He pulled at the knots of his riding leggings, frustrated at his inability to get the cursed garments off. His desire was evident beneath his fumbling hand, and just as he freed himself, she froze. Her fingers were stiff in his hair, holding him immobile.
He tried to quiet his ragged breathing. She wasn’t moving. Was someone coming? If so, then they couldn’t be caught in this position. They weren’t hidden. He strained against her hands, trying to look around, but she let out a tiny hiss of air and held him tight.
He shrugged her leg off his shoulder and pulled her hands away from his head. He glanced around and saw no one in the alley. The buzz of voices from the main courtyard was the same constant din in the background, and he strained to hear the noise that had startled her. A voice, footsteps, the tiny scrape of metal against metal—anything to indicate they were in danger of imminent discovery.
Lian adjusted her pants and smoothed down her tunic. Her breathing eased as she ran her hands through her hair, combing the errant wisps back into a single black cascade. Her face and neck were still flushed, and Gansukh thought about putting his hands on her again. Finishing what they had started...
She read his desire plainly in his eyes and stepped forward, her face close to his. Her hands dropped to his waist, and he gasped slightly as she took his softening hardness in her hands. Her lips brushed his as she tucked him back into his pants. “The third night,” she whispered. “There isn’t time now. Let us find each other on the third night after we leave Karakorum. We can take as long as we want.”
Gansukh groaned softly, but relented. She was right. Whatever they had started to do in the alley would have been over too quickly. As hard as it was to wait, it would be better. He nodded, and she kissed him fiercely once more and then slipped out of his embrace.
“I’ll go first,” she said as she glanced around for the satchel she had been carrying when they had met outside the alley and she had dragged him into the midmorning shadows. She spotted the bag, and as she grabbed it by its shoulder strap, a blue silk pouch fell out, hitting the ground with a clink. Gansukh picked it up, and he felt its weight and how its contents shifted.
He had divided up the spoils of a conquest enough times to instinctively know what was in the purse.
She was avoiding his gaze, and he hesitated to offer the purse back. He wasn’t going to give it up so readily. Not until she looked at him.
She raised her eyes and met his gaze, and he was startled by the mixture of fear and defiance he saw. Her face softened, and he saw something else—a quiet desperation that made his chest tighten.
She needed him.
“We have to go,” she said, tugging the purse of coins and jewelry out of his slack hand. She stowed it carefully in her bag and then paused, pushing her hair back behind her ears. She wanted to say something else, and he waited for her to speak, but she changed her mind and flashed him a hopeful smile instead.
Clutching her bag tightly, she strode away, heading toward the crowded courtyard.
He watched her go, lost in thought.
*
“Have you seen Gansukh?”
The question frightened Lian. Not because she hadn’t seen Master Chucai approach, but for a moment, she panicked, terrified that he knew everything. He had seen them in the alley; he knew what was in the bag she held so protectively. “N...no, no,” she stammered. She had been walking alongside the mounted ranks of the Imperial Guard, her head down and eyes averted from the ranks of bored warriors. Trying to be as invisible as possible. “Not since yesterday,” she added, trying to shove aside all the memories of the encounter in the alley that were still scampering around in her head. “If I see him,” she said, getting herself under more control, “I will tell him you are looking for him.” She bowed slightly and made to continue walking.
“Wait.” Chucai had her pinned with his unwavering stare, as if he could—by force of his will—read all her secrets. He came to within half a pace and shifted his piercing gaze to the bag in her hands. “I thought we had loaded all of your—”
“Lian!” Gansukh strode up behind Chucai, an angry expression furrowing his brow. “There you are.”
Flustered, and not entirely sure why but thankful for the confusion nonetheless, Lian bowed toward the young warrior. “Gansukh,” she said, indicating Chucai. “Master Chucai was looking for you.”
Gansukh glanced at the Khagan’s tall advisor for a second before returning his attention to her. “And I’ve been looking for you,” he said. He pointed at the bag she was carrying. “More lessons on how to act?” he asked. “Aren’t we done with all that?”
Lian risked a glance at Chucai and shook her head. “Are you ever done learning how to hunt?” she snapped, suddenly finding herself on much more secure footing. “I told you we would continue going over the lessons until you had mastered them as well as you have the bow.” She stamped her foot. “Did you think you could escape me on the steppe?”
“I was really looking forward to staring up at the stars,” Gansukh groused, “instead of having my face buried in lessons on courtly manners.” He shot Chucai a pleading look, but the tall man only shrugged and stroked his beard. With a heavy sigh, Gansukh reached for Lian’s bag, which she handed over without hesitation. “This is never going to end,” he snorted as he slung the bag over his shoulder.
“Soon,” Chucai assured him. “It will end soon enough.” His gaze relented, though Lian was not convinced Chucai’s disinterest was entirely genuine.
Gansukh grunted and glanced around at the ranks of Imperial Guard. “Are we ever going to actually leave?” he asked.