circumstances, but he's actually really helpful.”

Huh. Would you look at that.

“Anyway, I never intended for him to stay,” Song Lan muttered. “Though I suppose I've made my peace with it. In any case, I wouldn't do anything differently. When you're a knight and someone calls for help in dark woods while being chased by armed men and dogs out for blood, you help them, never mind who they are.”

“You just can't help being a hero.” Wen Qing's rosebud mouth quirked into a small smile. Then she grew serious again. “Do we know who the hell thinks it's alright to hunt people like that?”

“No idea. I'm not even sure if these people were from Lanling or Qishan.”

“Xue Yang mentioned living in Lanling. Though I suppose he's smart enough not to shit where he eats.” Wen Qing shrugged.

Song Lan had forgotten that the healer could be as coarse as any guard.

She got up, having eaten quickly, and excused herself.

Song Lan had time today, yet he didn't feel like lingering either.

Before he could leave, however, Mr. Yao descended upon him, sitting down too closely and fussily wiping down the clean table with a handkerchief.

“Knight Song, I'm glad I can finally catch you. You're never in your rooms when I sent a servant.”

Song Lan suppressed a sigh. “Your servant might try the guardhouse in future,” he said wryly.

“Sure, sure. Anyway, there have been complaints about your allocation of the guards.”

Song Lan could feel himself frown.

When he didn't say anything, Mr. Yao wrung his hands. “Meaning no criticism, Knight Song. It's just, most of your people are guarding the prince.”

“Naturally. We are the Royal Guard, Mr. Yao.”

“The royal family encompasses more members.”

“And we guard them, too, but they are not the interim or future regent.”

Mr. Yao wasn't looking at him, opening and closing his mouth. The man was known for his umming and ahing; it never failed to irritate Song Lan.

“There have been complaints about Count Daoren being overlooked,” Mr. Yao said eventually.

“Count Daoren has his own knights,” Song Lan pointed out, exasperated. He was severely regretting his decision to eat in the great hall. “Anyway, who's complaining? The count himself? I'm only asking, because he hasn't talked to me directly, which a man of his calibre is perfectly capable of doing.”

“Of course, it wasn't the count himself!” Mr. Yao said quickly. “No, only, you know he is almost as beloved by the nobles as the prince and some of his friends felt he was being snubbed by your guards.”

This time, Song Lan allowed himself to sigh gustily.

“Understood. I'll see what I can do, though you may wish to tell these unnamed nobles that guards don't grow on trees. Perhaps they'd like to pay their taxes in a timely fashion, rather than putting it off until we have a king again.”

Mr. Yao, shoulders pulled up to his ears, only muttered something under his breath.

The man was clearly intimidated by Song Lan and close to shaking like a lap dog, so Song Lan got up. “Good day.”

He was ready to escape to the stables, to have Fuxue saddled for another patrol, but luck wasn't on his side today. Just then, Yanling Daoren swept in.

Speak of devils and they will appear.

He was accompanied by a whole group of people.

Well, the man is popular and admittedly personable.

Changshun-shifu had once gently suggested that Song Lan's dislike of the man was due to envy. It was true that Daoren had many skills that Song Lan lacked. Even so, he'd win a duel against him, in spite of the man's magic.

Anyway, he disagreed with shifu. For some reason, he'd just never liked Xingchen's jiujiu.

So, he was ready to pass the man with a curt greeting, but Yanling Daoren made a beeline towards where the servants sat.

Song Lan naturally assumed the man just needed an errand, but then saw him approaching Xue Yang, who was Xingchen's servant.

He paused to watch the interaction unfold.

It was immediately clear as day that Xue Yang was also surprised, his eyes widening. Then his expression grew wary, even as Daoren smiled winningly.

Song Lan moved closer, just in time to hear Daoren jokingly say: “So, you're my nephew's latest pet project, is that right?”

Xue Yang smiled back after a moment - showing that pointy canine tooth - but his smile held an edge.

“Who's asking?”

A noble member of Daoren's group whose name escaped Song Lan huffed. “His manners are still atrocious, what is the prince doing? Not training him up properly, clearly.”

Daoren only laughed boisterously, but Xue Yang's smile grew even sharper, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Song Lan had a bad feeling about it, so he made his presence known. “Is there a problem?”

“Song Lan, long time no see. How have you been, old chap?” Daoren smiled. “No problem. I was just curious, but I shouldn't have accosted our friend here at breakfast. My apologies.”

With a nod to Xue Yang and a wave to Song Lan, Daoren was on his way, the group trailing after him, some muttering while the others seemingly hadn't even noticed anything. Song Lan watched them sit down at the dais end, Daoren talking to a-Qing.

When Song Lan turned back to Xue Yang, the latter was frowning.

“Count Daoren is the younger brother of the late queen,” Song Lan explained.

“That doesn't give him the right to talk to me like that. Pet project? Why not just call me a pet?” Xue Yang said, albeit quietly, sounding sullen. When Song Lan said nothing he added defensively: “I was minding my own business.”

“I know. I didn't scold you, did I?” Song Lan almost asked why Xue Yang was still at breakfast and not doing his chores, but upon reflection, he bit back those words, too. “Well, have a good day then.”

He glanced at Xue Yang, only to see that his eyes had gotten wide again at the pleasantries. As though it were something special.

He looks really... cute?

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Only days after helping Xiao Xingchen with the armour, two things happened that vastly improved Xue Yang's mood.

One, it started snowing. This was a double-edged sword, since Xue Yang didn't love the cold, but snow was so rare in Lanling that he found it fascinating. It was further improved by the fact that the prince personally had ordered for more firewood to be brought to Xue Yang's chamber, “since he was from a warmer climate.”

Anyway, everything looks prettier covered in sparkly white.

However, novel though the snow was, it was the second thing that really cheered Xue Yang up: namely, the prince informing him he'd accompany him into the castle town.

Xiao Xingchen had some business there and they'd of course be joined by members of the guard. That fact did nothing to spoil Xue Yang's excitement.

In fact, he was positively giddy by the time he finally left through the gate.

Even though he'd be back before nightfall and it was bitingly cold. He'd been given a woollen cloak, but his bad hand twinged all the same.

Still, it was fun being part of a whole procession.

Song Lan – of course – was in the vanguard on his powerful horse, though not dressed in chain mail for once but trousers, tunic, and cloak with only his sword belt.

Xingchen followed him on his pretty dapple-grey, also dressed somewhat less absurdly than usual, even if his fur-lined cloak didn't exactly make him look common.

Behind him two horses carried a litter holding the princess and a lady-in-waiting. Another guard, that one a mere youth named a-Yuan, was riding alongside them.

Then came Xue Yang and a maid-servant. To his surprise, they'd been given horses too. He'd almost expected to be made to walk, since the castle town wasn't far and he was probably presumed a flight risk.

However, his horse seemed placid and uninterested in anything but snacking on shrubs by the roadside, so it was unlikely that he could out-gallop the hunting horses of the others. It suited him well enough, since he wasn't a particularly skilled rider.

There's not a lot of horses in the slums, after all; if there were, they'd be eaten.

The rear of their group was made up by Luo Qingyang on a glossy black steed.

All a little much, honestly.

The horses went slowly, either to accommodate the litter or because the road was rather steep and currently covered in a thin powdering of snow. More snow was falling from low, heavy clouds. Further down, woods stretched in all directions, patches of mist clinging to the trees.

The huge mountains loomed in front of them. Then the road started to turn, snaking down the castle hill and opening up views over the town below them.

As expected, their journey was short. They stabled their horses at the edge of town, continuing on foot.

Xue Yang immediately knew that this was where the real fun would begin.

There were people everywhere, normal people, going about their lives and business, hawking and laughing and chatting. Children were chasing each other.

There were mules and yaks, there were chickens and dogs hunting for scraps and cats slinking into alleyways.

There was music and the smell of food and of the burning dung used to heat peasant houses. Red and gold lanterns and colourful flags decorated the streets, interspersed with sprigs of evergreens and holly and some red flower Xue Yang had never seen.

Of course. The midwinter festival. Is it really that close already?

Once again, he felt a pang at the passage of time. Meng Yao, Xuanyu and everyone else he knew must really think him dead by now. He couldn't dwell on it, though.

Even though everyone was dressed relatively simply and lightly armed, the crowd opened up for them, some people kowtowing. The maid-servant, apparently furnished with a coin pouch for the occasion, was handing out money to beggars, though there were notably fewer of them than in Lanling.

They'd walked up to the market square, surrounded by larger guild houses on one side and smaller shops on the other. The square itself was heaving with stalls and people. At its edges, a myriad of narrow alleys snaked away between the houses.

Xue Yang considered it: just slinking into the shadows like one of the cats and vanishing like smoke.

The guards kept an eye on everyone, though, circling their group like sheepdogs.

Besides, it would be foolish. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and his pendant. Even if he'd steal some coin, the guards would find him in this unfamiliar place quicker than he'd get away. No, better to just pay attention for next time.

However, the weather, beautiful as it was in its way, meant he was running out of time.

I don't want to get snowed in while at Tian Shan's palace.

The thought that he'd have to act quickly made him uncomfortable for some reason, so Xue Yang pushed it away. It was easy to distract himself.

He'd been uncertain about his role, but it became soon apparent that it mostly involved carrying the purchases of the nobles. It wasn't too bad.

Everyone else was distracted, too, with the exception of Song Lan and Qingyang maybe.

The princess was mesmerised by everything that glittered like a magpie, as if she didn't live in a palace full of riches. A-Qing had grown on Xue Yang however, since he learned that she was an orphaned peasant child adopted for her magical aptitude.

Like the prince, apparently, but she had been older already and her magic had turned out weaker. Either way, Xue Yang could respect her for her life trajectory and was only feeling a little resentful that he hadn't had the same luck.

The lady-in-waiting, a noble from a vassal duchy called Qin Su, was quiet and courteous and very seriously helped a-Qing select fabrics for gowns.

Xingchen indulged his meimei where he could. In fact, although Xue Yang was sure the prince had told him he had errands in town, it seemed increasingly as though they were just following the princess around.

Not that he cared. Especially not when they came to a stall selling gingerbread, where a-Qing selected a sugar-frosted heart, then, after a look around at their group, bought several more.

Perhaps Xue Yang should have been past the age where a gingerbread snowflake made his day, but he'd never gotten sweets as a child. He wouldn't turn them down now.

Soon after, a-Qing complained that she was tired. It was therefore decided that the princess, her lady-in-waiting and the maid-servant would return to the castle, with the youngest guard and Qingyang.

They also took the purchased items with them in the litter, lightening Xue Yang's load. The mood, however, grew more sombre once they'd left.

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan were striding ahead, away from the market place, talking among themselves.

Whenever Xue Yang fell back, the knight would immediately notice, so he settled on just listening in to their conversation.

“By all accounts it was Wen forces that raided that village, though they are blaming bandits. I think a military response will be unavoidable at this point,” Song Lan said, quietly, though now that they were a smaller group, no one seemed to recognise the prince.

“Jiujia still thinks a diplomatic solution is best and I'd also like to avoid bloodshed,” Xingchen replied. “Access to Snow Flowers might appease Wen Ruohan, but I'm also wary of amplifying the magical capabilities of someone already so powerful and dangerous.”

Interesting.

Xue Yang had heard stories about Wen Ruohan from Meng Yao, who'd actually been to his court. Apparently, the man collected torture devices and kept wolves.

Almost like he is compensating for something.

Xue Yang had also learned about Snow Flowers, from Wen Qing's books. Native to Tian Shan, they grew high up in the mountains and had potent magical properties.

When Xue Yang listened to the conversation again, it had moved on.

“I feel bad about jiujiu feeling slighted because of the guards...”

“I'm sorry, Xingxing,” Song Lan replied softly.

Xingxing? Aw, how sweet. Xue Yang could just about keep himself from gagging.

“It's not your fault, Zichen.”

“Of course it is, I'm captain of the guard.”

“Ultimately it is my responsibility-”

They suddenly seemed to become aware of Xue Yang's presence again.

Song Lan cleared his throat. “I will rectify the matter, my prince.”

Xue Yang had to look away to roll his eyes at the charade.

“Could you hurry up a little, Xue Yang?” Song Lan asked irritably with a glance back.

Their interactions, few as they were, had become more pleasant overall and Xue Yang's hatred of the man didn't burn white-hot any more. Clearly, though, the embers of it still smouldered for both of them.

Xue Yang only sneered, since talking back wasn't worth the effort, but Xiao Xingchen came to his defence.

“A-Yang has never been to the town, Zichen. Of course he wants to look around.”

Song Lan did not roll his eyes, but Xue Yang had the clear sense that he wanted to. He also seemed to forget that he was pretending to only be the prince's knight.

“I understand, but we're losing the light. Besides, are you giving every new servant a tour of the town?”

Xingchen seemed no more annoyed at his knight's brusqueness than at Xue Yang's occasional impertinence. Instead, he looked thoughtful.

“No, but perhaps I should. Well, realistically I cannot always do it, but someone ought to. Maybe I can implement a system...”

This time, Song Lan did roll his eyes, while Xue Yang couldn't keep a straight face.

Their gazes met and for a split second, they clearly thought alike: Oh, Xingchen.

Then, the prince said, “there it is,” and the moment was gone.

“There” seemed to be a smithy of some sort, tucked away between larger houses. Inside, it was rather warm and smelled of earth and smoke and iron.

The smith was a rather rough-looking woman who turned out to have knowledge of magic. Apparently, Xiao Xingchen needed something done to his sword to channel magic better. At least, that was Xue Yang's interpretation of it.

Magic naturally was very exciting, however, theoretical discussions of it were as tedious as the large tomes about potions. The most magical thing was the smith running a hand over the sword, her fingers sparking blueish light for just a moment.

So, Xue Yang soon browsed the swords and knives hanging about the place.

It reminded him of his lost dagger. Of the little knife in his boot, too, but the dagger had been dearer to his heart. He hadn't had much need for it lately, but suddenly, he felt naked without a weapon. The last time he'd not carried one, he'd been a small, defenceless child.

He was absently touching a fine dagger very similar to his old one, when he felt Song Lan's towering presence next to his. When he turned, the knight's gaze was cold.

Xue Yang withdrew his hand from the dagger as though he'd been burned. “I was only looking, really. I wasn't going to steal it or attack anyone.”

Song Lan seemed momentarily taken aback.

“I didn't think you were,” the knight said after a moment, but it sounded feeble, as though he didn't really believe it himself. Then he cleared his throat. “Anyway, your old dagger is in our armoury. One of my guards picked it up that night. So you can have it back when you leave.”

Xue Yang was struck dumb for a moment.

“Am I going to leave?” he asked, a silly question, since he was planning to do so soon.

Song Lan looked at him oddly. “Naturally. When you're no longer thought to be a danger to the peace of the land, remember?”

He turned away then, at something Xingchen had said, though he was still standing between Xue Yang and the door.

Apparently, the man's trust had limits, but on the other hand, as to his cold, hostile glares, Xue Yang was starting to wonder if that wasn't just Song Lan's face.

They exited the smithy soon after, Xingchen leaving his sword there to be collected in a few days.

“Xue Yang, do you think you'd find your way around here? For the future, I mean. There might come a time where you're tasked with your own errands.”

Xue Yang couldn't help but grin at the prince. “Of course. Sneaking around mazes without getting lost is my speciality.”

Xingchen giggled, then bit his lip. Song Lan frowned, but didn't say anything.

Xue Yang was pretty pleased with the reactions.

They'd walked back toward the market place. Xue Yang had been keeping track, so he knew they'd have to cross the square to get back to where the horses were stabled.

Somehow, it had gotten even busier, although or perhaps because it was already afternoon. It was snowing more heavily, too; fluffy flakes dancing in the air. Pretty, but cold and also obscuring the view.

They'd been walking close together, but a whole group – seemingly a rich merchant and their entourage and animals – was just leaving the market.

Xue Yang had kept an eye on his conveniently tall companions, but he'd also looked around, so he wasn't quite sure what happened.

It seemed a horse from the merchant group shied at something, rearing up and almost bolting into the crowd. There were screams. People jumped out of the way until the animal was under control.

Xue Yang, not directly impacted, only saw a heaving crowd for a moment. Before he could feel anything at the thought of finally being outside by himself, he spotted Song Lan again.

He had a good view of the knight's face. Song Lan looked utterly horrified and Xue Yang's heart leapt into his throat.

Xingchen.

Without thinking, he fought his way through the crowd until he reached Song Lan.

“What happened? Did the prince get hurt?”

Song Lan startled at his voice. When he looked at Xue Yang, he seemed surprised to see him, as though he'd forgotten that Xue Yang had been with them.

“He's gone.”

“What? That's impossible, he was just here.”

“Do you see him anywhere?” Song Lan snapped, shock evidently replaced by anger.

Xue Yang looked around.

It was true. Xingchen was nowhere to be seen.

However, the crowd was still heaving. People seemed to be mostly leaving the market now, forming a current that their group had been moving against earlier, only Xue Yang, at the rear and distracted, hadn't noticed.

Perhaps Xingchen has been swept up in it and been pushed back towards the alleys?

Then he should have gone past Xue Yang, however.

“Ancestors, this can't be happening,” Song Lan muttered, still looking around wildly.

Their progress was hampered even with the knight's imposing presence. Song Lan started asking passers-by if they'd seen a man of Xiao Xingchen's description, but was only met with head-shaking and blank stares.

“Let's get out of this busy spot,” Xue Yang suggested after a moment.

“We can't leave without him,” Song Lan snarled, apparently losing the last of his cool. “Xingchen might have enemies, you have no idea- If you hadn't come along-”

“This wasn't my fault,” Xue Yang hissed, incensed at the unfairness. “Do you think I magicked him away? I was behind you. Anyway, I'm just saying, let's move a few steps.”

Song Lan's anger seemed to vanish as quickly as it'd come. Always pale, the knight looked almost ghostly now. “What if there were assassins?”

Xue Yang thought it over for a moment. The prince was a grown man with magic and a sharp mind and training in the martial arts by his own admission. However, he could understand Song Lan's fears and also felt weirdly discomfited himself without Xingchen.

Still, it won't do to lose one's head.

“Anything's possible, but assassins don't seem likely. Even if someone got wind of this outing, why would they have come from that side? How would they have known to stage a commotion now? No one followed us; I would have noticed. You too, I'm sure.”

After a moment, Song Lan nodded, though he still looked unhappy.

He started asking people again, without luck.

Xue Yang still couldn't see any trace of the prince, so he decided to make his own investigations.

“Do you have coin, Song Lan?” he asked absently.

The knight frowned, but did not complain about the informal address. He didn't however hand over any money.

“I want to ask someone who may need payment,” Xue Yang said impatiently.

After a moment, the knight handed over some silver. Way too much, really. Oh well.

Xue Yang asked a grimy boy who'd watched them warily, holding up the silver while he described Xingchen: A tall man in a fur-lined cloak with a dreamy expression.

To his huge relief, the boy soon pointed. “He's just over there; a little one got kicked by the horse and he's sitting with her.”

Song Lan, who'd listened, didn't wait, pushing roughly past Xue Yang and leaving him standing there. He gave half of the silver to the child, keeping the other half.

Waste not, want not.

Then he followed Song Lan, because he had to see for himself that Xingchen was alright.

The child wasn't that much smaller than the boy who'd disappeared with his silver. Luckily, the girl also didn't seem too gravely hurt, though she was bleeding.

Xiao Xingchen was squatting next to her, pressing a rag to her forehead and speaking soothingly.

“Xingxing,” Song Lan said softly, sounding weak with relief.

Xue Yang quickly caught up to them.

Xingchen looked up with a smile, happy to see them but apparently much less worried.

“There you both are. This is a-Ding, she has no parents. I'll alert the shrines, but she needs treatment in the meantime.”

Wen Qing wouldn't be overjoyed at more patients, though Xue Yang knew by now that the healer's sometimes sharp tongue and temper hid a golden heart.

Luckily, just then some guards from Tian Shan appeared, who were tasked with taking the girl back to the castle swiftly.

Once they were gone, Xingchen seemed to finally notice Song Lan's state.

“Are you well? Did something happen?”

“You were missing! You were gone, what do you think?” Song Lan's normally gruff but calm voice sounded almost frantic.

The prince looked startled.

Xue Yang, strangely relieved himself, burst into slightly manic laughter.

Both Xingchen and Song Lan stared at him; Xue Yang fully expected the knight to grow angry.

Instead, Song Lan started laughing too. It changed his entire appearance, making him suddenly appear very young.

Xingchen looked rueful. “I'm sorry, I saw the child and no one else seemed to, I had to help.”

“Of course,” Song Lan said after a moment, sounding sincere.

Xue Yang was still fighting an urge to laugh uncontrollably. “You people really are something else.”

This time, inexplicably, both Xingchen and Song Lan laughed, too.

People actually started staring at them.

“Let's get some food to get over the shock,” Xingchen suggested when they were all calm again. “Maybe a hot drink, too.”

Nobody had any objections.

They'd already ordered bao buns at one stall and roasted sweet chestnuts at the one next to it, when a new problem arose.

Xingchen had been patting himself down when his face fell. “I think I lost my coin pouch.”

“It was stolen,” Song Lan and Xue Yang said simultaneously.

The prince looked sheepish. “Ancestors, I hate to have to play the prince card. It's bad form to ask your subjects to give you goods without immediate payment.”

Xue Yang had some silver now, but he'd only just gotten it. He was loath to part with it so soon. Especially because he'd sorely need it.

Before he could decide, Song Lan took out his own coin pouch. He seemed to throw a dark look at Xue Yang as he counted out the coins.

“Don't pay for me then, if you hate it so much,” Xue Yang snarled, hackles rising.

“Did I say anything?” Song Lan snapped back. “Can't you just be grateful for once?

“Why would I ever be grateful to the person who abducted me?”

Song Lan turned a little too forcefully and Xue Yang flinched back.

Xingchen slotted himself neatly between them, his back turned towards Xue Yang.

“Let's eat; we'll all feel better then. Zichen, I'll pay you back. A-Yang, just think of it as my coin.”

“No need to pay me back, my prince,” Song Lan said.

Xue Yang muttered: “What difference does that make?” He took his food all the same.

It turned out everyone was calmer after having eaten.

Song Lan even bought them a hot drink tasting of apples and spices. Before anyone could say anything, he said: “Credit where credit is due; I wouldn't have found you so quickly without Xue Yang.”

Xingchen smiled at that and even the corners of Song Lan's mouth twitched.

Xue Yang couldn't help but smile, too.

It was still snowing, the snow settling wetly on his clothes and his hands had hurt until the warmth of food and drink.

Now, though, the square was no longer so busy and the mood was peaceful. Snow had even settled on the lanterns, looking rather pretty.

A street sorcerer was doing fire magic, producing hissing flames that shot up high, melting the snowflakes, hot-gold sparks flying through the air like fireflies on a Lanling summer night.

Then, the flames formed a stream that turned into a bird, lifting against the darkening sky, wings of fire sizzling over the square.

Some kind of illusion or parlour trick, probably, but people were gasping in awe and clapping. Xingchen was smiling, Song Lan no longer looked so pale and worried, and Xue Yang felt happier than he had in forever.

Maybe even long before he'd come here.

They left shortly after, needing to get back before nightfall.

They made it safely, but by the time the castle came into view, it was almost dark. The warmly lit windows looked welcoming.

Everyone seemed calm and happy. Xue Yang had accidentally called the prince Xingchen-ge in front of Song Lan and no one had seemed to care.

Xue Yang felt unusually content, for the moment anyway.

It was almost a shame that he'd leave soon.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

A few days after their visit to the town, Song Lan was looking out over the grounds from the window seat in Xingchen's room.

It was cosy, the cat purring on his lap while outside everything was blanketed in white. Though the snowfall had stopped for the time being.

Xingchen, however, sat at the table, dejectedly looking at some documents.

“This doesn't make any sense,” he muttered, putting down the paper he was holding.

Song Lan would have offered to help, but Xingchen had so far refused all assistance.

They'd been in the same meeting earlier, chaired by Mr. Yao.

At this point, Song Lan could have sworn that somebody was stirring up resentment against Xingchen. It wasn't natural. Xingchen had been very popular, often mediating during the queen's lifetime when there were disagreements between her and nobles or officials.

It also seemed to only be a small but loud minority, yet Song Lan had been unable to pinpoint who was really behind different rumours and complaints. Not least because some of the people mouthing off were definitely too stupid to come up with their arguments themselves. Even Yanling Daoren had failed to get everyone onto the same page.

On the bright side, no more border villages had been attacked, though that was likely due to the weather and not because the King of Qishan had suddenly seen sense.

That reminded Song Lan. Had everything started when Xue Yang had appeared? Or before?

Admittedly, since their visit to the town, he felt rather better about the menace.

He could have easily run off when we became separated and didn't.

Instead, Xue Yang had even helped to find Xingchen.

Song Lan was roused from his reveries by the latter suddenly getting up, clearly frustrated.

“They've completely rewritten my accounts proposal. Just because I dared to temporarily raise the taxes on the richest. I cut my own allowances, everything.”

He wandered over and let himself sink down on the window seat next to Song Lan. It was a rather tight fit, but since it was Xingchen, it didn't bother Song Lan.

Especially not right now, when Xingchen was looking so tired and despondent. The prince pressed a hand to his face, his eyes closed.

“I don't know, I'm not even sure if it's about money at this point. If so, I can just make further cuts to my own expenses, but I'm starting to feel as though everything I do is wrong in the eyes of some.”

He was frowning now. Song Lan longed to reach over and smooth out Xingchen's forehead.

“Even more strangely, whenever I speak to people directly, they seem so happy. And whenever there are objections, they come from new quarters.”

“Is that so strange? Think about who you are now: the regent. People might be afraid to tell a king what they were not afraid to tell a prince.”

After a moment, Xingchen shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You should put guards in front of your rooms.”

Xingchen looked up sharply. “That again? I don't think they'll attack me over the accounts just yet. Besides, we just had that whole issue, you know.”

Song Lan did know. He was still angry about it, actually. Xingchen was travelling to a shrine in a few days and Song Lan would be unable to accompany him, because of Mr. Yao's silly complaint on Yanling Daoren's behalf.

Of course, the Count had chosen that same day for a visit to town with the princess and had been allocated Song Lan as a guard to make up for the recent controversy.

Gods, how I hate those stupid courtly games.

“You are still my guard first and foremost,” Xingchen said softly. “My knight.”

There was something in his tone that made Song Lan look up.

Their eyes met; Xingchen smiled. In spite of looking exhausted, he was still so radiant. His eyes sparkled.

Dawn and stardust, indeed.

Song Lan felt himself smile back. “Once you are king, I will not guard anyone else. That's a promise.”

Xingchen's smile widened. “Promise accepted.”

Song Lan nodded once, seriously. Then he realised the time. “I need to go.”

He made to get up; the cat jumped off his lap and stalked away, seeming rather disgruntled.

When he turned to Xingchen, his friend, too, was pouting. “You just got here. I don't want to do more paper work.”

“How about a ride after your shrine visit?” Song Lan suggested, trying to think of fun activities. “Also, I know the midwinter ball won't be pure pleasure, but... Maybe when it gets late, you can have some fun.”

Xingchen would enjoy it more than Song Lan at least.

“Jiujiu still wants to invite all sorts of guests from other kingdoms and such. To be honest, I think he's right.”

“As long as he's not inviting Wen Ruohan.”

Xingchen laughed. “They're both too afraid of Qing-jie.”

Song Lan made his goodbyes then, because he had to.

Before he could enter the guardhouse, however, he spotted Qingyang and Wen Ning, who was responsible for the stables, standing by the gate and looking rather agitated.

“What is the matter?” Song Lan asked.

Wen Ning wrung his hands, apparently lost for words. Wen Qing's didi tended to be rather anxious, though he was also a trained warrior and excellent with a bow.

More unusually, Qingyang looked worried, too. “Xue Yang is gone.”

Song Lan could feel himself blink. “Gone? How?”

“He... he came and said he needed a horse for an errand in town for the prince. The prince's s.. sword,” Wen Ning stuttered. “The prince had mentioned it. So I... I gave him a horse.” The last words were almost inaudible.

“Later, a-Tong came for the same errand,” Qingyang added.

“Did you tell anyone else?”

“No, we didn't get that far. Do you think Xue Yang wants to steal Xingchen's sword?”

“I doubt it,” Song Lan said, though really, he struggled to think clearly. All he could think about was Xingchen's sad, tired face.

He made a snap decision. “You know, the prince has been entrusting Xue Yang with more tasks lately. I think this was a simple misunderstanding. Likely the prince tasked two servants with the same errand by accident.”

Qingyang looked a little doubtful, but she was a straightforward person, not prone to believing in conspiracies or duplicity. Wen Ning only looked relieved.

“Tell you what, I'll ride into town to see what's going on,” Song Lan suggested.

Qingyang smiled, seemingly put at ease, while Wen Ning immediately went to saddle Fuxue.

Song Lan went into the guardhouse to get his sword while also trying to get his thoughts in order.

Part of him almost believed the story he'd just made up. It was possible. After all, Xue Yang had stayed the other day. He'd seemed to care about Xingchen. Maybe even a little too much, though Song Lan wouldn't blame him for that. Xingchen is enchanting.

On the other hand, Song Lan wasn't a fool. They had known Xue Yang for less than two months and he was a criminal.

A criminal who had gotten one over on Song Lan once already.

He would have liked to go up to Xue Yang's room to see if he'd packed up his things, but there was no time for that.

Then another thought struck him: Why chase after the delinquent?

Xue Yang evidently wanted to leave. For a long while, he'd been a thorn in Song Lan's side, yet another variable he couldn't control or even accurately assess, as was proven now. Maybe it would be best to set him free. Not least because he might also be a rival for Xingchen's affections. It was only natural for Xue Yang to be attracted to Xingchen, but the other way around... Yet, that was unchivalrous.

Especially when Song Lan thought of Xingchen again then, so unusually downcast already, and of what would happen if some people got wind of Xue Yang's disappearance and caught him.

If they find him, he's dead.

No doubt Xue Yang would be skillful at evading the grasp of those nobles, but he was also a stranger in these lands.

Easy to get lost in the snowfall, to freeze or fall to death in the mountains. Only one thing to do then.

Song Lan was about to leave the small armoury, when he noticed the empty spot on the shelf, which had not been empty just hours ago, he was sure of it.

“Qingyang,” he called. “Have you moved Xue Yang's dagger today? Or someone else?”

“Hm? No. And no one else was here since you left this morning, I would have seen it. It must have been moved earlier.”

Huh. Once a master thief, always a master thief it would appear.

Though admittedly, this master thief had only taken his own possessions.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Xue Yang was in the woods, free as a bird, with a horse, provisions, his pendant and some dried Snow Flower from Wen Qing's apothecary's chest. If he rode hard, he might even make it to the wild lands before nightfall.

Yet, for some reason, he didn't feel good at all.

It was probably the cold, cutting even through his heavy cloak.

Yes, that must be it.

Or maybe it was the woods. After all, the last time Xue Yang had been out in a forest he'd been running for his life.

He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to accompany Xingchen to some shrine in a couple of days. Of course, this meant nothing to him. Even so, it might have been interesting to travel together.

It was odd to think that he'd never see Xiao Xingchen again. Not ever.

He'd said, “see you later, a-Yang,” only hours ago.

Xue Yang took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and focus on what actually mattered, namely his escape.

His horse apparently heard him, turning back one ear. It was quite a good horse, in spite of being a bit slow. He'd forgotten to ask Wen Ning what it was called. Anyway, he'd sell it in the wild lands or maybe in Lanling.

Lanling. The city felt like a distant dream. Would anyone there even be happy to see him?

A-Yu, probably.

The woods were too quiet. There were animal tracks, mostly from birds and some that Xue Yang couldn't decipher, but he didn't see any other living being.

His horse slowed down, which it did whenever Xue Yang wasn't prodding it with his heels for any length of time. It looked back the way they'd come from, maybe thinking it was time to return to its warm stable.

Xue Yang wasn't sure if the horse would need food. It was only a half-day's ride or so. The trees and even the underbrush looked rather barren in any case.

Less than two moons, yet the woods had changed so much. Snow everywhere. Icicles hung from stones and even trees, glittering coldly.

The strange feeling in Xue Yang's stomach wouldn't go away.

He wondered if Wen Qing would be angry at the loss of the Snow Flower, though he deliberately hadn't taken all of it. Besides, there's more of them in the mountains.

Song Lan, at least, would surely be happy that Xue Yang was gone. Wouldn't he? Then again, it was the knight who'd brought him to the castle.

He'd also helped him against his pursuers that night. He could have let Xue Yang die. Xue Yang wasn't sure why he hadn't seen it like that before.

He thought of the knight's handsome face in the moonlight. Thought of Song Lan being so magnanimous in town and so calm when Xue Yang caught him walking the gardens with Xiao Xingchen. He thought of himself walking with the prince, that first time after sunset.

He remembered then that Xingchen and Song Lan were lovers. Nobles, who didn't give a shit about him, a lowly criminal. It was probably Xingchen's magic that made him consider anything else for even a moment.

Xue Yang laughed out loud at his own foolishness. He stopped again immediately, though, because it sounded eerie in the quiet forest.

He reined in his horse in the shelter of a large tree; it stopped easily, happy at the break.

There were still no sounds but those of the snow shifting, the trees creaking.

Xue Yang had his trusty dagger back. He reminded himself that he was the most dangerous thing out here.

Suddenly, the wind picked up. It was warm and smelled of thunderstorms and salt and hot stone, incongruous.

Not that far from him – maybe the length of two fallen trees and slightly downhill – indigo light flared up like wildfire. A very oddly-coloured fire. Magic.

Xue Yang's heart pounded.

The placid horse suddenly threw its head and rolled its eyes; he had to fight to keep it from bolting. Scared of being thrown off, he slid down, holding the reins tightly.

Very carefully, he looked around the tree, in the direction of the flickering, poison-coloured light; the flames seemingly ran in a line on the forest floor before petering out.

A shudder ran through Xue Yang; not just due to the cold.

His horse whinnied, then slowly calmed; Xue Yang however had never been less calm.

Someone had been doing magic in these woods. Xiao Xingchen?

No, he'd seen the prince's magic, silver-white where the smith's was light-blue and Wen Qing's was rose-red. This one had been a dark, violet-tinged blue.

Can magic change colour? Can it happen without someone instigating it?

Xue Yang mounted his horse again and tried to continue on his way. After all, this had nothing to do with him. For all he knew, Xingchen might have paid a sorcerer or else this had natural causes.

Unfortunately, before he got much further, he remembered Song Lan's pale face in the market square. Xingchen might have enemies, he'd said.

Well, surely that was true of any ruler. Like any ruler, Xingchen also had countless guards.

Still. The woods felt off, Xue Yang's stomach was roiling, and he hadn't survived this long because he didn't listen to his gut. His gut screamed at him to ride back.

He considered his options. Maybe this was the wrong time to escape, anyway. There was too much snow. He would just say that he got lost or that his horse bolted, so no one could accuse him of anything.

Xingchen would believe him.

At that thought, Xue Yang's heart did a happy skip, and the roiling in his stomach turned into butterflies. All of a sudden, all became horribly clear in the frozen woods.

Xue Yang had known he'd desired the man, but he hadn't realised he'd fallen for him, like a heroine in a storyteller's romance.

This was a story that couldn't end well, but at the same time, Xue Yang couldn't leave things like this.

He turned his horse around, which immediately fell into a trot of its own volition. Apparently the creature thought returning the best plan, too.

They'd made only a little progress, back the way they'd come, when suddenly, indigo light flared up in front of him.

It crackled with power like lightning. There was sudden heat on his neck, where the pendant was.

The horse reared; Xue Yang screamed in useless shock.

The horse lost its footing and fell, taking Xue Yang down with it.

The ground came closer. He felt cold and pain, then nothing.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Huge birds circled above the woods. Vultures.

Song Lan suppressed a shiver.

Vultures were sacred birds of the mountains said to carry the souls to the heavens.

Even so, I don't want to see them now.

Probably just a dead animal somewhere.

On closer inspection, their location seemed further up than Xue Yang – or anyone from either castle or town, for that matter – was likely to have gone.

Nevertheless, Song Lan couldn't quite shake the sense of foreboding that had haunted him for weeks now.

He spurred on Fuxue, entering the canopy of the trees, barren though they were now, apart from the hardy pines.

Song Lan had known these woods all his life and the snow worked in his favour. Even more luckily, there had been no fresh snowfall.

He couldn't be certain that the hoof prints he was following were from Xue Yang's mount, but there weren't a lot of tracks other than those from the forest animals.

Song Lan had met one farmer and his yak near the road; ever since, the woods had been deserted.

Fuxue slowed; Song Lan loosened the reins so that the stallion could pick his own way on icy ground.

Suddenly, Fuxue stopped, lifting his head and flaring his nostrils. Then he whinnied loudly.

Song Lan took hold of the reins again, just in case, when an answering neigh came from somewhere ahead. Soon, a smaller, shaggy chestnut horse with tack on trotted around a bend in the path.

He immediately recognised it as the one given to Xue Yang when they rode into town.

Fuxue grumbled a greeting, while the smaller horse seemed happy to see a member of his herd, letting himself be caught easily.

“Where's your rider?” Song Lan asked with a sinking feeling.

Since the horse obviously couldn't answer, he looked to the path again.

The tracks were messier here, but likely only because the horse had doubled back on itself. He could still see the outgoing track and urged Fuxue forward again, taking the other horse with them.

The ground was sloping slightly here. There was a strange smell in the air, sharp, pungent and metallic like after a lightning strike.

Did someone light a fire here? It's not woodsmoke, though.

His nose had been right. There was a patch where the snow had melted, black earth gaping open like a wound, some of the surrounding trees and ice showing traces of ash.

Actual lightning? There've been no thunderstorms for months.

Song Lan looked around. He was close to the ward stones, he realised.

The tracks were interrupted by the snow melt, but further down the path, two sets could clearly be seen, one going out, towards the ward stones, and one coming back. They looked identical.

Meaning... Xue Yang turned around? Where is he? Did he tamper with the wards?

Wen Qing would have noticed if he had magic, though, surely.

Song Lan looked slightly to his left. His heart skipped a beat, then started hammering wildly.

The bloodstains were a shockingly bright scarlet against the frozen white.

It wasn't hard to find Xue Yang then, rolled into a snow drift, though luckily with his face upturned.

Song Lan slid down, barely bothering to secure the horses in his haste to get to the troublemaker, who'd evidently grown on him more than he'd realised.

Xue Yang's heart was beating. Song Lan exhaled in relief, then examined him more closely.

He felt so cold, but didn't seem singed, clearly not struck by the lightning. No, not lightning. Magic.

The blood seemed to stem from a gash on Xue Yang's forehead. Like all head wounds it had bled profusely for a bit, but already stopped, probably due to the cold.

Song Lan couldn't tell at first glance if any limbs were broken, but it didn't seem that way. Well, he'd have to transport him; hopefully it wouldn't cause further harm.

It wasn't easy to get Xue Yang onto Fuxue without jostling him around too much, even though Song Lan was strong. He managed eventually, mounting behind Xue Yang so he could hold him steady and wrapping his cloak around them both.

Fuxue had started moving, the other horse following, Xue Yang's back pressed against Song Lan's chest, when he could feel him wake.

He seemed to panic for a moment, writhing enough that Song Lan worried he might fall again.

“It's only me,” he said, gruffly, then immediately felt stupid.

What does that mean to him?

Yet, Xue Yang stilled. “Got lost, gege.” His voice sounded scratchy.

Gege?

“No, you didn't. It doesn't matter now, though. Be calm, we'll be back soon. You'll be alright. Everything will be alright.”

Miraculously, it worked, Xue Yang relaxing against him as they rode on swiftly through the spray of snow.

Song Lan only hoped that he'd spoken the truth.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Xue Yang must have passed out again, because the last thing he remembered was Song Lan, quite probably saving his life again.

He did not remember getting into the castle, but that's clearly where he was.

Light fell through stained glass. It was blissfully warm. There were faint voices.

Suddenly, Xue Yang remembered that Song Lan had known he'd left on purpose. He sat up abruptly, or tried to. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes.

“He's awake,” someone said. Song Lan?

When Xue Yang could see clearly again and also had made sense of his surroundings, Wen Qing was sitting at his bedside, looking intently at him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fantastic,” Xue Yang snarked reflexively. When she didn't react, he considered the question properly. “My head hurts. Ribs, too. I think. Something else.”

The hollow of his neck? That seemed weird.

Wen Qing looked into his eyes and seemed to run another couple of tests, before sinking back down on a chair.

“Well, it's not too bad, mostly just a combination of bumping your head, the cold and the effects from the magic.”

The magic!

“I came back to warn Xingchen,” Xue Yang said quickly, forgetting his own cover story. “There were huge, dark blue-purple flames and a fiery line on the ground...”

Wen Qing looked away. When he followed her gaze, he finally saw Song Lan, who'd apparently hung back as she'd examined him.

The knight was frowning and his eyes were cold, but right now Xue Yang didn't care. Especially because that was what he always looked like, anyway.

Song Lan had exchanged an infuriatingly loaded glance with Wen Qing, but now he addressed Xue Yang: “We cannot tell Xingchen about this. He doesn't know you tried to escape, no one does, apart from us here. For your own safety and for Xingchen's peace of mind, we should keep it that way.”

“Someone did magic in the woods! He needs to know!”

Unless it was natural causes after all?

Xue Yang could feel anger rising at his own stupidity. Not only had he failed to escape and gotten injured for nothing, he didn't even get any thanks for wanting to warn Xingchen-

Wait a moment. There was magic before I fell...

“I think I got attacked by the same magic!”

“You know, Xue Yang is right,” Wen Qing said, sounding a bit as though she regretted the fact. “There is something strange afoot. We cannot keep this from the prince.”

“I'm not saying we should hide the bit about the magic or the wards forever. Xingchen is under a lot of pressure right now, though. And it would hurt him to know that you wanted to leave.”

The last was aimed at Xue Yang, who wasn't in a forgiving mood himself. “What are you talking about? You abducted me, the prince forced me into servitude, why wouldn't I want to leave?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You should be thanking the prince on your knees for his mercy, instead of acting so brazenly disrespectful all the time.”

Song Lan's eyes burned with a dark fire as he stared down at Xue Yang, who scoffed.

“You want to see me on my knees?”

He sneered when Song Lan deflated and looked flustered.

“You'd like me better that way, big guy?”

Song Lan seemed to be lost for words, but Wen Qing cleared her throat pointedly.

“Can we talk about what's actually important? Xue Yang, please tell us exactly what happened.”

She had a point, so he did.

Wen Qing looked pensive afterwards; Song Lan was frowning. Xue Yang tried to remember further details, but his head hurt.

“The queen's magic was indigo,” Song Lan said after a moment.

Xue Yang frowned, discomfited. “It was a ghost?”

Wen Qing snorted. “Hardly. Someone else's magic must have the same colour, though I wouldn't know who it could be.”

“Could it have been Xue Yang, messing with the wards?” Song Lan asked, as though Xue Yang wasn't right there.

“Excuse me?”

“You're a criminal, what do I know where you draw the line?”

“I don't have magic!”

“Could you stop bickering? Song Lan, Xue Yang might have a concussion and my potion for that is still brewing. Also, this isn't helping the prince, if something bad is indeed happening.” Wen Qing sounded firm.

Xue Yang was pleased to note that Song Lan looked a little ashamed.

“Also, no, I don't think Xue Yang could have either charged or disarmed the wards, although...” She rummaged around on a little table, then held something up.

“Did you know this was magical? Where did you even get it?”

The pendant.

Xue Yang felt his neck. It wasn't there, only a sore spot where it had rested against his skin.

“I, uh, may have taken it from some lord's treasure room, before I got chased in the wild lands. Actually, the gem in it was requested by... somebody as a potions ingredient. Why do you have it?”

He couldn't read Wen Qing's face. After a moment, she handed it back to him.

“It burned you, but it might have also protected you against the attacker's magic. Song Lan found you some way away from the wards; anyway, the wards shouldn't attack just anyone. While the definition of hostile army is vague, a lone traveller is not it. So either someone targeted you because you saw something or it was the pendant or...” She shrugged.

“Probably the former,” Song Lan said.

Wen Qing nodded. “I'll have a look in my books, see if I can find anything. It is odd that someone with magic similar to the queen's can affect the royal family's wards.”

“We need to warn Xingchen,” Xue Yang said again, but no one responded.

Wen Qing had gotten up, maybe to consult one of her many books.

Song Lan seemed lost in thought.

“It smelled like lightning,” he said absently, then started. “I thought it was just the smell of the singed earth, but... A-Yang did you notice any particular smell?”

A-Yang? Song Lan has never called me that before.

Xue Yang tried to focus. “I told you, there was a warm gust of wind; it smelled of-”

“You didn't mention that.”

“Yes, I did. Warm wind smelling of...” Xue Yang tried to remember. “Summer rain? Hot stones after rain?”

“Petrichor,” Wen Qing said, sounding shocked.

Song Lan's eyes were wide.

“What?” Xue Yang hoped hitting his head hadn't done lasting damage, because he wasn't following.

“That's the scent of Yanling Daoren's magic.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

It was one thing to keep secrets for Xingchen. Keeping secrets from him was another matter entirely.

“Don't worry, gege, I'm very good at keeping secrets,” Xue Yang assured him.

Song Lan believed him, though it only made him feel marginally better. He also wasn't sure how they'd gotten so familiar, but since they've effectively become co-conspirators, he couldn't complain too much.

Besides, there were more important things at stake. Such as their secret plan to keep Xingchen safe. Secret, because they didn't know who they could trust. And...

“We just don't have enough evidence yet,” Song Lan said, not for the first time. “That's Xingchen's uncle we're accusing.”

“And I'm a criminal and wouldn't be believed by the royal council, I know, I know.” Xue Yang rolled his eyes, then turned away.

They were currently walking the gardens, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

The weather had gotten a bit milder again, the snow patchy and greying, with brownish grass peeking through here and there. A thin layer of snow covered the dark hedges, everything black and white, apart from the hopeful yellow blossoms of the winter jasmine.

They didn't say anything further for a while. There really was no need; they'd been over everything countless times already.

Wen Qing was still looking through her books in the hopes of finding clues about the wards and magic.

Xingchen probably should check on the wards, but apart from everything else, that was dangerous too.

What if the tampered-with-wards hurt Xingchen? What if it really was Daoren, doing gods know what? Maybe it was Daoren, but he didn't do anything bad? Why sneak around then?

The only reason to do anything to the wards, really, was to open the path for a foreign incursion.

Why would Daoren work with the Wen? Because realistically, it could only be them.

It would hurt Xingchen so much, if his uncle really turned out to be a traitor.

Honestly, Song Lan still struggled to believe it. There were too many questions, too little sense in all of it. Then again, hadn't he had a bad feeling for a while now?

Only weeks ago, he would have blamed Xue Yang without a second thought. In spite of the magic pendant, however, Wen Qing had assured him he had no powers of his own.

It also wouldn't have made any sense to come back, if it was his doing.

Song Lan had seen the tracks with his own eyes after all: the horse had been turned back before Xue Yang had had the accident.

So. Twice, Xue Yang had had a chance to escape; twice he'd returned for Xingchen.

Song Lan was glad for it. Wen Qing tried, but she was so busy already. It would have been unbearable to carry the weight of this secret on his own.

“So we're sticking to the plan?” Xue Yang asked eventually.

They'd reached the viewing spot. Down in the valley, the town's lights twinkled.

“Yes. Let's get through midwinter, the ball. Let's not have a diplomatic incident.”

Xue Yang smiled. It was oddly timed, but his smiles always looked so pretty, sharp but bright, sunshine where Xingchen's were starlight.

“Ah, yes. Wouldn't want to inconvenience the visiting Wen dignitaries and other higher-ups.”

“I'm not sure we'll really get Wen visitors,” Song Lan said.

“I don't know why you're still not seeing things clearly. Of course it was Yanling Daoren. Of course he needs the Wen, you said yourself that he doesn't have enough support at court. Xingchen controls the military.”

“Civil war for the crown?”

“People have done worse for a crown,” Xue Yang said.

He wasn't wrong. Only...

“Daoren's magic is the colour of amber. Once again, we have no proof. Apart from people not believing a criminal, you also hit your head. Maybe you just fell off your horse and dreamed it." Song Lan paused when he realised that that made no sense. After all, he'd seen the singed earth, too. "Well, alright, not everything, but maybe you dreamed some of it. Anyway, we can't tell Xingchen the truth, not right now.”

“Would he agree with you?”

Song Lan froze in surprise.

Maybe not, if he was perfectly honest. Still. Yes, they'd need to check on the wards soon, but there really was no point in worrying Xingchen now, when they knew so little.

“Alright, then. Not midwinter. After he's back from the shrine. It's only a few days,” Song Lan said. “I'll keep an eye on Daoren while you're both away.”

While he'd love to be by Xingchen's side, guarding Daoren might be almost better at this point.

And if the mysterious assailant was someone else after all, Song Lan had already alerted Jiao Changshun to danger, though he'd had to omit some things. Anyway, Changshun and the other guards would protect Xingchen.

“You know, I'm pretty handy in a fight, too,” Xue Yang said, as though he'd read Song Lan's mind. “I fight dirty.” When Song Lan looked, the menace was grinning. “As long as it's not a dozen armed men with hounds.”

“So you can laugh at it now?”

Xue Yang shrugged. “You know how it is. Sometimes, you have to laugh or else you'd cry.”

It was said breezily, but Song Lan couldn't deny the truth of it.

They were already on their way back, descending down the gentle slope back to the castle, when it happened.

Xue Yang, slightly behind Song Lan, must have slipped on an icy patch. He reached for a nearby branch and missed, only succeeding in shaking loose the snow.

Then he fell right into Song Lan's arms.

For a moment, they just stood there, frozen.

Song Lan hadn't even realised he'd tried to catch him, though admittedly it wasn't his first time catching a pretty boy, since Xingchen could be rather absentminded.

Xue Yang had a sugaring of snow on his face and his eyes were wide.

They stared at each other, faces so close together.

So close, it was easy to bridge the gap. Song Lan couldn't have said who made the first move.

When their lips touched, Xue Yang's were warm and soft. His mouth, when he opened it, inviting Song Lan in, was hot.

Sunshine on this winter's day.

They kissed under the cover of the trees in the wintry gardens, for what could have been minutes or hours.

When they broke apart, Song Lan had to gasp for air and Xue Yang's lips were parted and slick with spit.

Song Lan's heart was pounding, his stomach full of butterflies yet his chest was tight, because he, too, had betrayed Xingchen now. In a way, at least.

Then again, isn't it for the best?

Xingchen deserved better than Song Lan, even if he didn't have to choose someone else anyway.

Even so, when he finally had breath to speak again, the name of his friend, his love, his prince, was still the first word on his tongue.

At the same time, Xue Yang also opened his mouth.

“Xingchen,” they said in unison.

Song Lan choked out a laugh, but he might as well have been crying.

Xue Yang's laugh was wild like storm winds, dark like raven wings.

“What are we doing? Why are you kissing me? You're the prince's lover.”

“I'm his knight,” Song Lan replied mechanically. Then he stared. “We're not lovers.”

Xue Yang looked surprised, then angry. “Don't take me for a fool. You love each other. A blind person could see it.”

“Of course I love him,” Song Lan hissed, his own temper flaring, meeting Xue Yang's. “How could I not? But he's my prince; he lives for this country. I am only a knight.”

Xue Yang bared his teeth in a snarl. “Only a fool, is what you are. He loves you, too. He needs to be loved, can't you see that?”

They were still too close together. In a flash, they were kissing again, harshly this time, teeth scraping against lips.

The heat around us should melt the snow.

When they broke apart this time, Song Lan tasted blood on his tongue; he couldn't have said if it was his or Xue Yang's.

“I'm sorry,” he said, sounding almost desperate. “To you and Xingchen.”

“Don't be sorry,” Xue Yang said, voice harsh. “Just make it right. For Xingchen, I mean. Don't worry about me, I'm a big boy and I will leave...”

He broke off, eyes suddenly distant.

The snow on his face had melted, but there was more snow in his hair. Song Lan reached out, gently brushing it off. Xue Yang leaned into his touch.

“We should deal with the issue at hand,” Song Lan ventured. “Then we can talk, maybe all of us...”

“What's there to talk about,” Xue Yang muttered, his pretty, kissed-red lips curled in derision. Then he looked up at Song Lan, seemingly uncertain all of a sudden. “Do you think Xingchen will be angry?”

“It's Xingchen,” Song Lan pointed out. “He might be hurt, if he really is interested in me or either of us, but he'll deny it and he'd still wish us the best.”

Xue Yang huffed a humourless laugh. "He's a prince; he'll never be interested in a criminal like me that way."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Song Lan muttered, without considering if this was a wise thing to say, but a-Yang seemed so vulnerable right now. 

Besides, didn't I think he liked Xue Yang, right from the start? Just like it's clear as day that Xue Yang likes him.

"You're taking me for a fool again," Xue Yang complained.

Song Lan shook his head. "No, but in the end, it doesn't signify whether he likes either of us or how he feels about this kiss. His priority is this kingdom."

Xue Yang nodded, but didn't look satisfied or convinced.

“Though I wouldn't mind if he was angry, anyway,” Song Lan said. “Not if he kissed us about it, too.”

This time, Xue Yang smiled.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The next day, Song Lan wondered if his mind had been addled.

Yet, he couldn't regret kissing Xue Yang, though he still loved Xingchen more than he'd ever loved anyone. Saving Xingchen was still the priority, for both him and Xue Yang, he was sure.

He pushed all other thoughts away, since he wasn't a lovesick youth, but a grown man, a knight and Captain of the Royal Guard.

He had duties. For once, he wasn't even angry that those led him away from Xingchen on this occasion. He didn't want him to read anything on his face. Besides, Song Lan might be able to notice something that would help with their investigations while he was observing Daoren.

Though he wished he'd seen Xingchen before he'd left, accompanied by Jiao Changshun, two more guards, and Xue Yang.

It'll only be a couple of days.

Hopefully, soon, there'd be no more danger or secrets. For now, while Song Lan didn't look forward to guarding Daoren, a-Qing would be present as well.

He was already on his way to meet the princess and the count, when Wen Qing drew him into an alcove in the corridor.

“I found something,” she whispered.

Song Lan immediately focussed. “Yes?”

“Apparently, while it's rare, magic can change colour during a person's life. Sometimes due to illness or a shock, but sometimes, when a close relative dies, their magic seems to alter that of their close blood relations.”

“So are we thinking...” Song Lan mouthed the name, scared to be overheard even now.

Wen Qing gave a small nod. “And... I saw him this morning at breakfast. He spotted Xue Yang and he was... shocked. As though he thought he'd seen the last of him.”

Anger rose in Song Lan and he had to force himself to calm down. It would be hard to act normal around the man, but he'd do anything to keep Xingchen – and Xue Yang, and the others – safe.

“Well, at least I have a good excuse to keep an eye on him, until we figure out how to proceed,” he said.

“I'll have a think, too,” Wen Qing said. “Good luck, a-Lan.”

Then she left; Song Lan took a deep breath, before hurrying on his way.

Outside the stables, a-Qing and Qin Su already waited next to the litter, both smiling at him.

“Let's go, Song-ge.” A-Qing familiarly patted his arm.

“We still need to wait for Count Daoren, Princess,” Song Lan reminded her patiently.

“Oh, have you not heard?” A-Qing looked up at him. “He's gone off to the shrine with gege, after all. Didn't want to leave him alone with the delinquent, though I told him Xue Yang isn't that bad.”

She turned around, to let Qin Su help her arrange her skirts for the litter, which was just as well.

That way, she didn't see the shock on Song Lan's face.

He tried to calm himself. It wasn't like there was a Wen army on the way, after all. If the Count hadn't done anything so far, what could he do now?

Not much. Right?

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Xue Yang had never travelled in a litter before. He could have happily gone his entire life without the experience.

It was cold, dimly-lit and stuffy, all at the same time. Worse, it was jerking about so much his bones rattled.

There was one saving grace about it, however: he was sitting next to Xingchen-ge.

Xingchen-ge, who he had to address as “my prince” on this journey. Now that Xue Yang was only play-acting again, however, he didn't mind.

Of course, he would have preferred for Yanling Daoren to not be taking up the entire bench opposite them. There was nothing to be done about it, though. He couldn't very well push the man down the mountain.

Not while Xingchen is looking, anyway. Realistically also not without proof. It would upset Song Lan-ge, too.

Song Lan would no doubt be fretting right now about the change in plans. Xue Yang on the other hand was used to having to improvise. At least he could keep an eye on Xingchen.

Though sadly, he could not daydream about his passionate kiss with Song Lan, even if he still felt the knight's lips on his.

Apart from everything else, it felt disloyal towards Xingchen. Maybe Song Lan was right; they'd need to talk.

One positive was that Xue Yang knew he was unnerving Count Daoren. Earlier that day, at breakfast, he'd looked like his heart might stop when he'd spotted Xue Yang. Apparently, he'd been convinced his magic had done the job of getting rid of him.

Xue Yang didn't at all doubt that the count was responsible for the ominous happenings, whatever the colour of his magic. While the man tried to act nonchalant, even sweet, trusting Xingchen had noticed that something was off.

“Are you well, jiujiu? You look pale.”

“Just the litter, Xing'er.”

It was a good excuse, Xue Yang had to admit. He had to fight not to bristle at “Xing'er”, however.

How dare that man talk to Xingchen as though he loves him while scheming dark schemes!

Dark schemes which Xue Yang would uncover. Or perhaps Song Lan or Wen Qing.

Daoren met his eyes and Xue Yang cast his gaze down, like a demure, well-behaved servant. He could have sworn Daoren was rolling his eyes at it.

“A-Yang, you're allowed to go on errands into the town now?” Daoren asked sweetly.

“Indeed, the prince was kind enough to let me accompany him recently,” Xue Yang replied just as sweetly.

Next to him, Xingchen seemed bemused.

Yanling Daoren laughed cheerfully. “Oh, I meant on your own. Wasn't it you, in the woods the other day?”

“I don't think so, jiujiu. Xue Yang fell on the stairs and had a concussion,” Xingchen threw in.

“As the prince says,” Xue Yang replied innocently. “Are you often in the woods then, sire?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xingchen frown.

“No,” Daoren said curtly. He moved the drapes to peek out, which he'd been doing frequently. “Xing'er, how far away is this shrine? I think we need a break for the animals' sake if not for mine.”

“We can stop.” Xingchen opened the drapes, too, to alert the guards.

Xue Yang could hear the grizzled guard's voice. “Prince, let's go a little further, this spot isn't ideal-”

Daoren sighed loudly.

Xingchen said: “Let's stop here. It won't be long, Knight Jiao.”

Though Xue Yang disliked Daoren, the man had a point. Stretching his legs would be nice.

His heart sank when he looked out. They'd travelled for what felt like forever, but they hadn't even left the woods. The shrine would surely be above the treeline.

All around them were dark pine trees.

Now that they'd stopped, Daoren was strangely enough not the first to get out.

Xue Yang wondered if he was supposed to give the nobles a hand. Just in case, he jumped out.

It was just him and the three guards, one of whom was also leading the mules carrying the litter. They weren't on their usual horses, but smaller, hardier mountain horses like the one he'd ridden. The mountains were difficult to traverse, it seemed.

Jiao Changshun was looking around with a grumpy expression. A-Yuan – who was another relative of Wen Qing, Xue Yang had learned - had slid down from his mount and was checking his saddle.

The third guard was staring into the trees.

Xue Yang had reached out a hand to help Xingchen down. Xingchen took it, smiling at him. Then he frowned. "Are you alright, a-Yang?"

No. There was danger afoot, Xue Yang suddenly knew with terrible certainty. Yanling Daoren wanted us stop here. Why? It can't be good...

He tried pushing the prince back into the litter, but Xingchen resisted, baffled, so Xue Yang steadied him instead.

At the same time, the older guard shouted: “Ambush! A-Yuan, the litter-”

His voice cut off in a scream, then there was a thump.

When Xue Yang turned, the guard was lying on the floor under his horse, which had been hit by an arrow.

The horse got back up; a-Yuan had mounted his own already, but all around them were armed people, their faces covered, blocking in the litter. Bandits?

One of them ripped away Knight Jiao's armour, slashing at his neck.

A-Yuan had pulled his sword but looked sick with shock.

He had no time to mourn his comrade. The third guard attacked him and a-Yuan fought. Not bandits, then.

Xue Yang looked at the arrow again, its blood-red fletching.

Isn't that the colour of the Wen?

“Run, a-Yang,” Xingchen said, so selfless even now. He, too, had his sword drawn. It glowed with icy-white light.

“Xingchen, get back inside,” Yanling Daoren said, but it sounded flat, feeble. He hadn't come out.

This is your doing, Xue Yang didn't say. He didn't run, either.

Instead, he drew his dagger.

Xingchen had already finished off two attackers, magic flaring, but there were so many, a dozen at least. Not bandits, not an army. Mercenaries.

A-Yuan, too, was fighting.

A great sword came for Xingchen's back.

Xue Yang shouted to get the attacker's attention, then jumped aside just in time as the man turned on him.

Unfortunately for his attacker, the sword got stuck in the wooden post of the litter.

Even more unfortunately, the man's chain mail didn't quite reach up to his chin.

Xue Yang's dagger slashed the man's throat before he could free the sword, warm blood spilling over Xue Yang's hand. The man fell with a gurgling sound.

“A-Yuan, ride for help!” Daoren screamed.

The man was outside now, but not doing anything useful. No one was attacking him.

Knight Jiao was dead, as was the traitor guard. A-Yuan, the stupid boy, actually rode off, though maybe it was for the best. Maybe he could get help.

Xingchen was fighting like one of the immortal warriors of old, trailing silver-white fire, not even noticing his useless uncle.

Xue Yang finished off another attacker with his dagger, but he was at a severe disadvantage without a sword and amour. Some things never change.

He turned his attention to the worst villain.

Too late. Daoren's hands were flaring up in indigo light. He advanced on Xue Yang, no longer smiling.

Clearly, he'd been annoyed at Xue Yang messing up his plans.

Xingchen had cut down another assailant, danced away from arrows, so gracefully, but his magic or strength surely couldn't last forever.

Daoren had his back turned, but Xingchen saw him about to attack Xue Yang.

“Jiujiu! No!” he screamed.

Daoren whirled around.

The indigo fire only grazed Xue Yang, but it was enough to throw him back. He hit the ground hard. Someone screamed.

Xue Yang ignored the vague pain, scrambling up to see Xingchen being hit by the purple-blue flames, though the prince's own magic flared up, forming an icy shield.

It seemed enough to deflect the attack; then it petered out.

Xue Yang was back on his feet, scraped up but not gravely hurt.

Daoren was wearing armour, up to his chin, but no helmet. His back was still turned. The handle of Xue Yang's dagger hit the man's skull.

Daoren crumpled and fell, probably only unconscious but no longer an issue.

Xingchen, too, had fainted. At least, Xue Yang hoped so.

It must be that; he can't be dead.

There were still attackers. Three.

One, closest to Xingchen, lifted his sword almost lazily, preparing to cut down the unconscious prince-

An arrow hit the attacker's unshielded face. He couldn't even scream as he fell.

The others whirled around.

Xue Yang tried to get close to Xingchen, but he was too slow-

The brown horse galloped out from between the trees, Song Lan's sword gleaming in the light.

One of the attackers tried to engage Song Lan, slowing him down; he never stood a chance.

Xue Yang threw his dagger at the last assailant, closest to Xingchen.

It bounced off his armour, but served to distract.

Before the man could take up his assassination attempt again, Song Lan was there, his blade cutting the man's throat so savagely it almost severed his head.

Then there was silence.

“A-Yang. Are you alright?” Song Lan asked, sliding from his horse.

Xue Yang nodded. Truthfully, he wasn't sure, but he'd live. Probably.

The icy ground around them looked gruesome now, soaked with blood.

Daoren was still out.

So was Xingchen.

Song Lan and Xue Yang both went to him. 

Xingchen was white as snow and blood trickled from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He was deathly still.

“What's wrong with him?”

“He used up too much magic. The soldiers will be here soon, we'll get him back...”

Song Lan was clearly trying to stay calm, but Xue Yang could see the fear in his eyes.

He was right, though. Moments later, the thunder of hooves could be heard, coming closer.

Then they were there in the little clearing, wearing the livery of Tian Shan's palace, surrounding the prince. Song Lan was barking orders; Xue Yang was catching his breath.

“What happened here?” someone apparently important asked.

“We were ambushed! They knew him! The criminal! Xue Yang tried to murder me! Treason!” someone else shouted.

Xue Yang turned, to see Daoren sitting up, bleeding from his head and pointing at him.

“Not true!” he screamed.

No one listened. The soldiers closed in on him.

He couldn't see Song Lan any more in the chaos. Anyway, he needs to save Xingchen, not me.

Xue Yang looked around wildly, but this time, there was no help and no escape.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Back in the dungeon again, covered in another man's blood. If there were gods, they had a strange sense of humour.

The moon was waxing again. Silver light spilled onto the stone cot where Xue Yang was sitting, his arms around his drawn up legs, hugging himself for warmth.

There was no blanket and no water this time.

Does that mean that Daoren is the regent now? Is Xingchen still unconscious? Or...

Xue Yang couldn't even finish the thought. Song Lan had seemed to think Xingchen would be alright. At least, he'd wanted to believe it.

Xue Yang might never know. He was to hang at dawn.

If Xingchen was dead or didn't wake up in time...

Even if he was alright, would Xingchen's account of what happened be enough to convince the nobles and thus save Xue Yang? Would Xingchen even believe that his uncle was a traitor? He might come to a different conclusion.

Xue Yang should have been angry, at the prince, at Song Lan, without whom he'd never been in this situation in the first place.

No, because you'd have been dead for about two months already by now.

It wasn't that Xue Yang had no regrets; it wasn't that he didn't fear the morning. His heart held so much resentment at the unfairness of the world.

Pain twinged in the long-buried bones of his left hand, and Xue Yang put his chin down on his arms, suddenly so very weary.

Still. Hadn't it all been worth it, for the last two months or so?

If only I could have kissed Xingchen, too.

So sappy. Xue Yang huffed a laugh.

Besides, wasn't he lying to himself? He should have run when he could.

Then another thought struck him: what if it had all been a dream? What if he'd been in this dungeon the entire time and none of it had happened?

He had to laugh out loud then; it echoed something awful in the dark, cavernous space.

No, no dream. I could never have conjured up someone like Xingchen or Song Lan.

Moonlight painted patterns onto the dungeon wall and Xue Yang was still alive to see another day.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Song Lan had ridden like the wind, with Wen Ning, who'd fired the arrow that had saved Xingchen when they arrived.

They'd met a-Yuan on the way, who'd gone to alert the soldiers.

Xue Yang clearly had fought, as had Xingchen. Yet, it had all been for nought.

Changshun-shifu had been slain, another guard had turned traitor. Song Lan couldn't mourn or process the betrayal just yet.

Xue Yang would be executed, if they couldn't prove that Yanling Daoren was lying.

Xingchen was lying pale and still on a bed in Wen Qing's treatment room. Not dead, but also somehow more unconscious than he should have been.

The room was warm, though occasionally Wen Qing let in icy air, because apparently it was important.

Song Lan wanted to go save Xue Yang or at the very least see how he was doing, but no one was allowed into the dungeon. While he could put up a fight about it, there must be more helpful things he could do for now, such as finding evidence.

Only, his mind had gone blank. Besides, he couldn't even have reassured a-Yang without lying.

Wen Qing had gone off, trying to investigate some of the bandits' armour for magic.

“There is no way they could have withstood Xingchen's magic for any amount of time without protective spells,” she'd said. She unfortunately wasn't quite sure how to help Xingchen, which scared Song Lan witless. “This is a magical sleep, probably caused by the excessive use of his magic or perhaps it's a result of Daoren attacking him with magic. Hopefully he'll wake when he feels called upon. You should talk to him, you two have always been close; maybe he hears you where he didn't hear me.”

That seemed terrifyingly vague. Song Lan had heard stories about kings asleep in mountains and princesses sleeping for a hundred years. He couldn't wait that long, even if a-Yang's life hadn't been in danger. And what if Xingchen got worse and died?

He was alone now, the only sound that of Wen Qing's water clock and Xingchen's soft breathing when Song Lan leaned very close.

“You mustn't die, Xingxing,” Song Lan told his dearest friend quietly. “Tian Shan needs you. A-Yang needs you. I need you.”

His voice broke and he had to catch his breath. Unsurprisingly, Xingchen didn't stir.

To his horror, Song Lan saw that outside, a greenish-grey light in the east heralded a new day. He needed to go save Xue Yang. Not only would it be so much harder already without the prince's testimony and trustworthiness, but what if Xingchen died in the meantime?

He took Xingchen's hands in his own. They were still cold, but warmer than they'd been. Song Lan held them tightly. Then he cleared his throat.

“We're out of time; I need to go help a-Yang,” he started, then broke off.

Even though Xingchen was unconscious and there was no one else around, the words were heavy on his tongue. He had to say them, though, at least once, or he'd regret it forever.

Leaning closer, Song Lan whispered: “Xiao Xingxing. I love you. Whatever happens, I love you so much.”

Then he leaned in, to chastely and tenderly kiss Xingchen's forehead. He put Xingchen's hands down on the covers gently.

Song Lan got up, to find Wen Qing so she could watch over Xingchen while he tried to help Xue Yang.

He'd not gotten far, when a groggy voice said: “Zichen?”

He whirled around, to see Xingchen blinking at him. “Xingchen!”

Song Lan was next to him in a heartbeat, making an odd noise and blinking back tears. “You're awake, I was so worried...”

Xingchen reached out a hand. Song Lan took it, though he'd need to leave in a moment.

Xingchen's voice was faint; Song Lan had to lean in.

“Did you mean it? Just now?”

Song Lan was confused for a second, then he could feel his ears grow warm, in spite of all the more pressing things. He nodded, though. “Yes. I've loved you for years.”

“I love you, too.” Xingchen smiled a small, sweet smile. “So you can kiss me properly, Zichen.”

When Song Lan only stared at him in wonder, Xingchen pouted. “Or do you not want to? You don't have to, of course-”

Song Lan kissed him. The kiss was still chaste: gentle, close-lipped, Xingchen caught by surprise in spite of his words. Then Xingchen parted his lips, hungrily it seemed, his tongue meeting Song Lan's.

Song Lan didn't want this moment to end, he'd been waiting for so, so long...

A-Yang.

He pulled back.

As though he'd read his mind, Xingchen asked: “What was that about a-Yang earlier?”

Before Song Lan could reply, the door burst open. Wen Qing's hair was a mess, she had dark circles under her eyes and was out of breath, but she was smiling. “I found it! Proof of Yanling Daoren's magic on the so-called bandits' armour.” Then she seemed to take in the scene, her eyes widening in surprise before her expression softened into an amazed smile. "Xingchen. You really woke him, a-Lan. How?"

Song Lan could feel his entire face grow hot now, as though now was a moment for shame. "Later. We have a troublemaker to save, who turned out to be a hero, too. Do you think you can get up, Xingxing?”

“Of course.”

Song Lan steadied Xingchen, just to be sure.

“Alright, let's go free Xue Yang.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The scaffold, tucked away in a dark courtyard by the castle's outer walls, had been gathering dust even during Queen Baoshan's reign.

Xingchen had been meaning to burn it, Song Lan knew.

There was no crowd watching, the only witnesses the required officials and a small smattering of nobles, by the looks of it mostly Daoren's acolytes. Their numbers looked insignificant even in the smallish space.

Not that Song Lan could count them or even look at them properly. Now that Xingchen was safe, alive and well, he only had eyes for a-Yang.

The first rays of the sun were on Xue Yang, bathing him in gold. He looked small against the cruel gallows, his hands bound at his back.

Xue Yang was smiling though, brightly, sharply, as though he had no fear and nothing could touch him.

This time, Song Lan wasn't fooled. He could see the moment when Xue Yang spotted them, his smile slipping away, his eyes widening. 

Xingchen nudged Song Lan. “Go to him, Zichen,” he urged. “We'll do the rest.”

He didn't need to say it twice.

Song Lan didn't let anyone stop him, though it probably helped that those guards were his guards. Apparently not everyone had turned traitor.

They stood down for Song Lan even as Yanling Daoren called something.

Then he was next to Xue Yang, putting his arms around him.

“Song Lan,” Xue Yang said, sounding close to tears for the first time he'd known him. He was suddenly shaking violently in his arms.

Song Lan held him tightly, shielding him with his body. “You'll be alright; everything will be alright.”

Behind Song Lan, Xingchen's voice rang out, commanding and clear: “The ambush was laid by Count Yanling Daoren. Arrest him, and free Xue Yang. He is no longer accused of treason, nor of any other crime and is free to go as he pleases.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

In the blink of an eye, it was midwinter.

Xue Yang had thought he'd explored the castle pretty well, yet somehow, he'd completely missed the huge ballroom with its gleaming wooden floors and glittering chandeliers.

Well, for a long time no one had been in the mood for celebrating, least of all him.

What a difference a fortnight can make.

The guests had not arrived yet. Even so, the once sombre, half-deserted castle was busy, its halls decorated with fragrant pine, holly and white flowers, the latter a nod to the ongoing mourning period for the late queen.

Outside the ballroom's arched windows with their brocade hangings, the sun made the snow in the grounds sparkle in the colours of Xingchen's magic.

Xue Yang had learned that his magic sword even had a name: Shuanghua, frost in all its splendour. How fitting.

“Aiya, why are the tables not here yet? Where in all hells are the chairs?”

It was the princess, sounding like a fishwife.

Qin Su said something sensible and soothing, but Xue Yang rolled his eyes at a-Qing. “How are people expected to dance if you clutter the place up?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who died and made you master of ceremonies? You know nothing of balls, don't pretend otherwise. Why are you even still here? You could've left Tian Shan ages ago.”

Not so long ago, Xue Yang would have gotten angry. Now, he laughed, though he had to bite back a comment about how he knew quite a lot about balls, actually.

“Are you blind? Do you not see the snow? How am I, a poor traveller, to leave in the midst of winter?” he asked instead.

“I seem to remember offering you the position of chief potion-maker,” Xingchen said.

Xue Yang hadn't seen him come in. He was wearing warm pink and he looked happier than he had since finding out about his uncle's treason. “I also seem to remember you accepting the position.”

“Oh, that. Yes, I guess Qing-jie would be upset if I upped and left.”

“Yes, Qing-jie and no one else, I'm sure.” Xingchen lightly flicked Xue Yang's forehead in passing.

They still hadn't kissed, even though Song Lan and Xue Yang had told Xingchen everything. Even though Xingchen had confessed his own burgeoning feelings for them (or more than burgeoning, in Song Lan's case). Even though Song Lan and Xingchen had already kissed, too.

Not that Xue Yang could blame them. Song Lan had thought Xingchen might be dying, but even without that wrinkle, those two fools had been long overdue their first kiss. And many more. Probably some fucking, too. Xue Yang wasn't sure if that had happened yet, but he didn't think so.

A lot had been going on, after all, what with people dying and turning traitors and all of that. Not least Xue Yang's own almost-execution, though at this point, that was just a normal day for him.

In any case, even after he'd set him free, Xingchen had said they needed time to deeply consider their feelings, especially Xue Yang. Apparently, he didn't want to be the kind of prince who would coerce his servants into intimacy, or something.

Xue Yang might have felt snubbed, except he now knew what kind of a person Xingchen was.

The kind of person who'd only sent his would-be murderer into exile. Both Xue Yang and Song Lan had had misgivings about letting Yanling Daoren scheme his dark schemes elsewhere, but Xingchen had adamantly opposed capital punishment. In fact, he'd abolished it altogether.

A-Qing kept threatening to reinstate it when she'd be queen, but since the latter was years away, one could hope she'd yet outgrow her vengeful urges.

In any case, that was another change: Xiao Xingchen wishing to only be interim regent until a-Qing would come of age. Though he would always lend his magic to Tian Shan and help his meimei, it would allow him to move more freely, while the realm would have a queen again. A-Qing would not have to move away for marriage. She'd agreed, though of course there was still much to discuss.

This wasn't Xue Yang's problem, though. Indeed, it was a problem for the future.

He became aware that he was still standing in the ballroom while around him, last moment decorating efforts were taking place, Xingchen and a-Qing good-naturedly arguing about something or other.

Since Xue Yang's assistance was neither required nor particularly welcome, he decided to change for the evening.

Before that, however, he went to look for Song Lan.

Unsurprisingly, he found him in the cold, draughty guardhouse, poring over maps.

“You're not going to hide here all evening, are you?” Xue Yang asked.

Song Lan glared at him, his dark eyes cold as the Tian Shan winter. Xue Yang grinned at him, undeterred.

“You know as well as I do that there's still potential danger from the Wen forces, even if Yanling Daoren has lost all but his core supporters.”

Xue Yang sat down on the table, obscuring the maps so Song Lan was forced to focus on him and only him.

“Sure, but firstly, what are the odds of them attacking today, in this weather? And secondly, tonight will still be important for diplomatic reasons.”

This was true, even though Daoren's diplomatic efforts had turned out to have been mostly fraudulent. They'd pieced together that the man had conspired with Wen Ruohan, who'd offered him military assistance for a takeover in exchange for tribute in the form of salt, Snow Flowers, and access to the mountain pass towards the hermit kingdom, Gusu.

However, Xue Yang had connections to Lanling's court, after all. Xingchen had been willing to give it a shot and Meng Yao had answered his letters swiftly and remarkably courteously.

Song Lan got up from his chair, immediately towering over Xue Yang.

Xue Yang spread his legs, allowing him to stand between them.

The knight was actually smirking, an expression Xue Yang was still not used to seeing on Song Lan, least of all when it was aimed at him. While the knight was always handsome, it made him altogether too appealing.

“Nervous, baobei?” Song Lan asked teasingly.

That was new, too, both the teasing and the endearment. While Xingchen was “love” and “my sweet prince” to Song Lan, Xue Yang was baobei. He could work with that.

“No, not nervous at all,” he now lied brazenly.

Nervous, about his old and new life colliding tonight, not to mention about the implications for the future of Tian Shan? Well...

Song Lan snorted, then looked at him quizzically, so careful and chivalrous after their first spontaneous kiss. “Yes?”

Xue Yang nodded.

Song Lan leaned in and any anxious worries Xue Yang might have had turned into butterflies instead.

He still hadn't kissed Xingchen, still hadn't fucked either of them, but this was pretty good in the meantime.

The understatement of the century.

Song Lan's large hands were holding Xue Yang, leaning him back over the table, Xue Yang's legs locking around the knight's hips, drawing him in. Like this, he could feel Song Lan's cock, huge even when not fully hard.

Xue Yang couldn't wait for the festivities to be over, couldn't wait for Xingchen to deem him free enough to make up his mind.

Xingchen-ge seems to want us all to be together, too, what is he stalling for?

Then, Song Lan kissed him again and Xue Yang didn't think about anything much at all any more.

What a difference a few weeks can make, indeed.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Midwinter fell on a full moon this year, easing travel.

It was no wonder then that all the guests invited seemed to actually arrive, though a lot of the ball's attendees were actually the nobles who'd returned to court.

The tide had turned and Xingchen was suddenly very popular again.

Hopefully he'd be even more popular after a deal with Lanling had been struck. Not that Xue Yang could really focus on politics right now.

The delicious smell of food emanated from the kitchens, a pipa player had set up in the antechamber, while a whole host of musicians had been moving towards the ballroom. Children were running up and down the corridors.

Everyone was dressed up and looked happy, bathed in golden candlelight.

No one looked better than Xingchen, though.

He actually wore a crown today, which sparkled in his dark hair. For once, his white, lacy clothes seemed appropriate for the occasion.

Xue Yang watched him for a bit, greeting guests, then he mingled again himself.

Song Lan, strikingly handsome in a dress uniform, was talking to Qingyang, her husband, and daughter.

Wen Ning was enjoying a drink in a corner, waving shyly to Xue Yang.

A-Qing was holding court surrounded by a whole group of youth, including a-Yuan and an heir from some other duchy who was currently fervently reciting poetry to her. She seemed to enjoy it.

Wen Qing and Qin Su were chatting over some snacks.

Xue Yang was about to get some food or drink himself, when someone yelled: “Yangyang!”

He had barely time to turn, before Xuanyu flung his arms around his neck. So somebody had missed him.

“You're alive!”

“Just about, yeah.” Xue Yang grinned and mussed up a-Yu's hair like he used to when the latter was still a kid. “Sorry I couldn't write sooner, didi. Did you come on your own?”

Xuanyu stopped hugging him to look around. “No, Yao-ge was here, but he insisted on talking to the prince first. There he is.”

Indeed, Meng Yao, having also cleaned up rather nicely, was walking towards them without any urgency.

“This is an acceptable substitute for the pendant, Chengmei,” he said by way of greeting and Xue Yang scowled. “Though I wonder what you told the prince. He doesn't seem to have the best opinion of me. Apparently I coerced you into doing crimes for me?”

“You did,” Xue Yang pointed out.

After a moment, Meng Yao shrugged. “Maybe some of them. However, future missteps will all be your own.”

Xingchen and Song Lan had actually said something about that. No more thefts, no more lies, no more crimes. Xue Yang had promised to try his best. What more could he do?

“Anyway, Lanling and Tian Shan are allies now?” Xue Yang asked, getting the conversation back on topic.

“As soon as Lanling will have a new ruler in the new year.”

“Jin Guangyao,” a-Yu mouthed, as though Xue Yang hadn't gotten the hint.

“I'll extend my congratulations in due course,” he promised.

Meng Yao smiled, showing his dimples. “I'd ask who you bedded to get into your courtly position, but it's patently obvious.”

“Actually, I did that with the sole power of my charm and wits.” Xue Yang smiled.

Though honestly, he would have preferred to have fucked Xingchen and Song Lan about it. Soon.

Not long after, the actual dinner and celebrations got on the way.

Everyone – even Song Lan and Wen Ning – seemed to have a great time, though it wasn't until the dancing started that everyone really let their hair down.

The princess had opened the first dance, as was custom. She'd chosen the young noble poet, Ouyang Zizhen, as her partner.

Xingchen joined them, dancing with Song Lan.

Xue Yang couldn't be upset at his choice. Not only did the court seem to find it natural for the prince and his knight to dance, but those two deserved their moment.

Xingchen was laughing and Son Lan was smiling as they whirled through the room, the music swelling around them.

Xue Yang wasn't particularly fond of dancing, but he enjoyed revelries. He caught up with a-Yu, he sampled the desserts, he chatted with castle staff, then he danced with Wen Qing and one of the kitchen maids after all.

Later on, he sat at a table by the windows, heated from the drink and merriments, when Song Lan joined him. He, too, looked heated, no longer so frosty.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“I know our story had a rough start, but I'm glad we crossed paths that night,” Song Lan said without preamble, his voice urgent.

Xue Yang laughed. “Are you drunk, gege?”

Song Lan frowned, looking offended. “No, I'm still on guard duty. I had one drink.”

Xue Yang laughed more. “Lightweight.”

“Brat,” Song Lan complained.

“Guilty as charged. Still happy we crossed paths, gege?”

Song Lan's face immediately lit up. It was actually really sweet.

“Always.”

So sweet in fact, Xue Yang had to lean in, in spite of the public setting. He did so slowly, however, giving Song Lan time to object if he wanted to.

He didn't. The kiss was as lovely as the entire evening.

They chatted for a bit after, about everything and nothing of consequence, but then Song Lan was waved over to where Wen Qing sat with her relatives.

“Go on; I'm fine,” Xue Yang urged him.

He rather liked watching the other guests, actually.

A-Yu had made friends with the group of youth. Wen Ning talked to another stable lad.

Meng Yao danced with Qin Su. They were both smiling more than Xue Yang had thought possible.

A-Qing, too, was still dancing with Ouyang Zizhen. They were gazing into each other's eyes like only youth who'd fallen in love at first sight could do.

“Having fun?”

Xue Yang looked around, meeting Xingchen's eyes. The prince had been busy all evening, so it was surprising to suddenly see him alone. His crown had slipped a little, sitting jauntily on his head.

Cute.

“Yeah. You?”

“It's been a good night,” Xingchen said.

Just then, the music changed.

“Can I have this dance?” the prince reached out a hand.

Xue Yang took it.

He let Xingchen lead, since the latter was obviously adept at courtly dances. Xue Yang certainly hadn't encountered this kind of slow dance before, their bodies pressed together scandalously close.

This late in the ball, no one seemed to care about it.

When they danced past a window, the full moon was up in the sky outside. Xue Yang decided he couldn't wait any longer.

“Xingchen-ge,” he started.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Xue Yang smiled at the endearment. “I've had time to think it over.”

“Not very much time, though. Look, I really want it, but I want you to want-”

“Xingchen. Can I kiss you?”

Xingchen bit his lips. He looked a little flushed, too, Xue Yang noticed. Cute.

Then, the prince nodded. “If you're sure.”

“Never been surer of anything.”

Theirs had been a whirlwind romance in a way. Well, maybe more a winter storm and ice rain romance with a sprinkling of disaster on top.

Nevertheless, Xue Yang meant it.

He kissed Xingchen. His lips were soft and warm, he smelled of citrus and spices, and for someone who probably hadn't kissed anyone but Song Lan, his tongue was skilled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xue Yang saw the latter, smiling at them from across the dancefloor.

Xingchen's hand slid down his back, settling on his waist, his grip surprisingly strong.

"What did you mean, that time, about us helping each other?" Xue Yang asked softly.

"Hm? Oh, that. To be honest, I felt like I couldn't trust anyone, other than Zichen and a handful of people, and you had no ties at court. Maybe a foolish idea. Mostly, I just liked that you treated me as a person, not a prince."

"Oh." So Xue Yang hadn't been that far off, with him needing a friend.

Xingchen closed his eyes, his lashes throwing delicate shadows over his luminous face.

Xue Yang leaned in for another kiss.

Somewhere in the castle, a clock struck midnight.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The morning after the ball, Xue Yang was the first to wake.

For a moment, he started, not knowing where he was. The air around him was cold and he only saw night blue fabric above him, fearing for a moment that the magic of last night had been nothing but an illusion.

Then he turned, to come face to face with his sleeping lovers.

He'd only rolled to the edge of the prince's huge canopy bed.

Xingchen himself was lying spread out in the middle, looking as content and adorable as a cosy cat. He'd apparently also stolen Xue Yang's blanket, not ideal since neither of them had bothered to get dressed again after last night's lovemaking.

Song Lan, lying on Xingchen's other side, had fared a little better, although he too was only half-covered by the blanket. His sleeping face no longer looked jade-hewn; instead, he looked like the handsome young knight he was.

Looking at them, Xue Yang couldn't help but revisit the last night.

They'd been Xingchen's first in the bedroom, too. Apparently, princes don't always have everything presented to them on a silver platter.

Well, technically, Song Lan had been Xingchen's first here, too, but once again, Xue Yang wasn't upset about it. They had looked so good together.

Song Lan hadn't been able to shake off his military training, taking over the logistics of the situation and deeming them too inexperienced for any proper three-way fucking, but they'd gotten to the point that everyone was satisfied.

Song Lan had told Xue Yang how beautiful he was, how strong, how sweet. Xingchen had asked if Xue Yang was sure, really sure, and had been so tender and affectionate.

No one had ever made love to him, as though he were something precious. He'd tried to do the same for them.

Xingchen's cock had felt so good and Song Lan's mouth had been so sweet on Xue Yang.

There had been a few pretty hilarious moments until they'd gotten there, though.

Xue Yang could feel laughter bubbling up, not just at the memory, but at everything, their whole absurd tale.

In order to not wake the others, he quickly got up, stealing Xingchen's pink house robe and slipping into the next room.

At least we won't have to worry about servants coming up, after last night.

The whole castle seemed asleep, though that probably wasn't true.

Xingchen's cat with the sapphire-blue eyes was sitting on the window seat, meowing accusingly at Xue Yang when she noticed him.

“Don't worry, I'm sure that bedroom is still mostly yours,” he told her. She seemed only marginally appeased, but let Xue Yang join her on the window seat.

It was still early, but the day had dawned bright and clear, the view over the grounds and mountains unobscured.

Inside, it was cosy, though the fire in the hearth was down to a few embers. Xue Yang, too, felt warm and sated, content to just sit here and wait for his prince and his knight.

Outside, ice flowers clung to the window panes, shimmering in the light of a morning that was more precious than any jewels.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · fin · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·