The Mongoliad Book Three

Even if she found someone else to protect her, wouldn’t she still be nothing more than a slave? Her life would never be her own.

 

Lian paused between two ger and fumbled in the pocket of her jacket, where she had slipped the tiny box that Gansukh had given her. It was an unadorned lacquer box, the sort that appeared seamless. She had had one like it when she was a child, and she knew the trick to getting them open. The lid was stiff and moved slowly, but she managed to open the tiny container.

 

Inside was a small twig crowned by three green leaves. It looked healthy and vibrant and not at all like a dried sprig cut from a tree. She touched the leaves gently, and found them soft and pliant. She raised the box to her face and sniffed. The scent was crisp and fresh, not quite mint and not quite lavender. Looking at the twig lessened her panic and confusion, and easing the lid back onto the box was more difficult than she expected.

 

This is what Chucai wanted, she thought. This is what the Chinese came for.

 

“Lian!”

 

Her hand closed reflexively around the box, and as she turned, she tucked it away in her jacket again. “Jachin,” Lian said as she spotted the approaching woman, trailed by a trio of her handmaidens.

 

“We have nothing to do until the Khagan returns,” Jachin said as she swept up to Lian. “I, for one, am going to take a bath.” She rolled her eyes at her handmaidens. “If these simpletons can ever manage to shore up my ger well enough that the water doesn’t keep running out of the tub.”

 

“Perhaps it might be best to not fill the bath completely,” Lian suggested, attempting to quickly fix Second Wife’s problem.

 

“I might as well not even bother in that case.” Jachin shook her head. “Next you’ll be suggesting that I have the servants rub my skin with wet clothes in lieu of actually submerging my body.”

 

“Oh, my Lady, no.” Lian moved her hand—the one that had just shoved the box and sprig into her coat—up to her mouth as if horrified by the idea. “That would be akin to suggesting that you strip naked and jump in the river.”

 

Jachin snorted. “Just like the men?”

 

“Well, not just like them.”

 

One of the handmaidens giggled and Jachin laughed outright before frowning playfully at Lian. “I do not think the Khagan would approve,” she said. “No, I want to please him when he returns from his hunt. Even though he will be elated, he will be tired from the long day of riding. I want to be ready for him. I want him to take me to his bed on the night of his victory. I want to be—” She broke off, and surprisingly, blushed. She toyed with her hair, staring off over Lian’s shoulder.

 

“Of course.” Lian fought the urge to fidget, to try to flee from Jachin before Second Wife got it into her head to insist that Lian keep her company while she bathed.

 

“Toregene would tell me to leave the Khagan alone on his victory night. He would come to me if he wanted my company,” Jachin said, nodding to herself. “But that is what she wants. Of course, left alone, the Khagan would choose her. Not because he likes her, but because she is First Wife.” She wrinkled her nose. “It is all so easy for her. She doesn’t have to worry about being forgotten, about being left alone, night after night.”

 

Jachin thought of the ruin of Gansukh’s tent, of sleeping alone amid that wreckage, and nodded.

 

“Toregene is lazy,” Jachin said, a smirk curling her lips. “She is. She thinks everything will come to her because of her station. That her son will become Khagan after ?gedei is gone, but she doesn’t understand him.”

 

“Not like you,” Lian said politely, sensing some sort of comment was expected of her at this point. “You are always thinking of what is best for the Khagan.”

 

“A true wife always does,” Jachin purred, eyeing Lian. “As I am sure you think about Gansukh.”

 

Lian’s breath caught in her throat. “Gansukh?” she asked.

 

Jachin smiled at Lian. “Oh, you don’t need to be so coy with me. I know you are thinking about him. It is so plain on your face.”

 

“I—” Lian tugged at the hem of her jacket, finding something to do with her hands. “My Lady, I would not presume to think that such a proud warrior as Gansukh would want me.”

 

Jachin laughed. “He’s already had you, Lian.”

 

Lian blushed. “That is not what I meant, my Lady. I am a slave. I am owned by Master Chucai, and—”

 

Jachin waved away Lian’s words as if they were nothing more than minor annoyances. “The Khagan may do anything he pleases, Lian. He could simply tell Chucai that you are no longer his.” She laughed, clapping her hands delightedly. “Oh, wouldn’t that make him so angry!”

 

“Who, my Lady?”

 

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