His forehead creased. “Munokhoi,” he whispered. He stepped closer to her. “Don’t go anywhere alone, if you can help it,” he said. “Stay with Second Wife.”
She shook her head, not wanting to hear his words. Not wanting to acknowledge what he was telling her. She was embarrassed by the fear and despair that were burning in her stomach. Like a hot coal that slowly blackened all that touched it. Slowly she realized her fear had little to do with Munokhoi and more to do with the fact that Gansukh was leaving.
She knew that the men going with the Khagan were not going to be in any danger—their presence was mostly ceremonial, once the bear had been located—but it was the realization of loss that was eating at her. What the Khagan wants...
Once the hunt was over, Gansukh would go away. Afterward, Gansukh’s presence at court would either be irrelevant or an irritant; either way, the Khagan would send him back to Chagatai.
“Don’t go to my ger,” he said. “There’s nothing left.”
Her body quivered. Nothing left. It was all coming to an end.
He read her fear in her face, and some of it leaped to his eyes as well. He stroked her cheek lightly, and she turned her head away, unable to bear his touch. “Lian,” he started, and then he fumbled with his jacket. He took her hands, pressing a rectangular shape between them. “I’ll be back,” he said, squeezing her hands tight around the thin box.
Someone shouted from behind Gansukh, and he turned his head. One of the Torguud stood on the platform of the Khagan’s ger, and he beat the base of his spear against the wooden platform to further command the assembly’s attention.
Lian transferred the object to her left hand and grabbed Gansukh’s jacket with her right. “Wha—?” he started, but she cut him off by pressing her lips to his mouth. She broke the contact before he could properly respond to the kiss, and somewhat reluctantly, she released her hold on him.
“Good hunting,” she whispered.
“Lian—”
She shook her head, cutting him off.
Many voices shouted behind him as the splendidly attired form of ?gedei Khan emerged from the ger. Dressed in a plum-colored fur-lined jacket and matching trousers, the Khagan carried a cup of tea in one hand and a curved bow in the other. He stood there, surveying the crowd, seemingly indifferent as the audience erupted into wild pandemonium.
Gansukh hesitated, confusion still written across his face, but as the Khagan began his speech, he tore himself away from Lian. She closed her eyes as he turned away, and her tiny sob was lost in the tumult of the burgeoning crowd.
“Many years ago,” ?gedei began once the cheering subsided, and his voice was soft enough that the crowd became instantly silent so as to hear his words, “my father came to Burqan-qaldun. He slew the Great Bear, and its spirit helped him bring the clans together.”
Lian opened her eyes, drawn in by the Khagan’s voice. He stood, regal and proud, on his raised platform, and with quiet dignity, he took a long sip from his teacup. “This,” he said as he raised the cup, “is Chinese tea. I would not be drinking it were it not for my father.” He hurled the cup down, and it shattered on the cold and hard wood of the platform. He thrust his other arm in the air, holding the curved bow high. “This is a Mongol bow,” he shouted. “This is how my father hunted. This is how my father made his empire. This is how I will claim what is mine.”
?gedei looked down on the audience and his gaze settled on Jachin. And how could it not, with as many skirts and scarves as she wore? He gave her a beatific smile, and Lian’s heart jumped. For a brief instant, the Khagan ignored everyone else and focused on Second Wife, and Lian knew the effect the Khagan’s attention would have on Jachin—it would sustain her the entire time the Khagan was gone on his hunt. Longer, even. Somewhat selfishly, Lian knew that Jachin would be so much easier to deal with during that time. She would be lost in her own imaginary world, rapt with bliss.
“Such a dumb cow. So easily beguiled.” Munokhoi’s voice was quiet and controlled, and all the more frightening for it.
Lian’s heart hammered in her chest, and she found herself unable to breathe. She had not heard the ex–Torguud captain’s approach, and she was too frightened to do anything but press her left hand against her waist, hiding the tiny box with her hand and body as best she could.
“She will not protect you,” Munokhoi continued, coming closer to her. She could feel his presence now, a burning heat directly behind her. His breath stirred her hair.