He studied her face like he was memorizing every scar, every flicker of defiance. Something shifted in his posture. The grip on her wrists loosened, then fell away completely.
You're faster than I expected. He stepped back, head tilted slightly. But you're bleeding all over my floor. Let me see that cut.
Xue pressed herself against the stone wall, feeling its cold bite through her torn dress. The chill felt good against her fevered skin.
Who the hell are you?
He almost smiled at that. Almost. My name isn't something you get to know. Not today.
From somewhere inside his armor, he pulled out a black cloth. Embroidered with a single eye that seemed to watch her even in the dim light. He held it out like an offering.
Here.
She snatched it, dabbing at the blood trickling down her cheek. Her eyes never left his face. Every muscle in her body stayed coiled, ready to bolt or fight or both.
The shouting from the other room had stopped. Now footsteps. Heavy boots on stone. The door swung open, and that demon general stepped through. Same silver mask. The same presence that made the air feel thick and dangerous.
The young man bowed his head. Just slightly. The general nodded back.
You need rest. The general's voice carried no warmth, nor did it convey any threat. We'll talk when the sun comes up.
Xue said nothing. What was there to say? The young man gestured toward the hallway, and she followed because what choice did she have? He led her to a room that smelled of jasmine and fresh linens. Luxury she hadn't expected. The door closed with a soft click.
She collapsed onto the bed, still clutching that handkerchief. The embroidered eye stared up at her from the black fabric.
God, this place is enormous. And so damn quiet.
She twisted the cloth between her fingers, over and over. When exhaustion finally dragged her under, her dreams were full of silver masks and eyes that watched but never seemed to blink.
Dawn crept across the palace grounds like spilled milk. Servants moved through the courtyards like ghosts, hanging paper lanterns and polishing every surface until it caught the light like captured fire. Clay pots in the corners sent up thin streams of scented smoke. Lavender, clove, something citrusy that made her think of home.
Somewhere in the distance, a musician was tuning a stringed instrument. The notes drifted and broke apart in the chilly morning air.
Xue sat in front of a mirror that was taller than she was. Her reflection looked strange. Hair twisted up and pinned with gold ornaments. Face powdered until her skin looked like porcelain. The red veil lay folded beside her, deep as arterial blood.
She stared at herself but didn't really see herself. All she could think about was those two men. The general with his silver mask and the young man in midnight armor. No names. No faces she could trust. Just whispers floating through the palace corridors about claws hidden under silk gloves and three wives who never made it past their wedding night.
They say there are bones under the west tower. Picked clean.
She breathed out slowly, watching her chest rise and fall in the mirror. Her hands were steady. No shaking. Good.
I won't break. Not for them. Not for anyone.
Behind doors locked with three separate bolts, the demon general pulled off his gauntlets finger by finger. Josh, his right hand, stood by the fireplace with his arms crossed. No armor today, just a dark tunic and the sword that never left his side.
They tried again last night. The general's jaw was tight enough to crack teeth.
Josh nodded. Found tracks behind the eastern fence. Three sets of boots. Clean retreat. No blood trail.
Professional work. The general set his gauntlets on the table with deliberate care. They knew exactly where to look. Exactly when to strike. The firelight threw strange shadows across his mask. You know what I keep thinking about? Those three wives I buried. Slaughtered like animals before they even saw these walls.
His voice cracked on the last word.
If I hadn't trusted my gut, hadn't put those guards on the ridge… Princess Xue would be dead right now.
Josh moved closer to the fire. They want her corpse before she becomes your wife. They will sign the peace treaty in blood first.
The general stared into the flames like they might have answers. If she'd died out there, her kingdom would've sent armies, not marriage contracts. This wedding is the only thing standing between our people and a war that'll kill thousands.
A long pause. Josh shifted his weight.
What do you think of her? Really?
The general stood and moved to the window. White flags snapped in the wind beyond the walls.
I don't know her. How could I? But she's got backbone. She's not Princess Mira.
How could you tell?
The general turned, and for the first time, Josh could see his face without the mask. Tired eyes. A scar running along his jawline.
She looked me in the eye. Straight on.
And?
He walked to the fireplace, picked up a dagger from the mantel, and turned the blade in the light. Mira never could do that. She bowed, smiled, and said all the right words. Xue met my stare like it was a weapon she wasn't afraid to handle.
The dagger went back to its place. She didn't cry. Didn't beg for mercy. Didn't scream. First thing out of her mouth wasn't 'please don't hurt me.' She asked who I was. Like she had a right to know.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Mira was gentle. Breakable. Xue's got iron in her spine. Whoever sent those assassins, they weren't counting on a girl who refuses to shatter.
Someone carved the temple from black stone and what looked like ancient bone. Blood-red silk draped the walls. Incense burned in bronze bowls, sending up smoke that made the air thick and sacred and dangerous. Drums pounded somewhere deep in the building. Slow. Heavy. Like a funeral march dressed up as a wedding song.
Xue stood still while the maids dressed her. They touched her like she might break if they pressed too hard. Crimson robes that felt heavier than armor. Silver threads were woven through her hair until it caught the candlelight. Someone painted her lips the color of fresh wounds.
You're so brave, one of them whispered.
Xue almost laughed. Instead, she just nodded. Let them believe what they needed to believe.
The veil came last. She walked alone down the corridor, her footsteps silent on the polished stone. At the end of the hall, massive doors swung open. Taller than three men. Carved with scenes of conquest, victory, and empire.
Beyond those doors, nobles filled wooden pews. She could feel their curiosity, their relief, their suspicion. No one spoke.
The demon general waited at the altar. Black cloak with silver threading. Full mask covering every inch of his face. His presence seemed to swallow all the sound in the room.
Xue walked forward. Every head turned, but she kept her eyes ahead. Each step is measured. Each breath is controlled. Fear was locked away where no one could see it.
They met at the altar. She could feel him studying her through that mask. He gave the slightest nod. She nodded back.
The high priest raised his staff. Today, two kingdoms become one. This union also wrote peace in blood and bound it with gold.
Xue barely heard the words. She was watching the general's hand reach for hers. Strong fingers. Callused palms. The hands of someone who'd killed before. She let him take her hand.
His voice was deep as river stones grinding together: I take you as my wife. From this moment until death claims us both.
She smiled behind her veil. Sweet. Perfect. And I take you as my husband. From this moment until death claims us both.
Applause erupted through the temple like thunder.
But Xue didn't feel married. She felt armed. Hidden behind silk and ceremony, she wasn't wearing love or hope for peace. She was wearing vigilance and a blade no one knew existed.