The second to st saga of the novel told of Hiroki’s st war campaign.

  She had been in postpartum care for barely a moon and a half when the court summoned her. Or rather, when the Queen refused to grant her reprieve. An uprising simmered along the Sua-Luhan border, threatening to boil over into full rebellion, and Hiroki was already ordered to lead the crushing.

  The night before her departure, Hiroki y on her stomach in Misbah's bed, her face turned toward the pillow, making soft sounds of contentment as his hands worked the tension from her exposed back.

  “A little lower,” she murmured drowsily.

  Misbah rolled his eyes but obediently moved his hands further down her spine, pressing into the taut muscle along her waist.

  He hadn’t noticed before, despite all the nights they’d spent together, but Hiroki’s back was more formidable than he had thought. Strong, broad shoulders swept down into a tapered waist, the muscles beneath her skin sculpted and defined from years of sword work and riding. Scars crisscrossed her shoulder bdes—old wounds from battles fought long before he knew her, when she was still a young, overzealous girl. His cheeks warmed when he caught sight of healing scratch marks carved into her skin by none other than his own nails.

  Hiroki hissed when he pressed harder without meaning to. She twisted and gnced up at him with a resentful expression. “Might I suggest being just slightly gentler to your exhausted wife?”

  Misbah blinked, snapping out of his daze. Then he clicked his tongue in annoyance, schooling the warmth on his face. “Do it yourself, then.”

  Hiroki’s brow arched at this attitude. Then, without warning, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him down, flipping their positions. Misbah plopped with a surprised yelp. He gnced up as she hovered above him, pinning both of his wrists down.

  “It seems that my concubine has grown presumptuous tely,” she purred. “Is a correction of behavior due?”

  His face flushed red. He tried to wriggle from her hold, but to no avail. “E-enough! You have to ride at dawn. There’s no time for this!”

  “Hmm…” She dipped her head, brushing her lips against the sensitive skin of his throat. “I can make it.”

  His breath hitched as her mouth explored him, hot and slow, sending tingles cascading down his spine. "The doctor—mmh—the doctor said you should focus on recovering—" His voice broke when she nibbled his earlobe.

  “If I recall,” she murmured against his skin, “you were taking me just fine st night.”

  “Your Ladyship!”

  With a resigned sigh, Hiroki relented. She released his wrists and began to withdraw. “Very well, my love.”

  He exhaled in relief.

  Just as Misbah thought he was safe for the night, she suddenly grabbed him again, this time lifting and repositioning him until he straddled her hips. She y back against the pillows, a smirk pying on her lips, and looked up at him with heavy-lidded satisfaction.

  “Since my little flower is so worried about my constitution,” she purred, “how about you do the work this time?”

  He blinked down at her, suddenly aware of his position—kneeling astride her, her hands already tucking under his robe and finding his slim waist, her thumbs stroking slow circles against his hip bones. His face burned.

  “I—stop pying around, y-you impudent woman!”

  “I do not py around.” Her voice lowered. Her hands tightened on his waist, guiding him forward until he hovered directly above her. "Come. I want you to show me that you want this. That you want me."

  The words made his heart stutter. He swallowed, pressing his lips together. Then, slowly, enduring the weight of his own embarrassment, he reached for the sash of his sleeping robe and pulled. The silk fell away from his shoulders, pooling around his hips. She did the same, shedding her own robe with a single practiced movement.

  Fully bare, he drank in the view of her. He had thought her back was already impressive, but her front was even more so. Broad shoulders gave way to sculpted arms, thick with muscle earned through years of combat. Her breasts were full and shapely, the nipples dark and peaked in the cool air. Below them, ridges of muscle defined her abdomen, and lower…

  His face burned hotter as he was acutely reminded of their current position.

  “M-must I…?” he muttered. He hated how small his voice sounded.

  In response, she opened her legs for him, eagerly inviting him. She stretched her arms out toward him, her dark hair spilling across the pillow like ink on silk.

  “Come to me, Misbah.”

  The sound of his own name from her husky, sleep-rough voice sent shivers down his spine. With nervous fingers, he reached down and stroked himself to fullness, his breath quickening at his own touch. Then, hesitantly, he guided himself to her entrance. A moan escaped his lips before he could stop it—she was already so slick, so ready, and he hadn't even breached her yet.

  Slowly, he pushed inside. A pleased gasp escaped her, and her hips rose slightly to meet him. When he fully sheathed, they both stilled, breathing hard. Heavy pants escaped him, overwhelmed by the feeling. Her insides were so warm, coiling around him so perfectly. He already felt like he was at the edge. Was it always like this?

  She reached up and tilted his chin down until their eyes met. “Move for me.”

  He leaned closer, bracing his hands on either side of her, and began to move. Slow, hesitant thrusts, each drawing a soft sigh from her lips that encouraged him onward.

  Soon, he began to move faster, making both of them gasp. The sensation made his head spin. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, taking him deeper, and he buried his face against her shoulder with a broken whimper.

  Something about being above her made him more sensitive than usual. He couldn’t think straight, hips moving instinctively as pleasure already coiled hot and urgent in his belly.

  “H-Hiroki—” His voice broke, tears beading on his long shes, “I… I can’t… I-I feel… I’m…”

  Hiroki’s heart shuttered at the sight of his vulnerable, flushed face. Even when he was above her, he still looked… absolutely, deliciously ruined. She spyed her hands across the small of his back and pulled him deeper into her warmth.

  “Just like that,” she breathed. “Give me all of you. My good Misbah.”

  He let out a shaky exhale and quickened his pace, driving into her with increasing desperation. Each thrust drew sounds from her that he had never heard before—low moans, breathless gasps, his name falling from her lips almost like a plea. He kept the same pace, an innate part of him hoping to hear more of it. She responded so enthusiastically, bringing him closer to her with her legs. His hands fisted in the silk sheets beside her head as the edge approached.

  Then, with a breathless cry, he pushed deep and spilled everything he had inside her. The intensity of it, higher than usual, stole his strength completely. His body gave up, and he colpsed on top of her, burying his face in the curve of her neck as his breaths came out in ragged pants. With him twitching inside her, she smoothed her hands over his back in slow, soothing strokes as he convulsed and came down from the height of his ecstasy.

  They y like that for a long moment, tangled together in the afterglow. The room was filled with the scent of their love.

  Later, after she had cleaned them both with a damp cloth and blown out most of the candles, they settled into their usual sleeping position. Hiroki hugged him from behind, her nose pressed against his hair, her breath warm against his scalp. Despite everything, the warmth of her along Misbah’s back felt like safety.

  “You will return, won’t you?” The words escaped him before he could stop them, soft and barely audible in the darkness.

  Half-asleep, Hiroki chuckled drowsily. “Worried for me, little flower?”

  Misbah stilled, then huffed. “I simply need to know if you’re trying to escape being killed by me.”

  Her hand drifted from his waist to his chest, fingers absently finding and pying with one small nipple. He squirmed in surprise, biting back a moan when he felt it harden again under her touch, then caught her hand and stilled it with an exasperated sound.

  “Of course I’ll return,” she muttered against his hair. “No one else can kill me but you.”

  He thinned his lips, something complicated twisting in his chest. He didn’t know why.

  But just as he was about to respond, her soft snores already emerged.

  “…Fool,” he mumbled to himself.

  He closed his eyes and let the warmth of her pull him down into the abyss.

  .

  .

  .

  And thus, Hiroki rode to war.

  The days blurred together after her departure. At first, Misbah marked each sunrise and each sunset with a gnce toward the gate. Then weeks passed, and the gnces grew longer. Then… months.

  Eventually, half a year passed. One hundred and eighty-three days.

  Everyday, fresh bodies draped in white were carried back through the capital's gates, their families wailing behind them. Everyday, Misbah stood before the Shimizu household's grand entrance, watching the procession pass, searching for one familiar silhouette.

  Then, finally, word spread like wildfire through the capital: General Shimizu had won.

  The Sua-Luhan uprising was crushed. Dyssian morale soared. Soldiers returned to families, bearing prizes granted by the Queen herself. The queendom erupted in celebration, praising Hiroki’s name.

  And yet, the woman of the Shimizu household never came back.

  Instead, what arrived was the st thing Misbah ever wished to hear.

  News of General Shimizu’s death.

  When the Capitol messenger told that to Misbah, who was waiting by the gate as usual, it didn’t register at first. Misbah simply blinked, then scoffed, telling her to stop fooling around. When she insisted, he bristled, demanding to see her body right now. She cimed that her body was not found, taken by the river.

  Misbah pushed past her and stormed toward the gate, decring he would find her himself. That shameless woman adored pying tricks on him. She must be hiding somewhere, ughing at him.

  Only until the messenger handed him the jade pendant that the general always wore at her hip did he quiet down. He took the pendant with both hands and stared bnkly at it. The jade was a brilliant shade of green, slightly chipped at the edge from a heated argument with a court official. The Shimizu name was carved boldly and proudly into the stone. Below, a string of beads with a vibrant red tassel at its tail dangled.

  A second passed. Then two. The moment stretched to an eternity.

  Then, his entire body went cold. His breath caught in his throat, then struggled to escape. His face contorted with denial; then panic; and finally, despair. A choked sound escaped his lips. Then another, louder. And then his body simply gave way, and he colpsed to his knees against the stone floor.

  The jade pendant y in his trembling palms. He stared intensely at it through hot tears, as if it could bring him answers.

  That damn liar.

  She was supposed to come back.

  She had promised. She had been so confident, so arrogantly certain that nothing could kill her. She was supposed to be his to kill. His revenge. His purpose. His—

  Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. His head felt suddenly light, disconnected from his body. The jade pendant blurred, then doubled, then dissolved entirely.

  He did not feel himself hit the ground.

  pangmida