Dawn's pink fingers orchestrated the forest to life, chasing away the terrors the dark. Our two travelers strolled back to town amidst a dance of golden leaves under the misty morning sun, now visibly relaxed. Kai even hummed a small diddy--something he'd heard in the brothels.  Having never been to a brothel, Moyu found the tune lovely, and wished the stroll could last forever.

The town was alive by the time they arrived and, to Moyu's great astonishment, much transformed. As they took a seat at a small roadside breakfast stall, her large eyes rolled round and round, marveling at the wonders of daylight. Gone were the gaudy merchants and their alluring treasures, now replaced by more humble farmers with their homely cabbages and onions. Yet still, Yuan An's liveliness could not be quelled. Here, old ladies squabbled over the freshest turnips; there, some chickens balked in terror at the approaching butcher's knife; and still yonder, young men grunted as they heaved heavy bags of rice.  

"I can't imagine living as a peasant," Kai quipped. He eyed their dusty chopsticks with suspicion.  "Do you imagine we'll survive long out here, Your Highness?"

Moyu didn't answer; she was too taken by the sights.  She could hardly believe that she now sat here, amidst these animated people.  What contrast to her quiet existence in that austere palace with its stifling code of silence . . .

No sooner had she thought this than she witnessed a decidedly palatial sight near the gates. There ambled into town two magnificent horses, which, even from a distance, revealed themselves to be blue-blooded Ferghana horses. 

She may be a girl, but even she knew that these were horses of kings! At the capital, only the noblest of nobles possessed the means of acquiring such astounding animals; otherwise, one had to accomplish some grand, earth-shattering feat to be gifted one by the king himself. During her lifetime, she had known of only one poet who had been bestowed such an honor.

Moyu's brothers, the two princes of Zhao, each had a Ferghana. So too did Yang Kai, back in the day. Moyu herself had never been permitted to ride such magnificent creatures, for she was deemed unworthy. She had once so yearned to ride Kai's horse that she'd swallowed her pride and sought him out at the hunting banquet. His horse had no place for her though. He had ridden past her with the beautiful Countess Hsia in his arms, never sparing her a second glance.

Well, no matter. He'd fallen off his high horse, hadn't he? And lost everything else too, for that matter.

She squinted and wondered about the two men leading the horses into Yuan An. They were certainly no commoners from hereabout, that much was obvious. Even without the horses, their thick fur coats of mink and ermine gave them away. The man walking in front was tall and bluntly handsome, with thick brows and a square, set jaw. As for the other, he was average in every way, but both appeared noble in their bearing and almost militaristic in their disciplined gait.

But not from Hu, Shuang thought. Their attires were decidedly Zhao. What business did they have in a place like YuanAn? A cold tingle rolled down her spine. Not for her, surely? News of her disappearance couldn't have traveled all the way to LuoYang just yet . . . .

"Your noodles, esteemed guests!"

The fragrant smell of cilantro beef momentarily distracted Moyu from her thoughts. How long had it been since she'd had a hot meal? One tends to forget these small luxuries when living in the palace. She dug into the noodles with relish, slurping up them up in imitation of her peasant neighbors. 

"What were you looking at?" asked Kai. He was less taken by the food and was picking at the strands of flour with obvious distaste. Probably that aristocratic blood acting up, Moyu thought.  He would have to fix that too, or he'd starve to death out here.  Moyu considered responding to his question that she didn't imagine he would survive for long. 

Instead, she replied quietly, "Nothing. The men stuck out, that's all."

Kai snickered and agreed. "No doubt they'll be robbed within an inch of their lives." 

But he peered at her sideways through his long lashes as he continued to pick at his food. What was she really thinking, this princess of his? He wished she didn't parcel out her words like so many pieces of gold. Did she remember his slight back in the day, when he'd denied her a ride on his horse like the silly ass he was. Perhaps she seethed with the lingering hatred . . . but no. Moyu did not hate. She was pure and kind and forgiving. Surely, she must have meant what she said--the men had merely stuck out. 

And besides, he wondered, his sharp eyes flashing with cold intelligence, who were these Zhao men?