men, but there was only an elderly man inside flanked by two advisers.
The khagan was seated upon an intricately woven rug. His headdress was decorated
with several silver fox tails.
This was the man she was here to marry. His complexion was
swarthy from a lifetime in the sun. There were crinkles at the corners of his
eyes and creases around his mouth, but he wasn’t as fearsome or as old as she
had thought.
She knelt at the edge of the rug facing him. Kwan-Li lowered
himself between them to translate the conversation. The khagan was honored she
had come. She was honored to be there. His land was vast and plentiful. Her
empire was the greatest under the sun. How fortunate that the khagan would be
blessed with two brides.
“Two brides?” Dao ranted.
“The khagan has already given his word that the Uyghur princess
will be his first wife,” Kwan-Li explained gravely.
“Tell him he can’t catch fish with both hands!”
“I cannot tell him that.”
The khagan was looking at them with interest. Dao swallowed her
retort. All their struggle and the khagan didn’t want to marry her. She knew
what happened to secondary wives. They were used, cast aside, ignored.
Apparently it was the same for servant girls or princesses. A women’s fate was
decided by her husband.
“The khagan assures the princess that she will be treasured.
That she will be given a position of respect which is her due—”
“In his harem.” Her blood boiled. “This is an insult.”
Kwan-Li’s eyes danced with light as he pressed his mouth tight.
Was he trying not to laugh? Her future depended on this!
She wasn’t an underling anymore. She had power. For all they
knew, she was a princess. A princess from the most powerful empire in the
world.
“Tell him—” Dao grasped at the right words. How would An-Ming
react? “Tell him he’s an old lecherous goat!” she raged.
The khagan’s eyes shot wide. Kwan-Li made a choking noise.
“Tell him I won’t have this,” she told Kwan-Li. “That the
Emperor will be angry. That I am angry.”
It seemed Kwan-Li was spending his energy trying to calm her
down rather than serve as interpreter. That upset her even more.
“I was shot at,” she complained directly to the khagan. “With
arrows.”
The khagan said something to Kwan-Li in response, which she had
to wait impatiently for him to relay to her.
“The khagan says he thought Han princesses were supposed to be
elegant and graceful.”
“You are laughing,” she
accused.
Kwan-Li’s gaze was warm. He all but caressed her with his eyes,
making her heart flutter. She tried very hard to ignore it.
How could Kwan-Li be so calm? His demeanor was
impenetrable.
“You tell him the Emperor’s niece is no lowly concubine,” she
demanded. “Tell him now.”
Kwan-Li turned to the khagan and spoke with a sense of
authority. Apparently he was well-spoken in any language. Whatever he was
saying, it must have been very good because the khagan was nodding. Then a
messenger came in. Whatever he had to say sent the two advisers into a whirlwind
of chatter.
“What is it?” she asked beneath her breath. It was so difficult
not being able to understand anything.
“The Uyghur princess is now outside demanding an audience,”
Kwan-Li informed her.
“Tell him that if he marries her, I will take his fastest horse
and ride back home.”
The khagan looked like he would rather be on his fastest horse,
riding headlong into battle.
Kwan-Li presented the khagan with a stream of words that she
was certain contained much more than a translation of her threat. The khagan
made a weary gesture toward them at the end of the exchange. He appeared to have
aged a few years.
Kwan-Li stood and ushered her to the side of the yurt. “The
khagan has given me leave to explain the situation to the princess. I have
proposed a compromise.”
“What compromise?”
“Another peace marriage. Not to the khagan, but to the Yelu
chieftain’s son.”
“He wants to
The khagan was seated upon an intricately woven rug. His headdress was decorated
with several silver fox tails.
This was the man she was here to marry. His complexion was
swarthy from a lifetime in the sun. There were crinkles at the corners of his
eyes and creases around his mouth, but he wasn’t as fearsome or as old as she
had thought.
She knelt at the edge of the rug facing him. Kwan-Li lowered
himself between them to translate the conversation. The khagan was honored she
had come. She was honored to be there. His land was vast and plentiful. Her
empire was the greatest under the sun. How fortunate that the khagan would be
blessed with two brides.
“Two brides?” Dao ranted.
“The khagan has already given his word that the Uyghur princess
will be his first wife,” Kwan-Li explained gravely.
“Tell him he can’t catch fish with both hands!”
“I cannot tell him that.”
The khagan was looking at them with interest. Dao swallowed her
retort. All their struggle and the khagan didn’t want to marry her. She knew
what happened to secondary wives. They were used, cast aside, ignored.
Apparently it was the same for servant girls or princesses. A women’s fate was
decided by her husband.
“The khagan assures the princess that she will be treasured.
That she will be given a position of respect which is her due—”
“In his harem.” Her blood boiled. “This is an insult.”
Kwan-Li’s eyes danced with light as he pressed his mouth tight.
Was he trying not to laugh? Her future depended on this!
She wasn’t an underling anymore. She had power. For all they
knew, she was a princess. A princess from the most powerful empire in the
world.
“Tell him—” Dao grasped at the right words. How would An-Ming
react? “Tell him he’s an old lecherous goat!” she raged.
The khagan’s eyes shot wide. Kwan-Li made a choking noise.
“Tell him I won’t have this,” she told Kwan-Li. “That the
Emperor will be angry. That I am angry.”
It seemed Kwan-Li was spending his energy trying to calm her
down rather than serve as interpreter. That upset her even more.
“I was shot at,” she complained directly to the khagan. “With
arrows.”
The khagan said something to Kwan-Li in response, which she had
to wait impatiently for him to relay to her.
“The khagan says he thought Han princesses were supposed to be
elegant and graceful.”
“You are laughing,” she
accused.
Kwan-Li’s gaze was warm. He all but caressed her with his eyes,
making her heart flutter. She tried very hard to ignore it.
How could Kwan-Li be so calm? His demeanor was
impenetrable.
“You tell him the Emperor’s niece is no lowly concubine,” she
demanded. “Tell him now.”
Kwan-Li turned to the khagan and spoke with a sense of
authority. Apparently he was well-spoken in any language. Whatever he was
saying, it must have been very good because the khagan was nodding. Then a
messenger came in. Whatever he had to say sent the two advisers into a whirlwind
of chatter.
“What is it?” she asked beneath her breath. It was so difficult
not being able to understand anything.
“The Uyghur princess is now outside demanding an audience,”
Kwan-Li informed her.
“Tell him that if he marries her, I will take his fastest horse
and ride back home.”
The khagan looked like he would rather be on his fastest horse,
riding headlong into battle.
Kwan-Li presented the khagan with a stream of words that she
was certain contained much more than a translation of her threat. The khagan
made a weary gesture toward them at the end of the exchange. He appeared to have
aged a few years.
Kwan-Li stood and ushered her to the side of the yurt. “The
khagan has given me leave to explain the situation to the princess. I have
proposed a compromise.”
“What compromise?”
“Another peace marriage. Not to the khagan, but to the Yelu
chieftain’s son.”
“He wants to
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