Seated at a tea-stained table, the princess crossed her arms and muttered, ‘I did not expect that you would go to a restaurant.’

  ‘Where else would I go? The brothels? It isn’t like I can take you there, Master.’ Three closed the menu with a sharp snap, one hand quickly marking down numbers on a sheet and handing it to a waiter. ‘Unless you wanted to go? No problem, let’s go right now —’

  ‘I,’ the princess hissed, ‘don’t have such foul habits.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ she shrugged.

  Then, a silence. It felt terribly wrong to stare at the other — her eyes, she knew, would trace the princess’s face, that nose’s cold shadow, searching for that anger and fear from the alleyway, like a dog skittishly watching its surroundings for a whip, fearful of a beating. The knowledge, the nervous questioning, poked at her thoughts like an itch left on her skin.

  Thus, she turned to face the window.

  A beautifully purple-pink hue, the sun’s dimming light painted the clouds above in a gorgeous blend of colour. It had a fieriness to it. Those heated rays floated down through the open window, settling a warmth on her cheeks, searing little white blobs into her eyes.

  Her eyes fluttered shut, a hot reddish orange filling her sight. The grain of the wooden table, a little damp from stains, skimmed past her fingers, coarse to the touch. Her bck combat robes pooled around her — the yers of fabric heated up, a burning on her back against the stool.

  ‘…Hey, Three.’

  She didn’t open her eyes. ‘Yes?’

  The other woman’s voice was soft, a little hesitant. Quiet and subdued. ‘Why did you think “stay silent” was a killing command?’

  What a good question.

  Why?

  ‘Habit, I suppose.’ Eyes still shut, she mused, ‘When I was younger, I fell in love with another girl. But she didn’t like others hearing my voice. So, when she told me to stay silent, it generally meant… killing everyone in earshot, or those that I spoke to.’

  She opened her eyes.

  Took a breath.

  Shook off that image of dying, reddened eyes and a twisting, vicious tongue.

  ‘I apologise, Your Highness,’ Three said. She csped her hands together, resting her chin on top. ‘It’s just that your commands are quite simir to hers.’

  Like her command, to not communicate with others.

  Don’t speak to anyone.

  Or her other command, to keep herself invisible.

  Only I can look at you.

  ‘Don’t compare me to her, it’s honestly quite insulting,’ the princess sneered. ‘She sounds absolutely horrible; you must have terrible taste in women.’

  Three only chuckled.

  She did indeed.

  But then she fell silent. The waiter came, his arms bearing all the treasures of the mortal world: fried rice, pork stomach and chicken soup, braised chicken feet, roasted pigeon, steamed chicken feet, cold chicken feet, beans stir-fried with pork mince —

  ‘…What in the heavens is this?’

  She didn’t hesitate. Digging in, she ploughed through the food as though racing, only pausing a good ten mouthfuls ter to say, ‘Good stuff.’

  The princess watched her with a sour look. ‘I can’t eat this. Besides, I’m in mourning.’

  She smiled at her and bit into the pigeon. She beamed back, ‘Then, Master, just drink the northwest winds.’

  *

  In the end, the only thing that the princess could stomach was rice and a bit of the beans. Of course, she was vomiting it all out half a shichen ter — her delicate, I-only-eat-grass stomach couldn’t handle all the oil and meat.

  Which was why Three had to buy a bowl of pickled cabbage to pcate the woman’s digestive tract.

  ‘There, there,’ she said, patting the other woman’s back, ‘you’ll be fine soon.’

  Then, a loud heaving groan.

  ‘What a waste of good food,’ she tutted. ‘Your Highness, why can you handle the hound meat but not this?’

  The woman heaved again and spat, ‘I didn’t handle the hounds. I threw it all up, didn’t I?’

  ‘Seriously?!’ Three spped the other’s back hard, exasperation settling into the lines of her eyes. ‘That was why you survived the poison? Because you threw it up? Good heavens, what a ridiculous, unlucky fluke —’

  The princess hissed, ‘Shut up!’, then bent over and vomited again.

  So, she shut herself up and helped that cheap master of hers chuck everything up.

  What a waste.

  Then, once the woman’s stomach stopped its tantrum, she handed her a handkerchief and knelt on the ground.

  ‘Get on,’ she said. The pebbles of the ground dug into her knees. ‘I’ll get you back to the pace in no time.’

  A soft hand pressed on her shoulder. ‘…You won’t drop me, right?’ Then those fingers dug into her skin. ‘If you do, I will chop off your hair.’

  Scalp tingling, she snorted, ‘Of course not.’ Then, she leaned back, ignoring the other woman’s yelp as she seized the other’s legs. The princess’s white arms wrapped around her neck — a ticklish weight, a little bit bony, dug into the top of her head. A softness pressed into her back before struggling upwards to rest on her shoulders. ‘How could I dare drop Your Immeasurably Noble Highness?’

  She didn’t get a reply.

  The night air, an autumn cool that had the aftertaste of young winter frost, burned a little in her lungs. White puffs blew out her mouth, clouding the air and the capital city that couldn’t quite doze off into sleep.

  The princess’s weight was both real and unreal on Three’s hips and shoulders. The woman was so light she felt that she might drop the other should her mind wander.

  She didn’t bother using her qi to strengthen herself; it would be nice if the other’s weight could be more solid, more sturdy in her hands.

  Bck hair — she didn’t know whether it was hers, or the princess’s — pooled across her shoulder to sway at her waist. With each step forward, it would brush her robes and bounce off her legs, swinging from her breasts.

  On her head was an itching tickle. The woman’s soft breathing blew at her colrbones, the little puffs seeping into the lines of her throat with a sparse warmth. On the back of her neck was the gentle throbbing of a throat, a strong pulse pumping blood; this pulse sleepily slowed into a low hum as the tension faded from the princess’s muscles.

  Three silently hiked the other up a little higher.

  The city’s nterns now repced what was once the setting sun’s light. The yellow glow of firelight and oil mps sank the softwood doors and rabbit-grey tiles into a hazy, drunken quiet. It was a quiet so soft, an absence of voice so gentle, that Three couldn’t help but let the smile soften and fall away from her lips, the tightness in her back stooping.

  She walked through more of these streets and sleeping back alleys. A few twists and turns ter, a warm body on her back, she came to a wide river and a bridge. Beyond it, a tall staircase that wound up a mountain.

  The Imperial City’s first line of defence.

  ‘Your Highness,’ she whispered, ‘it’s time to climb up the mountain… Your Highness?’

  She turned back.

  The princess had fallen asleep.

  She sighed and gently slid the other from her back. Before the sleeping princess’s hair could touch the ground, she scooped the woman into her scarred arms, with even the crickets and cicadas having fallen silent. A tranquil head leaned on her shoulder. A pair of soft legs draped over her arms.

  That warmth seared into Three’s chest.

  The princess didn’t stir from her slumber. Not even once.