"Hye!"
Nabi's scream ripped through his memory, making him bolt upright. His heartbeat so loudly it drowned out the sounds of the sleeping men and the night crickets. He took a deep breath, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. Glancing at the others, he saw Chinua wasn't among them. He hadn't dreamed of Nabi, his sister-cousin killed by northern soldiers, in a long time. Had the recent talk of fears brought her back? He exhaled and turned to the window. The moonlight was brilliant. He rose, grabbed his fire starter from the table, and walked out of the small room.
Hye entered the living room and saw the back door stood open. He assumed Chinua had simply woken in the night for the bathroom. Opening the front door, he sat on a chair nearby. He drew out his fire starter and gently blew it alight, then used it to ignite the oil lamp on the table. He watched the lamp's flame, but his gaze drifted to the window and the stark moonlight outside. A wave of foolishness struck him; the lamp's light was pitifully dim against the moon's overwhelming brightness. Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his eyes. He focused on the sound of the mating crickets, letting their chirps wash over him, a small comfort to his agitated heart. His fingers began a soft, rhythmic tap on the tabletop, a deliberate counterpoint to the frantic beat he felt within his chest.
It was already midnight when Chinua returned from the bathroom. A gentle tapping sound from the living room drew her attention to the open door. She walked to the doorway and found Hye leaning against the wall, eyes closed, his left middle finger tapping lightly on the table beside a lighted oil lamp. Stepping outside the room, she walked past him and sat nearby. Only then did she notice the bright moonlight shining down on them.
"Can't sleep?" Chinua asked, picking up the oil lamp and blowing it out.
Hye stopped tapping. "What about you?" he asked. "Why are you up? You can't sleep either?"
Chinua sighed. "I just sleep until nature calls," she said. She turned and saw Hye's troubled expression. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Did you have an unpleasant dream?"
Hye paused, then sighed. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "Chinua," he asked quietly, "what are you afraid of?"
Chinua thought about it. From the day she could remember, she'd seemed fearless, always facing things head-on, never considering who she might offend or the consequences. "Uh..." she began. "I don't know. I haven't encountered anything that scares me yet. Why do you ask so suddenly?"
Hye turned his head and closed his eyes again. "I think Drystan has a point," he murmured. "Everyone has something they fear, even you. You just haven't found it yet. I believe one day you will come face to face with it."
"What about you?" Chinua asked. "What are you afraid of?"
Hye exhaled slowly and opened his eyes, looking at the bright moon hanging in the dark sky. "I'm afraid," he said quietly, "to look into the eyes of those who know they are about to die." He sighed, turning his head to look at Chinua. "It's especially scary when I'm the one who's killing them."
Chinua reached out and took his left hand. "Some deaths have to happen," she said softly, "so more people can live."
"Chinua..." Hye said. "Will you break the promise we made?"
Chinua gently squeezed his hand twice. "As long as I live," she said, "I will never break it."
Early the next morning, the house chatter woke Chinua. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw the sun was up and Delbee was already outside feeding chickens. She turned to her right; Hye was gone. Stretching her arms, she stood. She didn't know how she'd fallen asleep, remembering only her conversation with Hye under the moon.
Delbee returned with a small wooden bowl, smiling. "Good morning, Chinua," she said. "Breakfast is ready inside. It seems your subordinates have already started."
"Thank you," Chinua replied, stepping into the house. She saw her subordinates were indeed eating, and noticed Zamir in the corner, holding Bold. "Hey!" she called out to her group. "Behave yourselves! You're guests in someone else's house!"
Naksh looked up at Chinua, a piece of mutton already in his mouth. "Look who just woke up," he mumbled around the food.
"The owner of the house hasn't complained about our behavior," Drystan retorted, tossing a piece of bread at Chinua.
Chinua caught the bread. "That's because he's very polite," she said with a smile. She walked to the table and sat next to Zhi, looking around. "Where's Hye?" she asked.
"He left early with the village chief," Khenbish replied. "They're helping the fleeing villagers. We were told to assist the villagers and soldiers with building houses."
Chinua looked at the six men at the table. "If you've eaten enough," she said, "you can go."
Khunbish asked, "Will Chinua come with us?"
"No," Chinua said. "Taban mentioned last night that the Third Brother would be back today, so I'll wait for him. I have something to give him. I'll go help tomorrow."
"In that case, let's go help Captain Taban and his soldiers," Zhi said. He looked at Chinua. "We'll be back later this evening."
Chinua nodded, watching her subordinates walk out the door.
Just as she was about to finish eating, Delbee's squeal of joy made Chinua glance out the front door. She saw Mönkhbat leap off his horse and dash inside.
Mönkhbat smiled and said, "Chinua, look who I brought!"
Chinua looked out and saw Khawn tying his horse to a post in front of the house before heading in.
Zamir walked up to Mönkhbat. "Your son," he announced simply.
Mönkhbat smiled, picking Bold up from Zamir's arms and holding the infant close. "Father, thank you," he said softly, still smiling.
Chinua quickly walked up to him. "I know you should name him," she began, "but last night I named him Bold. I think it's the best name for him." She looked at Mönkhbat. "Would you... consider it?"
Mönkhbat's smile widened. "It is a beautiful name," he said. "Bold it is."
Chinua laughed. "I promise I won't name your next one! I won't outdo you again."
Mönkhbat chuckled. "When you have your first child, Chinua, I will be the one to name them. Only that is fair."
"Chinua will not have children of her own," Chinua stated, her expression softening. "But Chinua considers all children born in Hmagol to be her children."
Mönkhbat didn't ask more questions. He understood that for a female general surrounded by men, marriage could easily bring miscommunication and distrust. Smiling, he said, "I understand. I'm going to see your sister-in-law now. I believe your subordinates have something they need to tell you; feel free to use my study."
"After you talk with your sister-in-law," Chinua replied, "I have something to give you."
"Alright," Mönkhbat agreed. He held Bold in his arms and walked into his bedroom.
"Chinua!" Khawn called out happily as he walked into the house.
Chinua smiled at him. "I'm glad you're back safe and sound," she said. "How was your trip?"
Khawn smiled back. "Fine," he replied simply.
Chinua and Khawn entered Mönkhbat's study. Chinua turned to face him. "Did you make it to Zhugow City?" she asked.
Khawn shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't. But I do have a detailed map of the outskirts."
Chinua frowned slightly. "I thought you were going all the way in. What happened?"
Khawn said, "Prince Geming uddenly abandoned everyone else," Khawn explained. "He headed to Zhugow City with only the imperial guards and the eldest princess."
Chinua's eyes narrowed. "So how did you even reach the outskirts?"
"I hitchhiked a ship," Khawn replied. "Other than the inside of the city itself, I have everything else you need."
Chinua smiled, impressed. "Well done," she said. "That's fantastic work."
A knock sounded on the study door. "When everyone else gets back," she added, "we'll discuss your findings in detail."
Khawn nodded and opened the door. It was Mönkhbat.
"Khawn, go get some rest and food," Chinua said. "I need to speak with Third Brother privately."
Khawn nodded again and closed the door behind him.
Mönkhbat approached Chinua. "What is it you need to talk about?" he asked.
Chinua reached into her inner robe and took out a golden letter, handing it to him. "Before I left the capital," she explained, "Father asked me to deliver this to you personally. He said you must abide by its contents."
Mönkhbat took the golden letter. He noted the unbroken wolf seal on the envelope before breaking it, opening the letter, and beginning to read. After finishing, he looked at Chinua. "Do you know what's in it?" he asked.
Chinua replied, "I don't know."
Mönkhbat sighed. "Good," he murmured. He picked up the fire starter, blew lightly to ignite it, and set the paper on fire.
Chinua was startled by Mönkhbat's action. Though she didn't know the letter's contents, she knew it was vital. Batukhan himself had insisted she deliver it in person. Watching the paper slowly curl and blacken, she acted swiftly. She knocked the burning letter from Mönkhbat's hand onto the ground, then stepped on it, smothering the flames.
"The Royal Father asked me to bring you this letter personally," Chinua said, her voice sharp. "He ordered me to make sure you, and only you, received it. Why did you burn it?" She bent to pick up the smoldering paper, but Mönkhbat stopped her with a hand on her arm. They stared at each other. "What was in the letter?" she demanded.
Mönkhbat held her gaze. "You don't need to know," he said. "Tell Father I received it, and I will do what he says."
Chinua pushed Mönkhbat aside and snatched the letter from the ground. It was severely burned, half the content missing, but the remaining text was still clearly visible. She could understand what was written there. Then she saw the blood mark at the bottom. Chinua gasped, shocked, and turned to look at Mönkhbat.
"Why?" Chinua's voice was raw, her lips trembling, eyes wet with tears. "Why would you burn such a thing?" She wasn't sure why she was crying; perhaps it was anger, disbelief, or shock from the letter's contents.
Mönkhbat held her gaze. "I know Father was always sorry for what he did to my brother and me," he said softly, "but I never blamed him. I understood his purpose."
"Others," Chinua retorted, her voice still trembling, "if they had this opportunity, they wouldn't hesitate to seize it and flip this house of cards."
Mönkhbat turned fully towards her. "That's why," he stated. "I won't give them the chance to create fear and turn us brothers against each other."
Tears streamed down Chinua's face as she stared at him. "You don't..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "You don't want to be king of Hmagol?"
Mönkhbat's gaze was steady. "My greatest fear," he said, "is blood brothers turning against each other. If my becoming king would cause us to hold swords at each other's throats, if it would bring chaos to Hmagol's citizens, then I don't want the throne, Chinua."
With a sob, Chinua ran into his arms, embracing him tightly.
Mönkhbat held her, gently patting the back of her head. "You're a smart person," he murmured. "You know peace and stability are what Father always wants."
Chinua's heart was filled with mixed emotions, and her lips were trembling. "I didn't expect you to be so kind to your brothers," she said, her voice soft, wet with tears. "Even though we weren't born from the same mother."
"Even if we weren't born from the same mother," Mönkhbat replied, "if someone wants to hurt my brothers and sisters, I'll do whatever I can to protect them." He gently freed her hand and wiped her tears. "Remember," he said, "only a Mongke can hit you, yell at you, or even disagree with your views. We won't allow others to do the same."
Chinua looked at him, tears still streaming. "How come?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Because..." Mönkhbat began, his voice soft. "We are family. I am your brother, and you are my sister." He looked at her, his gaze steady. "This blood relationship will last a lifetime. It can only be broken when we take our last bath, put on our white robes, and hold two silver coins in our hands."