He paced outside the questioning room like a caged tiger.
Back and forth, back and forth, his boots wearing tracks in the stone floor. Guards watched nervously from a distance. No one dared approach him.
Inside, General Wei was concluding the interrogation. Liang Jian could hear the low murmur of voices, questions and answers, but not the words themselves.
Every muscle in his body was taut with restrained violence.
She was crying, he thought savagely. She was crying and terrified and they had kept her in that room for four days.
He had wanted to kill someone when he saw her tears. Still wanted to. His hands itched for his sword.
Why does it matter so much?
The question whispered through his mind, insidious and unwelcome.
She's just a physician. A foreigner. A woman you barely know. Why does seeing her cry make you want to burn the palace down?
He didn't have an answer. He didn't want to examine it too closely. There was nothing there. Nothing.
He was just taking care of the people in his palace. That was all. Nothing more.
The door opened.
General Wei emerged. "Your Highness."
"Well?" Liang Jian demanded.
"In my assessment, Lady Su Yan is not involved in the poisoning. Her distress was genuine, her answers consistent. She has no motive and no opportunity." The old warrior's voice softened. "She's innocent, Your Highness. Just a foreign girl caught in palace politics she doesn't understand."
Relief flooded through him, so intense it nearly made him dizzy.
"Bring her back to the Cold Moon Palace," he said. "Immediately. And have the servants prepare proper quarters for her. With windows this time."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And..." Liang Jian paused. "Tell her she will dine with me tonight. In my private chambers. It's not a request."
General Wei's eyebrows rose slightly, but he bowed. "As you command, Your Highness."
~
They brought her back in a palanquin, a small mercy since her legs were shaking too badly to walk far.
Servants fussed over her immediately, drawing a bath, laying out clean robes of soft blue silk embroidered with white cranes, arranging her hair with jade ornaments. Treating her, once again, like someone who mattered.
The whiplash was dizzying.
One of the older servants, the kind-faced woman named Auntie Mei, held her hands gently. "Are you alright, Lady Su? Did they hurt you?"
"No," Soyeon whispered. "They just.….scared me."
"Palace politics are cruel," Auntie Mei said softly. "But His Highness the Second Prince fought for you. Did you know? He stormed into the Emperor's study and argued for your release. The entire palace is talking about it."
Soyeon's heart squeezed. "He.….he did?"
"Oh yes. Very loudly, from what I heard." Auntie Mei smiled. "His Highness doesn't do that for just anyone, you know. You must be very important to him."
Oh.
Important.
After the bath, they dressed her in the blue silk robes, and Auntie Mei delivered the message: "His Highness requests your presence for dinner tonight. In his private chambers."
Soyeon's stomach flipped. "His.….private chambers?"
"Yes, Lady Su. It's quite an honor."
An honor or a trap? Soyeon couldn't tell anymore. Nothing in this world made sense.
But she nodded. "Tell His Highness I will attend."
~
His private chambers were surprisingly simple.
Soyeon had expected opulence, gold and jewels and elaborate furnishings. Instead, the room was spare and elegant, dark wood furniture, silk screens painted with mountains and rivers, shelves lined with books and military treatises. A low table was set with dishes of food, still steaming, the smell making her stomach clench with hunger.
Prince Liang Jian stood by the window, his back to her, silhouetted against the evening light.
He had changed into clean robes of deep black embroidered with silver thread, his hair properly tied back. But she could see the fresh bandages on his arms, the stiffness in his shoulders.
"Your Highness," she said softly.
He turned.
His eyes traveled over her face, taking in the evidence of her ordeal, the hollows under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, the lingering fear in her expression.
His jaw tightened.
"Sit," he said quietly. "Eat."
She knelt at the table, and he sat across from her. The servants had left them alone, she realized. No attendants. No guards. Just the two of them.
It felt dangerous and intimate all at once.
Soyeon tried to eat, but her hands were shaking. The rice kept falling from her chopsticks.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched, awkward and heavy.
Finally, Soyeon couldn't bear it anymore. "Your Highness.….you're wounded."
"Hmm." He didn't look up from his bowl. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." Her medical instincts overrode her fear. "Those bandages on your arms are seeping. And you're favoring your left side. Let me examine you."
"I am well."
"You are not well." Her voice was firmer now. "I'm your physician, Your Highness. It's my duty to ensure your health. Please."
He looked up then, his dark eyes meeting hers.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, slowly, he set down his chopsticks. "Very well."
He stood and moved to sit on a cushioned bench. Soyeon followed, her medical bag retrieved from where the servants had placed it.
She knelt beside him and carefully began unwrapping the bandages on his right arm.
The wounds were fresh, sword cuts, shallow but numerous. Someone had cleaned them, but not particularly well.
"These should have been stitched," she murmured, reaching for her supplies.
"There wasn't time."
"There's always time to prevent infection."
She worked in silence, cleaning the wounds with distilled spirits, applying herbal paste, wrapping fresh bandages with careful precision. He watched her the entire time, his gaze intense and unwavering.
"The other arm," she said softly.
He offered it without protest.
More cuts. More evidence of violence. Soyeon's chest tightened. He fought for these wounds. Fought to secure the borders. Fought his way back here to.....
To what? To check on you? Don't be silly.
She pushed the thought away and focused on her work.
"Your side," she said. "You're favoring it. May I...?"
He hesitated, then pulled aside his robe, exposing his left side.
Soyeon exhaled.
A deep wound cut across his ribs, partially healed but inflamed. Someone had stitched it, but the work was rough, uneven, and the skin around it was hot to the touch.
"This is infected," she said, concern sharpening her voice. "Your Highness, this is serious—"
"I have had worse."
"That's not the point!" She looked up at him, exasperated and worried. "Infection can kill just as easily as a sword! Why didn't you have this properly treated?"
"Because I was in a hurry to get back."
The words hung between them.
To get back. To get back here. To...
Their eyes met.
She was suddenly, acutely aware of how close they were. Her hands on his bare skin, warm beneath her fingers. His face mere inches from hers. The way his breathing had changed, deeper, slower.
The way he was looking at her.
"What? Is there something on my face?" he said softly, his voice rougher than usual.
Soyeon realized she had been staring. Heat flooded her face. "I—nothing! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was just—examining the wound and I thought—"
She tried to pull back, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist.
His grip wasn't hard, nor painful. Instead, his fingers were calloused, warm, surprisingly gentle, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then he released her and stood abruptly. "That's enough. You're dismissed."
"But Your Highness, I haven't finished—"
"I said you're dismissed." His voice was cold again, the mask back in place. "Go."
Soyeon scrambled to her feet, her heart racing. "Yes, Your Highness. I—I apologize if I—"
"Just go."
He didn't need to tell her thrice.
She fled.